My Angel

God sent me an angel last night.  Her name is Kesha - would you like to meet her?

God knew that I was in desperate need of some positive female energy and there she was!  Okay, so technically we work together and she's a real person but my definition of an angel is someone who comes in and gives you comfort just when you need it and by that definition, Kesha is an angel!

Kesha and I have grown close since I starting working here and she is a beautiful wonderful person.  She's so funny and straightforward, she's an excellent listener and there's no better feeling to tell someone something and for them to reply, "I KNOW!"  Kesha is that girl for me - I'm so thankful that she's in my life and that we've become friends.  She's been privy to all my recent ups and downs and she's offered her ear and shoulder many a time and I have gratefully taken it.  I'm totally not one of those people who will give you the head-tilt smile and tell you that I'm okay.  Nope, I'm the one with tears in my eyes and snot running out of my nose begging for a hug.  When I'm hurting, I have no shame.

Yesterday morning I took the dog to boarding for a few days.  I needed to have time away from her because if I didn't I would most assuredly lose my marbles.  I informed Drew of what I was going to do, which caused the big fight, prompting him to ask me if that's what I was going to do to my child and if I can't handle a dog I definitely am not ready to be a parent.  I haven't gotten over that - do. NOT. EVER. question. my (potential) ability as a mother.  It's a good way to get stabbed. 

Anyway, I came to work and was still really down.  That afternoon, Kesha asked me what I was going to do with my dog-free evening.  I told her I was going to go crazy and mop the kitchen floor.  And then I might get buck-wild and put the clean dishes away and load the dishwasher.  And if I'm not too worn out from my debauchery I might clean the bathrooms and take out the trash.  These are the things that I can't do because I'm chasing after the dog or don't care to do because I'm too depressed.  But Desiree, you say, can't you just put her in her crate and take care of all that stuff.  Yes, my darling, I could.  But you see, the dog just builds up energy in her crate so when she finally is let out, it's like a rocket out of a cannon.  The longer she's in there, the more psychotic, I mean energetic, she is.  However, if I leave her out of the crate, then I'm chasing after her to take whatever stick or piece of paper  is in her mouth out of her mouth because while I dislike the dog, I certainly don't want anything bad to happen to her and it would be just my luck for her to choke on something on my watch.  So lock her in a room, you say.  Same thing as the crate.  Hence the inability to tend to my home.  Because it's not about cleaning - it's about tending to my nest, it's about caring for my sanctuary.  For me, it's more than four walls; it always has been.   

Well, make the dog Drew's responsibility, you say.  He wanted it, he needs to take care of it.  Ahhh, if only.  He travels for business -- frequently.  Who takes care of her when he's gone?  That would be me.  And him being the sole caregiver while he's around negates his whole plan for us to be a family.  Nope, shared responsibility - it's not going down any other way.  And thus begins the madness.

However, with the dog at boarding I got some blessed peace.  And Kesha very quickly told me that there would be no cleaning, that she would come over with a movie and we were going to sit on the sofa and do nothing.  Now, I could have given the head-tilt, half-smile and told her that no, it's okay, I really need to get this done.  Ha!  I couldn't say yes fast enough, my only concession being that I didn't demand that she come home with me straight after work.  I let her go home and eat and change and then come over.  I'm so nice.

Kesha came over, we watched The Secret Life of Bees, a total chick-flick that no man should watch, lest they taint it with their testosterone.  We didn't talk much, and we didn't have to.  It was enough for me that my beautiful angel simply sat on my sofa with her t-shirt, flip-flops and pajama pants and comforted me.  Did you know angels wore pajama pants?  We just sat and watched the movie -- we smiled, we laughed, we cried and it was perfect.  I hugged her so hard when she left, I didn't even care if it hurt.  I wanted her to know how much she helped me, how her mere presence lifted my soul, how very thankful I was for her.

Because of that simple act, of bringing a girl movie, and sitting on the sofa with me, I have a little more energy to clean the house, a little more energy to face my relationship, a little more in me to find my way through this mess.  I'm not filled up, I'm not safe, but I've got enough in me to keep from giving up.  And that's something.

Thank you Kesha for being my angel!  (This was the day she went natural, because I had been telling her all about my natural hair journey - she looked so pretty!)

As I laid down and again when I woke up this morning, I said a prayer of thanks to God for watching over me and sending me an angel.  Big prayers, many thanks for keeping an eye out for me.  That's love y'all!