Thursday, May 1, 2014

Day 41: Big-Girl Pants Girl

 April 10, 2014


Inside of me is a person who clearly is wearing big-girl pants. No kidding. And she seems to be the one running the show right now. She's the one that's like, "That's fine. You just keep running through your head scenarios that end up in you dying and while you're doing that, I'm just going to get you dressed and out the door to work." Or "No shame in walking down the hallway crying your little head off. I'm just going to slide these sunglasses down over your eyes and keep you walking towards the office, because you have some work to do in there now."

Big-girl Pants Girl is making some serious stuff happen. She's gotten me out of the house for a run (twice!) and a bike ride. She made scrambled eggs with spinach and feta last night and didn't give a hoot that I had absolutely no interest in doing such a thing. She doesn't mind if I spend hours online or otherwise checking out in some way, but eventually, she's like, "Alright, numb-y pants, we're going to brush your teeth now. And take out your contacts. And go to bed." And I comply. And even when I don't, she just makes the body do what it needs to do. Start the car. Put on the seat belt. Drive off to work. She does this while I am falling down inside. While I am incapable, she is making things happen.

Big-girl Pants Girl doesn't spend time trying to tell me not to feel sad, because she knows that's silly. And that's not her job. She doesn't really care how I feel, actually. Her job is only to get things done. In fact, she has nothing to say to me in regards to if I'm sobbing or smiling or sleeping or sitting motionless in my car for nearly an hour. She lets me do it and then finally says, "Ok. You can't go inside. I get it. But how about you pick up your phone and text someone while you're sitting here?" Big-girl Pants Girl does that. And when I tell her the phone's too heavy or too far or please, Lord Jesus, just let me sit here and make it all stop, she reaches for the phone instead.

She gets me to Korean class on Mondays and Thursdays and makes the 1.5 hour round trip via car and subway. She steps over the gap when the subway doors open and finds a seat and sits down. When the subway reaches my stop, Big-girl Pants Girl gets me up and gets me off the subway. She follows the long twisted hallways and takes me to the steps that spit me out onto the city streets and while I'm wondering what's the point and considering sitting down right there, right on the sidewalk, and not moving until someone comes along and makes me, Big-girl Pants Girl just keeps my legs moving. She keeps me walking when I can't possibly do it myself.

Big-girl Pants Girl has taken me grocery shopping. She made a 6-hour round trip drive to Hadong and she sang at a norebang. She walked me through a park and didn't care that I felt incapable of seeing the beauty. She took a picture so I could look at it later, when perhaps I would.

I am liquid grief inside, held together by her shape. I slosh and spill out and only settle when she's still and then I pour out onto the ground. Big-girl Pants Girl collects me up again when it's time to move and doesn't mind the mess. I'm not sure where she gets her determination. I'd have given up long ago.

Big-girl Pants Girl has a strong will to live, even when I don't. She is in there. She is in charge. Most would say Thank God. I say do what you will, Big-girl Pants Girl. I don't have the energy to fight with you.


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