Drawing by Leslie Hung

Every day, life teaches me how to live. Just when I think I’ve got it all down, when I think I have the inner strength to tackle whatever comes my way because I’ve coached myself to be strong, to love and be gentle with myself, to remember that we are all just visitors here….someone comes to smash all my toys, and I fall apart.

In my case it wasn’t really someone, just some thing that happened to me, that absolutely tore me to pieces. I don’t necessarily want to talk about it, but I do want to talk.

It’s about fear. You know how when something bad happens to you, the very worst thing, and every day after that worst thing happens you are on high alert for that worst thing to happen again? In fact you have so much irrational fear and paranoia that that worst thing is going to happen again, that you feel like just the mere thought of that worst thing will bring it about in some horrible way? It’s like that, if any of that makes sense. And right now I’m facing an incredible amount of irrational fear and paranoia. One of my worst things happened just like I feared it would at some point, and even though it wasn’t the very worst thing, it was pretty fucking close to it while it was happening, and I’ve been crying for two days straight, even though everything is okay now.

It’s like some kind of horrific post traumatic stress. I know this is probably incredibly confusing for you, and I’m really sorry that I am being so mum on the details, but I just had to get out the fact that life never fucking ceases to surprise me. I mean, it’s a beautiful thing, and every day I feel the miracle of being alive, and every day I realize how small I am, and that I am on this celestial vessel, whirly-twirling out in space, but shit man. It’s rough out there. And it’s almost like you can’t even remember the person you were before that ‘worst thing’ happened to you, and you don’t even want to remember that person because that person never had anything figured out, despite what they previously thought.

And although I feel like I’m afflicted with so much emotional strain, paranoia, fear, and heartache, there’s this really small area within me that’s fighting. Don’t be silly. I know areas can’t fight, but something inside of me is doing it. I’ll be damned if I know what the hell it is or who the hell is working so hard to jumpstart my normalcy again, but I’m damn happy it’s there. Because I sure as hell am not doing anything to better myself, except cry, read, and sleep. But who knows, maybe that is bettering myself. Maybe I’m bettering myself without even knowing it. Maybe that’s the biggest healing trick of all.

And I’ll tell you one other thing, one other thing that’s making it all alright. People who put too much money in parking meters. God bless people who put too much money in parking meters and take the fuck off, because it allows sad, paranoid, and fearful people like me to zip right in and park for free.

I apologize for the F words. Also, I’m alright, I promise. I thought someone I love was seriously hurt, but they are fine. So naturally I’m traumatized by it. And naturally, I’m writing about it. And maybe not so naturally, I’m crying all the time, but crying is coping I think.

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Monique Muro

Monique is an exceedingly happy human from LA. She runs the blog A Novel Quest, and writes. A lot.

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