Alison Wonderland

“Phoebe just threw a Jack away because he didn’t look happy.”

wooden logic puzzle

I have a new friend named, Logic.  She’s strict but comprehensible.  She told me a secret I’ve longed to hear.  I’ll get what I want, she promised.  All I have to do is wait.  At first, I wasn’t satisfied.  I want what I want right now.  But after a while, I thought it through and decided I accept.  I know too well where impatience leads.  I recognize my options, and I’ve made my choice.

I’m grateful for this bit of control.  Patience it is.  Logic also told me I can endure until the promise is fulfilled.  I wanted to argue, but facts are facts.  I dislike pain.  It’s uncomfortable.  My gut is on fire most of the time.  But it’s just pain.  I’m stronger than pain.  It takes a lot of effort to refrain from laying down wherever I am.  Gravity pursues me.  I’m suddenly able to sleep for hours at a time, after decades of insomnia.  I’m thankful.

Logic told me it doesn’t matter how I feel.  Feelings are inconvenient irrelevancies.  They’re merely consequences of flesh.  It’s silly to identify and acknowledge them.  I’ve decided to let them go.  I’m glad I mastered self-discipline.  When they arise, I’ll focus on what I want.  I’m going to get what I want.  Just not when I want.  Good enough.

woman reading a map

I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and trust myself to endure.  I recognize other wants satisfied.  Such as insulation from other humans.  Isolation is gentle and sweet.  It’s the only habitable zone for my broken flesh.  I cherish it, for it allows me to be.  There is only one human I can be near without holding my breath.  He fascinates me.  He knows, understands, and loves me.  I set him free daily.

If one day he doesn’t return, I hope it’s because he found joy elsewhere.  I want to attend the upcoming Fleetwood Mac concert.  I was worried I wouldn’t be able to go and celebrate the band among so many others.  Logic told me I can go.  I don’t have to smile at, look at, or talk to the other fans.  All I have to do is show up and find my seat.  I even have time to practice driving there before showtime.

I suspect I’ll feel a great deal of joy at the concert, despite my moratorium on feelings.  So be it.  I’ll bring plenty of tissues.

 

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