Seven Letters and the Gospel of AFP

Some days suck, like today. We’re busting ass at the pharmacy, while every business around us closes because we’re on the verge of a zombie apocalypse. We had a handful of patients who apologized for bothering us over their maintenance meds. There’s a few cases of the flu, and there’s the unasked question hanging in the air: is it something more serious? Are we going to have to quarantine everyone?

And then some fucking dicksmack of a patient fills out the survey and logs a CAPSLOCK COMPLAINT because we don’t have any face masks. Here’s a newsflash:

NO ONE HAS FACE MASKS.

I’m cleaning out my house to sell it – alone – because my husband is, as my mother would say, a “flippin’ idiot’. He’s sitting in detainment for an indeterminate length of time because the US government can’t even do deportations properly and send my husband back to Canada without fucking up their own shit.

I received seven letters from the detainment facility today. SEVEN. They alternate between short snippets about life inside, and self-loathing put to paper. He keeps marveling over me handling things on my own. I read the letters and wonder how I’m managing it myself. He wrote about how happy he is that I’m doing this big solo adventure, “scary and exhilarating” and so completely unlike me. He’s sad he’ll miss it, but he’s just so fucking proud I’m making this plan.

Then I have to breathe, and remember that this is something that’s happening. Whether I want it to or not, whether either of us is ready or not.

And I keep thinking, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. What the fuck do I think I’m doing? This isn’t me, I can’t do this.

Then, I consult the gospel of Amanda Fucking Palmer.

And it’s funny how I imagined
That I could win this, win this fight
But maybe it isn’t all that funny
That I’ve been fighting all my life
But maybe I have to think it’s funny
If I wanna live before I die
And maybe it’s funniest of all
To think I’ll die before I actually see
That I am exactly the person that I want to be
Fuck yes
I am exactly the person that I want to be

Maybe I could be that person. Maybe I’m looking at things the wrong way around. I keep looking at it like I’m the weak one who wishes she was strong.

Maybe I’m just too scared to see how strong I can be.