the Western front

"You're off, aren't you," she said with her huge blue eyes of discernment.
"Don't beat yourself up," she said with her day-research data imploring eyes.
"You know, we're all not as intellectual as you. Believe me, if I thought it was horrible, I would tell you. It was good. People were talking," she said with toss of her voluminous mane.
I hung around weakly last night after it was over. Performance anxiety. The class didn't flow. Fragments. Pieces. I didn't hook and knit, hook and knit for greater awareness. It wasn't good. I hated myself. I hated serving.
But, before I flung myself into the rainy p.m., and stepped one by one alone towards an incrimating van, they had stopped me.
It's less than you're making it out to be. You're good. We believe in you. You can't mar the higher God-factor.
Women can gossip and dash and judge and advise; however, the women whom I hang out with now are not like this. It's possible to know authentic, caring, encouraging women. I know so many and am truly blessed.
My Thursday a.m. class was wonderful; it wasn't about me hooking and knitting. I 'led' yet it's a support group for a beautiful young attorney whose husband doesn't want her any more, and a sweet person who lives in a world of feelings and colliding intellect and creativity (wow, I can relate to that) with a crappy legalist-religious joy-stealing Christian wrong upbringing, and another woman's close relative's suicide, (among others issues) which cause us to dig a trench to discover a position.
A position. The WWI soldiers in trench warfare always had to run from one to the next. Back and forth. Surely there's a respite.
In "All Quiet on the Western Front", one of their best respites involved emptying their bowels together on buckets placed around in a circle. They'd laugh, joke, curse, cry, and enjoy the break from the battlefield. Of course, they'd go back out to be part of their generational force of death or curse. But, they had their moments of grace.
Yes, unlike those boys, we have clothes, makeup, and high-heeled boots on. But, I'm telling you, stuff is going down. Shit is happening. A lot of other people don't care or won't relate.
Community helps. I would die in my natural loneliness without it (although, paradoxically, I must learn to live in my loneliness comfortably).
Merci le Dieu. La vie est etrange and belle. I want to be a part of it despite the difficulties!
Au revoir!
Fieldfleur