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  • Writer's pictureLaurie A Pearsall

Dear Darby: Sunday morning

Blessed morn indeed. Yesterday is thankfully where I left it. I'm no-shit truly grateful for this time, this opportunity - and I can't believe I can can say this after the skin-crawling mental agony that's peppered the last few days. I resisted the I Ching, I resisted myself and got involved in someone else's highly toxic relationship - to get mind-f*cked again by the terremoto and the aftermath he left behind. Yet, I am the one who let them breach my boundaries. Friday = Oops. Saturday = Oops. Sunday = airplane mode. She gave me another change I mean chance to dig myself deeper. The clocks have changed. I am no longer her bodyguard.


"Do not rob them of their path" stares at me from my 2006 painting. I've placed it right here in the living room on an easel my brother gave me. A quote from a healing session 30 years ago. And so here on Easter Sunday I am reminded not to rob myself of my own path by running back into the house on fire to save all those ghosts - the lost girls and boys. This is not Alfred, Maine. This is not Gloucester, Massachusetts. This is not Belchite or Muro Spain.



This is my home the fruits of my labor of a bid for self-love and salvation from illness. And I am sticking to my promise to myself, regardless of the fall-out.


Unedited journal entry excerpt, March 31, 2024.



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