TL Boehm - Writer

At the end of the hallway at work there is a large round mirror. Every morning when I walk toward my office - I am confronted by my own personal portrait of ugliness....

Its difficult to find a picture of my family together because of that ugliness. My boys are awesome - all three of them and I want to show them off. So I have to suck it up, you know?

Anyway. I guess it started last year in November when the TPB's decided to lay off my coworker of five years and bring in some new, aggressive blood. (I'm often pinned for my spineless inclinations, sigh) Training the new kid, dodging bullets and picking up the debris from the old horse passing would have been more than enough but there were audits and issues beyond the normal scope of operations - and I was caught up in the mess. I thought it would be temporary...

Then God hit the fast forward button on my Dad's inevitable terminal disease. I spent a weekend with him in April - he had this routine...two weeks later I spent a day and he was bedridden...May 6 was the last time he looked at me and spoke to me...May 9th I watched my son break down as he helped me change Dad's diaper...and on the 10th he was gone.

Fred, my awesome kid graduated on the 14th and on the 16th I said that formal goodbye to Dad...I went back to work on the 18th...And my coworker walked off the job on the 20th over "principles" I stood there - watching her little chin quiver because she felt mistreated by the TPBs and I told her she shouldn't just walk...but she did. Her position is critical. She did the billing for our contract...roughly 16 hours worth of "normal" work to generate a 100k billing subject to audit...while accounting isn't rocket science - what we bill for IS...and more. And so I was the only person around who could step in...because I am the only other person there...

Since the 20th I have been putting in 12 hour days. I worked last Saturday. I brought work home last Monday. We have a temp but I haven't really had time to train her to do much but answer phones and file and return vendor calls. The billing is complex. It will be weeks, maybe months. And we still have financials and audits....

Suffice it to say, I start my day crying. And I end it crying. There is no processing of grief. Just raw tears.

So I had this talk this morning with the hub. I don't even know who I am anymore. He's a guy. He gives black and white answers like: "if you want to write....write..."

So here I am. I'm a mess of epic proportions. My heart is full of grief and anger and that ache that threatens to burst out in uncontrollable SCREAMING! I don't know - if I put my hand to paper what venom will come out...I just know it won't be "Beautiful" to read. But for whatever its worth, I'm back. Fat, ugly, pissed off, disappointed in my God, overwhelmed by my situation and pretty much hopeless...except for that tiny remembrance of words on paper...the unfolding of poetry and prose...whispers of dreams and destinies....the embrace of a world where I don't hurt and there is healing at the end of the page...I can almost get there from here.

It won't be every day. And it won't be pretty. There will be cussing. There will be dirges. But I am at bottom now. And this morning...my husband - he lifted my scarred, mutated, monster face to the light and said...you ARE....

I am....