practicewithlisa

She glares down at her dirty fingernails; underneath them is dead bloody skin stuffed in. Trying to stay productive has just taken a turn for the worse. Trying to remember when it wasn’t this hard to just send an email starts to push her towards letting it out. The tears. That stinging burning feeling in her face starts to take over, her eyes squeeze closed to stop it. “Deep breath.” she reminds herself, “…this isn’t forever.” But it feels like forever to her, her grace throughout the process comes and goes like a shitty boyfriend. Every now and then she remembers the affirmations and they encompass her with hope, she’ll get a good night’s sleep and won’t peel off the scabs for a night. Then after a bad fight with her ego or quite literally her own skin, her grace quickly evades her; being alone during this time is sadly one of the only things that fills her back up. “Forget the emails, I wonder if I have time to soak before I teach this afternoon.” Epsom baths are the best medicine for this disease; rejuvenates the dry skin, cleanses the fingernails and the scabs and calms the mind and body. 

The stares, questions and even the sympathy makes her skin crawl. Trapped inside her own skin quite literally. This isn’t the attention she wants or has worked for. One drop, two drop, three drop, the whole dropper and then one more for good measure. Rescue remedy helps the tight chest caused from anxiety when she bears her face in public. She puts the remedy back into her bag of tricks and throws it on the floorboard of her messy car. Since the flare came back she lost her organization, it’s a convenience to be as organized as she would like to be. Necessity is now key. Eat only what you need, wear only what feels good on the skin, do what will keep the stress levels at bay and then rest. Lots and lots of anxious rest. She hates all the rest. Life doesn’t stop for this, there is no pause button for all the opportunities that arise and pass by. She’s stuck in the bath. Shedding over and over again. Shedding the idea of perfection, what life should be like and of course all the dead, dry, red skin.  

Each times she steps out of a bath, it’s like a fresh start. This time she won’t scratch. This time she won’t break down. This time she will wake up in the morning with huge improvement. Maybe. She also has grown accustomed to being humbled time and time again. This ebb and flow of two steps forwards, one step back is making her stronger.