I am my own unique self – special, creative, and wonderful
Kelly was asleep by the time Michelle came home. From the muttering and noise as she came down the hall in the dark, she had been drinking heavily. Kelly, not exactly sober herself, woke enough to move over when her partner climbed into bed. Michelle said nothing, and Kelly fell back to sleep with a thought that alcohol seemed the only solution to arguments between them.
A palpable sense of uneasiness descended on the house in the next couple of days. Even though Michelle didn't mention the fight or her words, her actions suggested she wasn't sorry for them and in fact she was miffed that Kelly hadn't apologized. Kelly, for her part, spent the time she couldn't avoid being near Michelle using wine to numb her swirling emotions and to stifle the urge to scream. She was miserable, and there seemed no end to her misery except through a chardonnay haze.
On the third morning, Kelly woke to a headache and a roiling stomach. As she bent over the toilet, it occurred to her that she had completely forgotten all the reasons she had wanted to quit drinking in the first place. She had been so intent on drinking to avoid Michelle, drinking at her, that she had abandoned what progress she could claim toward sobriety. The realization clung to her through breakfast and hovered over her as she moved mechanically through her workday.
When she finally left the office at one, she didn’t go home, instead driving almost aimlessly through town. She ended up at a used bookstore near UNC-G, one that she had always enjoyed browsing for their selection of lesbian romances. Romance was far from her mind now, however, and she wandered the stacks not sure of what she was in search of.
“You look lost.” The voice belonged to a young girl with curly brown hair and an engaging smile. She was dressed in a flowing Indian-style skirt and Amnesty International t-shirt. Kelly had noticed her earlier behind the counter.
“A little,” she admitted. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
“Well, what are you in the mood for; fiction, non-fiction?”
Kelly sighed. “A how-to book for life, maybe?”
The girl laughed. “Ah, more of an existential crisis.” She motioned toward the philosophy section. “I think I know something you might enjoy.”
Kelly followed her and accepted the slim book the girl pulled off the shelf. The Wisdom of No Escape, she read, by a Buddhist nun named Pema Chödrön. She scanned the back, finding the description surprisingly interesting.
“Pema’s stuff is great, but this is my favorite,” the girl said. “It really gets into the meat of life.”
“Sounds good, I’ll take it,” Kelly replied. She wandered for a few more minutes before heading to the cash register.
The girl smiled at her again. “If you like this, there are a couple of other authors I can turn you onto.”
“You know a lot about Eastern philosophy, I take it?”
“I’m majoring in philosophy, so yeah. That, and it helped me through a really tough time.” The girl glanced away for a second, her smile dimming. “When things seem darkly hopeless, sometimes you have to make your own sunshine.”
“Well, I could use some sunshine,” Kelly commented. “And you certainly seem sunny enough, so it must work.”
The girl laughed. “It took some work, but yes. I think I’m pretty sunny.”
Kelly paid and left. She thought about the girl on the drive home, how easy her laugh had been, how just being near her had lifted Kelly’s own spirits. She was probably in her late twenties, not a child by any means, although not old enough to be as heart-worn as Kelly felt. Still, Kelly had seen deep pain in her eyes for a moment, pain that couldn’t have been easy to get past.
She glanced at the bag on the seat next to her; if Pema Chödrön could allow her to smile half as easily, she would be eternally grateful.
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