“Oh yeah there’s a smile when the pain comes… pain’s gonna make everything alright, alright yeah…” This song, “She Talks to Angels” was released by The Black Crowes in 1989 – the year after my accident, the year I began cutting myself, unable to find any other way to ease my pain. Pain did make everything alright for me – it was a way to feel 
somewhat alive, seeing the blood escape through the cut. I wanted to die, yes, but I didn’t want to kill myself…not at this point. I simply wanted to cease existing. I listened to this song a lot in those days, because Chris was singing what my soul was feeling.
My little one: today my client shared the solution for sadness was jumping from the bed to the “fluffy” beanbag, because “when I feel sad I like to jump into fluff because
it makes me happy, happy and happy.” Glad I’m happy, happy and happy because finding a beanbag for me might prove disappointing.
Busy, busy, busy…Day Two. These two days are so orchestrated that my thoughts understand there is no time for misshape. Prog notes go well, calls are made…I really think I freak my mind into understanding it simply cannot fuck around on these days. Today, I set my brand new card-holder (!) with my anonymous note in its place on my desk and my heart beat so proudly. I’m beginning to feel officialer and officialer. I left after a 9 hour day. I enjoy days like today.
Shopping, then home, listening to the Giants. It is the wildcard game and this is the first game I will have “watched” (heard) all season. I hate that, but it has been such a whirlwind with work, so much to do, to remember. Despite having bought GameDay, I used it rarely. I made chicken soup in the pressure cooker. And listened. Ethan and I ate soup. And listened. Still 0-0, 7th inning. Listening…every muscle tense. Suddenly the Giants win – thanks to Gillespie and Madbum – three to nothing. Onto the Wrigley Field On Friday. Thi
s is gonna be a great Friday night: KNBR and a fire.
I am so proud of my kids – both of them. Did they do something special today? Abso-fuckin-lutely. They were themselves. I have more fun with them than I can describe (though life it isn’t always perfect, as I can attest to – I suddenly have a 13 year old teenager whose eyerolls have reached perfection status). My boy hugs me all the time. My daughter is singing to me. I am grateful, grateful, and grateful!. As I listen to Mags practice ukulele, I urge you to love your children. Give them your time, your undivided attention..doing so shall result in magic, this I promise.
Pictures: My cardholder with my favorite note; A drawing of a man digging for the treasure; Mags playing Bob Marley.
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