a piggy pony's lament

i have set out on my own crooked path as of late, working hard to set everyone else's paths straight.  how tedious a job it is to set paths straight.  our own or others.  it is a long, try hard, never quite finished job.  of course,  i find my time is useful in helping others.  it makes it easy for me to ignore where i am.  on a crooked path.  rinse.  repeat.

try as i might to appear happy and grounded and thoughtful and kind.  i flat out struggle.  i am broken with a bunch of sadness piled on.  i am weak.  and often because i can't stand to suffer, i ignore my sadness and take care of others.  that is the truth, ruth.  but i'm learning {very slowly} to sit in my mess and just be.  i am giving myself grace to grieve in the long, slow, way that i do.  without taking responsibility for the sadness of others.  without asking permission to feel the way i do.  this is uncharted territory for me, and it is really uncomfortable.  i know it runs deep because my girlfriends said so.  i can picture them with their hands at the ready, "yes we know you are {air quotes} handling all of the things."  i scoffed at them.  of course i am.  it's what i {air quotes} do.  

it all catches up in the end.  you can try to breeze by grief.  you can run along a seemingly straight path until your sides hurt and your breath is heavy, but eventually you get to a switchback.  no amount of saving others will save you from yourself.  no crooked path set straight will erase the struggle it took to get there.

this post brought to you by the piggiest of ponies in all of ireland.  should you meet up with this rogue brute somewhere on the dingle peninsula.  give it some grass and back away.  get back in your car and drive on the left side of the road.  to another place.  and for the love of all things.  do not pay to give it pellets.