Iced coffee and windows with paintings on them of flowers that aren't really flowers
Give me enough to give you.

I always pray this.

I make things. I look at things that are lovely, and take photos of them.
I have a gift I abuse and neglect and only use it when my heart has too much in it.

I buy groceries from fancy stores, and pretend I deserve to eat fancy cheeses and bake fish with avocado or kale.

I go for walks, and eat too much chocolate, and have developed a taste for craft beer. I'm making up my life as I go along but I am supported and I am loved and I

didn't do anything in particular to earn this.

I should have plenty and I do have plenty.

But, can't stop with the thinking and my mind doesn't let me have my basic needs like you don't have yours. You don't eat.

I eat angel food cake and cream and strawberries all cut up and spreading juice.

I don't sleep.

Sometimes, I see glimpses of maybe.

This maybe is a good thing. Maybe, I can make a difference. Maybe, I can make this person feel loved or safe and not feel like they've fallen through the cracks.

I am very aware of the fact that me saying "I should also be starving" and giving a patient my meal is not the most hands-off approach. But, I am also very aware there are times I should have been starving, and that Bible verses go through my head and all I can feel is shame and humility.

People stick with me I suppose. I think this a thing, I will always have. Maybe.

How did you process this? She asked me.

And I told her I have volcanoes in my heart and most of the time they are manageable, but sometimes they are not.

Maybe I have a soft spot for men who are broken, or maybe just people that are broken. That respect is a thing that everyone deserves, and that me granting that respect does not mean I have done anything particularly great. It just means that I did the basic thing, and it breaks my heart. I have a hard time with patients that have been disrespected and it so hurts my heart for them.