Everyone has bad days. 

When I vent to the Carpenter about life’s challenges, it is a total download of every thought, conversation and innuendo in my day. And I can’t help it. I jumble the narrative. I talk fast. He said; then she said; they said. 

Sometimes I pace the room, expressing the full range of emotions with dramatic movements and colourful dialogue. I have to get it all out. Everything. 

It’s a verbal sorting of the baggage, an airing of the issues, a fluff and fold of the insanity if you will. More times than not, it ends in fits of laughter because I am a one-woman comedy show more often than a dramatic monologue. 

I’m honest. I own my part in it all, from the slings I’ve slung and the arrows that hit, because I have to acknowledge the casualties I’ve caused as much as my own wounds. 

If there are tears, he knows the difference between a good cleanse and a legit panic attack. It’s safe either way. 

He never confuses my sensitive emotions for weakness, and I have never needed to prove my strength. Our respect is mutual. 

That is a powerful truth. 

If I’ve got myself in a mess, he helps me untangle it. If I feel backed into a corner, the Carpenter is like the coach in a boxing ring, telling me how to put up my dukes and come out swinging, metaphorically speaking. He doesn’t try to change my nature. 

Setting boundaries isn’t as easy for me as it is for him. But he’s taught me a lot about standing up for myself. Trusting my intuition. Using my voice. Owning it. 

There are those who preach integrity and those who embody it. I’m learning from the best. 

He knows lectures won’t work. Solutions do. And I know sympathy is not a Band Aid solution. He will tell me the truth even when I don’t want to hear it. If it stings, he will kiss it better.  (Full disclosure: sometimes I fake the sting, just for the reward). 

His best advice to any problem is this: process it; sort it through. File it away. Never forget the lesson, but don’t dwell on the situation. People will let you down. Never let yourself down. Move on. 

The Carpenter knows I don’t need to be rescued. I don’t need him to fight my battles. I just need to be heard. To be understood. 

Strength of character, like faith in love, is something you build over time. I’m not weak in either. 

Not even on a bad day

WriteOut of Her Mind