MandatoryPositive

The Cast ♥️ Opening Night!  My last photo with my mom. She died 26 Days later.  WRITING PROMPT WEEK 7: Discuss a time when you felt inspired .  I love the stage, but I hadn't acted in YEARS. I was one of the featured speakers at a Kwanzaa event and this woman in the audience insisted that I audition for a play that she was bringing to the local theater. I had heard of it, but I had only known the screen adaptation and the subject matter seemed a bit heavy for my already stressed life. I auditioned anyway.  The audition process for this play was not like anything I had ever experienced. We had a discussion circle, met all the other actresses and were even given a creative writing prompt. I was all in. These were my people. I rarely felt like that, but I got that energy from day one.  I wrote about my childhood and even though it was only supposed to be a couple of words, I could have kept going. I was inspired. I hadn't felt inspired in so long and it felt good....

   I had finally gotten to travel for work. They sent me to a training for three weeks in Kansas City. Most people were complaining about having to go, but I was excited. The weather was hot and sunny and the city was “walker friendly with well maintained side walks and thought out street lights and signs. Every day after class I would go walking 5 or 6 miles.    I loved the warmth of the sun, the feeling of safety and the ability to be carefree.   Mom had gotten her kidney transplant the year before and it seemed to be going great. Every time I called home she was into some new adventure and feeling good. It was the first time in so long that I had    exhaled in allowed myself to feel peace. I reveled in the training, meeting new people from around the world, and for the first time, only having to worry about myself. I was happy. 

Something didn’t feel right in my soul for YEARS. Every time I looked at him it was off and I noticed he didn’t make eye contact with me.     He was getting sick all the time because the rest of his body couldn’t ignore it     like his brain did.   I hated myself for being silent, but my mind could not deal with the pain that was going to be released when I opened my mouth so I kept it shut.    I thought tiny cuts every day    would be less painful than the gaping wound of a harsh stab..... I was wrong.    Bleeding out slowly was much worse. The tiny cuts were everywhere and the salt poured in those wounds meant there was no OK anywhere.      I hated myself for wasting my time, for not dreaming, for losing hope, for letting him steal my joy, my money, my time,    my light. I hated myself and I just wanted to die.   The Mandatory positive is that I don’t anymore.