I need to go shopping.
The tears fall heavily, the breaths juddering and irregular, my thoughts spiralling and my face getting steadily more puffy.
The tears have nothing to do with my need to go shopping. They’re just there. And their presence is a hindrance.
I want go back to bed. To hide. To cry until all the tears are gone and there’s nothing left inside me.
I know that if I do that, the shops will shut before I resurface. Tomorrow they’ll stay closed, and by Monday I will be ravenous.
Instead of hiding, I take the tablets*, pushing them out of their blister packaging with shaking fingers, washing them down with big, greedy gulps of cold water.
I still need to go shopping.
Whatever magic is in those tablets, they’re truly incredible – the tears dry up almost instantly. I pull myself together. Pull myself back into this world of doing not being.
Then I wash my face, pick up my shopping bag and go shopping.
While I’m out, I buy postcards. The wordy sort my family don’t approve of. I’m going to put them on the wall with the others. Regardless.
The tablets might dry tears but they can’t reduce puffiness. The shops don’t care though. My money has the same value regardless of what my face looks like. This, I think, is probably a good thing.
* they’re just vitamin D. They contain more placebo than anything else 🙂