It was just another night.

A few girls and I gathered at my house and ordered some food. Later that night, we were heading out to dance.

Actually, scratch that.

It used to be —–  just another night.

Then; my maternity happened. Plus Worldwide Covid.

Now: none of us really go out anymore.

On this exceptional night, some friends and I gather to pregame.

We drink and we eat. We laugh and we speak.

Fast forward a few hours later.

We’re at the event. People smell good and look nice. The music is cool.

I’m enjoying myself.

I’m dancing some, I’m drinking some, getting lots of positive energies: these occasions are few.

Few to say never.

I’m laughing ad mingling. I’m feeling nice and swell.

I’m also feeling 1000 degrees. Damn.

I decide to get some fresh air: it’s way too hot in here.

I’m minding my business, heading to the staircase when this guy asks me:

-”Hey, are you ok? Looks like you hurt yourself!”

Red lights blink through all my internal departments and my Ego’s piercing siren goes off.

Oh great.

Break my bubble, throw some dirt, broadcast my Scarlet Letter; sure.

Pin Me’ with my Handicap Dart. Shower me with the Freezing-Cold fact: I’m injured.

Yeah.

I know that I was trying to cool off; but I had no clue this intense numbing  flurry was coming my way.

Operating with the background floor music: it’s vigorously whipping through all my personal cockroaches.

I wasn’t even thinking about myself. Or my limp!  But thanks for reminding me.

It.Gets.Me.                   Every.Single.Time.

You’d think 14 years later: I’d get used to it.

You know, at least; I’d have some type of immunity.

… Nah.

-”Thanks but I’m fine. I walk like this everyday.” I answer him.

I haven’t pushed the outside doors yet, but I feel a drift —– of shame.

Then my inner voice: “I’m never safe anywhere, they see it, they see me broken.”

I recognize the cue.

“In-Box” work needed.

As if I want to do that now! Smh.

I find a stool by the door and take a breather.

From my world, from my “crooked step”: take a stride back Alexa.

Okay.

My imperfect step, this big sensitive fact: this is me. I can’t pretend anything else.

But truly… it’s not just me. Let’s do some lens work. Life isn’t about just me.

Everyone has shit to deal with.

You got stuff, I got stuff.

She does too — and that celebrity we idealize: does as well.

Right. We all have sensitive issues.

The voice continues: “But what is difficult about our stuff—-I mean this ONE – Single – Sole piece of our stuff: is that it’s visible. Thus, at any time, any where: people hold an easy trigger!”

True but, I don’t want to avoid people.

I want to go outside, be with my girlfriends. Everyday: I run errands, I workout and I travel lots. I’m very active. I do and I go. I push and believe me: I know.

I know that I’m injured but I don’t want to be reminded that I am different.

That I survived that huge accident with an injury. That basically: I’m broken.

This situation demonstrates exactly how my vulnerability can be broadcasted, highlighted and announced to me.

I’m a little faded and now I’m completely bothered.

I wasn’t trying to be self conscious.

I wish I’d get over this quick! Alex, you were doing well five minutes ago, thus: don’t give this too much power.

I recognize that at times; people are just trying to converse, have small talk.

Some are plain curious and others: truly wish they could help. That’s true.

It still stings though, it makes me cringe.

Ok. Enough now. Move your attention. Get up —- you cool enough.

Back to my girls.

Something will happen, and shift my energy.

Right.

I get up from the stool and head back inside.

The night continues as I focus to juggle with my appreciative thoughts. ‘I’m here with women I love. I’m healthy. I love to dance!”

Until I get home, shower and go to bed: I still tug with my “in-box” off and on.

That said; I tug with my “in-box” everyday concerning different type of weights.

That’s.just.another.normal.day.

Nothing special.