Unable to rise

I am unable to get out of bed this morning. I cannot stop mourning, weeping for my child, weeping for my grandchild. I want to minimize this pain, I want to convince myself this is not the worse thing in the world that has ever happened to me.

I have not lived a pain-free life. But my painful times - though huge - have been minimal, really, especially compared with most people on earth. And especially compared to my joi.

I look back though my life and try to measure the pain I felt during those few horrifically painful times with the pain I'm feeling now. I try to tell myself, surely this pain should not immobilize me, should not make more tears flow then have ever flowed in my life, should not fill my body with such grievous weight.

And yet I am here, crying out loud. A very rare occurrence for me. I'm old school when it comes to womyn and crying. I'm internally oppressed, as I feel crying is SUCH a weakness - yet my brain, my sense, my womonist/feminist self is incensed that I have such a hard time conquering that part of my oppression.

Well, I'm wailing now. I hope my roommate is out. I cannot control my sobs, as much as I want to yank them from me and stuff them into a quiet void.

At 11:30, I am finally able to drag myself out of bed and head for the post office. I am sending Jasi a package - I hope to send him one once a week as long as I am in exile.

After I walk to the post office, I decide to walk to BART. I want to get some Thai curry from Chinatown, and lychees. I pass the BART, realizing the walking in our beautiful sunny wondeful California day is making me feel so much bettter, revitalizing my energy, my legs, my walking spirit.

I stop and get myself a veggie oil filter on the way to Chinatown! I HOPE I can leave today. It is time.