I am grateful. The cops have been nice and not dismissive even though the theft of a woman's wardrobe is just really odd and not restorable (wouldn't fit anyway), friends have been supportive, I'm alive, my dogs weren't taken, all the thank-god things.

Unharmed. I always seem that.

But I'm not. 

I want out of here. As enviable as it all is in many ways, the fancy awards my work wins lately, my kids being solid humans in the face of their own considerable struggles, I'm lucky af - but still - I want out of this life. I have for years, since the first time I bought this iron mailbox

for shaken womanbaby syndrome

I gotta pull it together. 

Is it just me or does everyone have this job: pull it together, hide your heartache for the sake of the kids(?). For the status quo? Be grateful?

shotgun - george ezra