Tick, tick, tick

Waiting room, what an aptly named horrible space.

Blank look

Blank space

Everyone in here as expressionless as a stone, although stones don’t have faces, god forbid I said something metaphorical thinking someone would understand.

Thinking in emotions is harder to communicate than I had ever anticipated. We learn the words. Anger, sadness, joy, but just like colors we assume everyone experiences them all the same. There’s no possible way to know, how do you see through another’s eye’s? Have you ever tried?

My mom always said she wasn’t a mind reader, I’m convinced she lied to make me practice using my words. Didn’t anyone else’s mom teach them what they were feeling? Why did mine have the words to be able to ask me to practice in not such words? I learned much later on in life that it was pain, not just feeling it and getting through to the other side of it, but having to coach herself through it. By herself, she chose to hope for better in her life and I don’t think she knows how powerful that choice was and still continues to be. I’m a better person because my grandest mothers chose to love in the ways they were able to, that doesn’t mean the love was always felt but the choice was always made, the heartbreak truly heals in the realization that the love was always the choice, and the choice could never be anything other than love