Member-only story
Be Your Own Beloved
“Have a seat. Sure, wherever you want. I hate saying these words to you because they’re so loaded. But we really have to talk.”
“O…kay?” Ramrod-stiff back, alert for criticism.
“You went on vacation. To, you know, actually rest. Because you’ve been working eight to twelve hour days doing everything from slinging asphalt to your laundry. You knew you were stressed going into your vacation. We both know that last game night your head was tingling in that fun, familiar warning sensation of overload that happens right before you have seizures.”
“But…things have to get done.” Earnestly speaking, leaning in.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And you have that really over-honed sense of responsibility that was all but beaten into you by Grandma. But you’re forty-four years old. Grow the f@#$ up. You’re not Wonder Woman. You don’t get an award for making yourself sick. And you really frustrate everyone around you when you don’t rest.”
“I didn’t mean to overdo it.” Tears swim, posture slumps.
“You never do. And I understand. I really do. We spent three years sacked out on a couch barely able to do more than IM and listen to music on your computer. I don’t know about you — but I never want us to end up in that position again if we can help it. And you can help this. You’re in charge of your entire life. You…
