This was one of those times, which has been happening more frequently, but it wasn’t me. I’m not causing it. I know who I am and how I feel and why I feel it. Yet, again, I’ve got some person trying to explain to me what I’m feeling and then even going so far as to ascribe motives as to why I’m feeling it. Can’t they see I’m here, inhabiting this body and living this life? I’m present, accounted for.
Maybe this time I should speak up. Maybe I can break the cycle. Maybe I can affect social change, start a movement. We can wear lime green handmade hats with colored exclamation points on them, as if we’re saying, “HEY! Listen to me!!”. We need a chant, a slogan, a catchy way to summarize what we’re doing. A figurehead, maybe Senator Warren. She knows what it’s like.
“That hurt, it was not a pinch!”, I yell at the nurse. I hate getting my flu shot.
Baby steps.
