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musingsbyellecse · 7 months ago

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Self Care is About the Little Things

Self Care is about the little things. I have been really stressed out this week, and honestly the 2 weeks before as well. I’m starting to have ideas about the way things have aligned to create this three week long buildup of events that led to this week, but that’s for another time.

I wanna talk about self care, but like for real. Not the foo foo self care stuff that’s only surface level and reactionary, like having been struggling emotionally, financially, and/or mentally for the last few weeks, months, or years, and then somebody tells you to do a face mask. And I don’t mean the big, periodic, but intentional self care things either, like meditating, praying, venerating, etc. on a full moon or a new moon. No, I mean the self care you can do every day or week. The little things that refill your power bar moment by moment as it gets drained by the world outside of us.

I mean going on a short, 30 minute walk after your lunch. What if you don’t have an hour-long lunch? Valid. I mean coming home to a messy apartment because your apartment had bed bugs so you had to move to a hotel for 2 weeks and the day you got back (and spent the day moving back 2 weeks’ worth of clothes and toiletries, plus all the many items that would be ruined while your apartment gets heated up to 150 degrees to crisp all the bedbugs–sorry, I digress). After dumping all your things in your apartment, you had to pack for a trip to Catalina Island for Valentine’s Day. Then, when you get back to your apartment full of shit from your hotel stay, you throw your multiple luggage bags down and have to work your full time job. You come home, already tired from working full time, to an apartment that is, quite literally, a shitshow (okay, no shit but you get what I mean).

I don’t know about you, but when my space is messy, my life is messy. I had so much cleaning and organizing and laundry to do, and when I was at work, I had so much emailing, scheduling, and planning to do. I decided to write down the long list of things I needed to get done at home: unpack all my suitcases, put away all my laundry, put toiletries away, put away all my spiritual supplies, etc. Plus, “rearrange the kitchen, rearrange the bathroom, rearrange the closet.” (When I go in, I go in.) Looking at this huge list of things to do can be overwhelming, but I realize I have to get it out of my head, and on to something I can visualize and tackle one-by-one. Plus, I love crossing things out.

Back to what you’d do if you didn’t have an hour lunch and you just came back from bed bugs and an island trip: You’ve got a lot of things on your to-do list, and maybe some of these things are space renovations. Well, if you were me last night, you would have gone grocery shopping to have an excuse (albeit a reasonable one) to be in the kitchen, because that’s been a space on your list for a minute. You play your favorite album, artist, or playlist that gets you through it (mine is When I Get Home followed by A Seat at the Table, both by Solange) while you put the groceries away and you wash the literal pile of dishes on your sink and stove. (Don’t judge me, I know you’ve been there.) With this good music and being able to visibly see mess disappear, you start to get in a little groove, “What can I do next? How else can I make some mess disappear without too much exertion?” You turn to your messy pantry. You’re getting rid of things you ain’t have no business continuing to hold onto, you put all your seasonings back on one, easily accessible shelf, you reorganize your snacks and ingredients so they make sense and are efficient with space. Hell, you might even spend a few minutes reconfiguring the arrangement of a fruit basket and cereal boxes. You’re in a nice funk! You love that this album/artist/playlist always helps you recenter and find peace (Thank you, Solange).

You’ve now spent a good part of your evening rearranging and cleaning one thing at a time. You may not have busted out the Clorox and scrubbed every crevice, but you got that pantry looking good again! You finally cleared off the kitchen table that was really just the “I don’t know where else to put this shit” table (same for the top of the microwave). You finally did something with them cardboard and storage boxes in the corner. You step back and marvel at your work. You think, “I actually want to be in this kitchen now!” You have two candles on your table and your favorite album/artist/playlist playing, and you decide to finally sit down and write your first blog post, something you’ve been wanting to do for a while, but didn’t know how to start, and didn’t make time for it.

But you did this time. After a shitty week, and a shitty 2 weeks before that. The rest of your apartment may still be a shitshow, but at least your bed is clear and your kitchen looks nice. It’s the little things out of this grand event of life. It’s going step by step. That’s self care.

-From 2022

#self care #self love #essay #personal essay

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musingsbyellecse · 7 months ago

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La Cicatriz

She was insecure about it, the scar. Her once symmetrical face forever ruined by a brief moment. With it, her dreams of a modeling career.

"Honey, there are PLENTY of models without the 'picture-perfect' face. These scouters are looking for..."

Sami's mom's voice trailed off as the would-be model lost herself in everything that could have been.

"Thanks mom," she muddled sarcastically. Picture-perfect? Really? Rub it in, why don't you. Sami was filled with rage. She stood up from the table in the small cafe. "Mom, I have to go."

"So soon?" Her mother inquired doubtfully, wondering if she'd overstepped.

For a brief moment, Sami felt a twinge of guilt. She knew her mom was just trying to help, but she'd spent the last 6 years working toward a successful modeling career and now both her face and her self-confidence were ruined because of one stupid little accident.

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It was a chilly September evening. Sami was walking back from her late afternoon shift as a bartender at the adjacent neighborhood's popular restaurant, Filling's. Pulling her boyfriend's open flannel tighter across her body, Sami folded her arms into her midriff. She was only a few blocks away from their shared apartment when she got a call. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she smiled as she saw the name "Dave" light across her screen, followed by several pink heart, star, and kissy face emojis.

"Hey babe, I'm almost home," she answered.

"Sweet, I have the coolest thing to show you!" Dave replied ecstatically.

"Oh gosh, what is it?"

"Just wait 'til you get here, it's so cool babe. I'm gonna bring it to-- agh just get here I'm gonna spoil it!"

Sami laughed, "Okay, I'll be there in like 5 minutes."

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"Sami, honey?" Her mom said, beginning to stand up from her seat.

Sami snapped out of her recollection, her rage burning even brighter. "Mom, it's fine, I'm fine," she retorted. Sami sighed, "I gotta go, it's an appointment with a potential agent."

"Oh honey that's great! See! I told you this wasn't the end. You're so beautiful Sami, anyone--" Her mom's voice trailed off again.

Normally, she'd feel bad about lying to her mom. They had a good relationship, or at least they did before the accident. After that, everything in Sami's life changed. Routines faltered, just getting out of bed was a chore, relationships were harder to keep too, to say nothing of employment. Her bartending gig at Filling's fell through shortly after her return from the hospital when she missed 6 consecutive shifts without notice. Three more bartending jobs lasted less than a month each. She moved back in with her mom after her savings ran dry and no new income was coming in to save her from eviction.

She tried therapy. She tried church, meditation, psychiatry, and yoga. Nothing seemed to free her from the shackles of despair. It's just so fucking UNFAIR! She often thought. It had been 6 months since the accident, and she was finally free of the moping. What took its place, however, was rage. Sami would wake up with anger oozing from every pore of her scarred face. She'd spend several minutes staring at herself in the mirror every morning, ignoring the affirmations her mother convinced her to put around the edges in hopes of restoring her confidence. Tracing her eyes from her left temple down the winding river of scar tissue that ended on the right side of her nose. Deep, cavernous, and fucking ugly.

After several minutes of hating her own appearance each morning, she'd look down as she gripped the sink. Her eyes couldn't help but seek the next victim of her body--her left hand, with its scar tissue bisecting the extremity between the middle and ring finger, extending down to her wrist.

"Yeah mom, thanks. Wish me luck," Sami swallowed her recurring anger just long enough to choke out a smile and hug her mom before turning to exit the cafe. As soon as the air hit her face, she threw on her sunglasses and her hood to protect her anonymity and stomped down the sidewalk. Before, she could hardly get past one block without someone shouting to greet her. Now, with the shades and hoodie seemingly as a part of her as the gash across her face, no one greeted her, no one recognized her, hell, no one even looked at her. The rage within her had become her only friend, the only one who understood her, who accepted her as she was. Everyone else wanted to make her feel better, they wanted her to get over it, to not be consumed by the despair. No one seemed to understand the kind of pain that came from taking your only dream away...from having it taken from you.

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She had finally reached the front door. Fumbling with her key, the door swung open, yanking her hand with it, to reveal David gleaming with excitement.

"Sami!!!!!" He shouted.

"Wow, is it that exciting?" Sami asked, reciprocating his full-faced grin.

"Come in come in, I need to show you!"

Sami stepped past the threshold into the small home, chuckling at the mess of margarita mix, tequila, and wet napkins on the kitchen table to the right. No wonder he's so damn excited, she thought. She quickly turned to bring her eyes to David in the living room when she heard the loud screech of metal. Her eyes widened in amazement, with a twinge of worry as she witnessed the large sword escaping the sheath.

"David, what the fu-"

"Isn't it awesome babe?! Oh this is gonna be perfect for Comic-Con next month. And it was only $200! It's just like Mihawk's from One Piece, you know him right?" David beamed, his eyes just as wide as Sami's and equally as locked-in on the sword, though with an inversely proportional amount of amazement to worry.

"Dude, I put you onto that show," Sami rolled her eyes, dropping her tote bag on the kitchen chair and walking toward David with caution. "Is this real?" She eyed the sword's 4-foot length up and down, keeping her distance as she walked around her weapon-wielding boyfriend.

"Fuck yeah it is!" David whipped around to meet her, swinging the sword along with him.

"DAVID!" Sami recoiled, throwing her hands up in defense and taking a step back. "Put that shit back dude, you're drunk!"

"Sorry, sorry," David lowered the sword. "But isn't it cool though? And when your Perona wig comes in, we're gonna be so FIRE!"

Sami's annoyance dimmed as she smiled at her reckless but sincere boyfriend. "Yeah, it's gonna be sick. I need to see when that's gonna come in."

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Sami averted her eyes as she walked past Filling's. She hasn't stepped foot in the place since she was fired. One of a long list of things from her previous life that she's avoided like the plague since. Another being David himself.

"Sami?" A curious voice called after her.

She winced, as if the voice itself caused her pain. In a way, it did.

Sami sighed and slowly turned around. She couldn't pretend she didn't hear him, hearing her name stopped her in her tracks. "Hey Pauline," Sami replied.

"Oh shit girl that is you! Hi!" Pauline, Sami's old manager at Filling's, the one who had to deliver the verbal pink slip, chuckled as she walked up to the inconspicuous girl.

"Hey Pauline," Sami repeated, keeping her body language uninviting.

Pauline's smiled dropped and her gait slowed. "Hey, um, how are you?"

"I'm good," she replied tightly.

"That's good, yeah, that's good."

A few awkward seconds passed by.

"Look, I hope you know the whole firing thing wasn't per-"

"I know Pauline," Sami sighed. "We're cool. Things are just...different for me now."

Pauline looked at Sami with pity, and her rage reignited.

God, will you people stop fucking looking at me like that!

"Yeah girl, I know. I'm really sorry. We all are, seriously. We've been trying to get in contact-"

"I gotta go," Sami interrupted. "Got an appointment with a potential agent."

"Oh shit that's awesome!" Pauline exclaimed. "Well, don't let me keep you. Good luck girl!"

Sami whipped back around without a word and continued her walk to nowhere. She'd never been one to lie, but one white lie to get people off her back wouldn't hurt, or so she figured.

"Know you're always welcome to come by!" Pauline called after her. Sami responded by raising one hand in the air as she power walked away.

The pity was the worst. People used to look at her with awe, and now, pity. Even with strangers, she could tell they were wondering what the hell happened to her. It was like how Tyrion was supposed to look in the books.

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David was dancing to reggaeton song coming from the Alexa in the living room while Sami scrolled through her emails, looking for the tracking number to the final piece of her costume.

"Woah," David stumbled, tripping over himself with the sword still in one hand and a margarita in the other.

Sami looked up sternly, "David, seriously, put that thing away while you're drinking."

"You're being a party pooper Sam," he pouted.

"I don't care, I'm serious."

"I'm not even drunk, I'm excited. You ever heard of that Sami, ya ever heard of excitement?" He taunted, raising his margarita glass higher out of her reach when she grabbed for it.

"David! You're going to hurt yourself," she reached for the glass again with her right hand, keeping his sworded hand at bay with her left.

David stumbled backward as he tried to keep the glass away from her. "Alright, alright...but I wasn't even gonna hurt myself," he muttered, turning around to set the glass on the side table behind him.

Sami rolled her eyes and bent down to pick up the sheath, "Now put it away please," she asked sternly.

David sighed, turning back around to grab the sheath from Sami.

"I'm pretty sure you can't even bring that to Com- David!" Sami screeched, turning her head and shielding her face with her hands as the drunken man attempted a complicated maneuver to re-sheath his sword.

Where the sword was once below waist-level, it then rose up and twisted as David traced his wrist through the air in a swift figure-8 fashion before trying to point it downward into the opening of the sheath in one motion. What occurred, however, was far more bravado than aim, resulting an initial slice across Sami's face in the first half of the figure-8 motion before doubling back to strike through her hand in the second half of the motion, and eventually missing the sheath's opening, cutting through the flesh of David's own arm and piercing through the wooden floor.

Both partners dropped to the ground with a loud shriek. But Sami's shriek turned into a hollering moan as she tried to hold her now split left hand together with her right.

"Holy fuck, Sami!" David yelled as he pulled his eyes away from the bleeding on his own arm to look at his wounded girlfriend. "Sami, fuck, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Oh my god, oh my fu- oh my god Sami!"

"David!" She screamed, tears falling down her face. For some reason, the tears on her left were falling down twinged in red.

"I'm calling an ambulance," David said, staring at her in shock as he stumbled over himself crawling to his phone on the couch.

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Recounting the accident made her angry. The pitying looks and comments made her angry. Her own face made her angry. The rage was so comforting. It was warm, a byproduct of what she was convinced was her boiling blood. It woke up with her. It ate with her. It hated her appearance with her. It hated everyone else with her. The rage accompanied her through every moment of the day and she was thankful for it. It was better than the sadness. It motivated her to get out of bed and scooter around delivering food orders. The sadness didn't do shit for her and there was no peace she could find like everyone tried to suggest. What she found--or what found her--was rage.

Before she knew it, she found herself outside her old house. The cracked concrete steps leading up to the small one-story stared back at her. Damn, I've been walking that long? She wondered to herself. It was a 5 minute walk from the cafe she was at with her mom to Filling's, and 20 minutes from Filling's to her old place. How much time had she lost to rage? A hell of a lot less than she did to despair.

The front door opened, shocking Sami out of her stupor.

"Sam?" The all-too-familiar voice called out to her. It was David.

What the fuck are you doing here?

"I moved back in a few months ago," he replied hesitantly.

Shit, I said that out loud?

"Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing here," Sami hurriedly replied. She began to turn and keep walking when David jogged down the steps.

"Wait, Sam, please."

She stopped, gritting her teeth.

"I'm so fucking sorry dude I swear. I shouldn't have been drinking, I should've been more careful. Hell. I shouldn't have even bought the fucking thing!" David rattled out with exasperation.

"Yeah, you've said all that," Sami replied, keeping her gaze glued to the sidewalk below her.

"Yeah..." David shoved his hands in his pockets and scraped his heel against the sidewalk in an arc. "Ho-how've you been?"

Sami whipped around and glared at him. How have I been? She thought. Fucking awful. Fucking depressed. Fucking ANGRY!

She looked at the man she once loved as he sheepishly peered back. And then, suddenly, surprisingly, a wave of calm washed over her and she sighed. "Not great," she replied.

David nodded, averting his gaze from hers, and looking at the ground.

"Can I um, can I actually get some water?" She cleared her throat.

"Yeah, yeah! Of course, come in," David looked up in surprise and gestured her to go up the steps and enter the place.

Sami walked in with David following behind quickly. "Wow, looks....kinda the same," she uttered.

"Yeah, I didn't really take many liberties," he replied. "You can have a seat, I'll get you a water."

"Can I use the bathroom first?"

"Of course, it's back- well, you know," he said.

"Yeah, I know," Sami chuckled. She walked down the short hallway and turned to the left to enter the bathroom, avoiding the living room where the accident took place.

Sami closed the door behind her and looked at herself in the mirror, realizing she still had her sunglasses and hood on. Removing them, she looked at herself. She scanned the scar across her face and eyes welled with tears. He should look at me. He should see what he did to me...What the fuck am I even doing here? A thousand thoughts began to race through her mind and she figured she'd just leave. Exiting the bathroom, she attempted to make a beeline for the door.

"I got you a water," David stopped her in her tracks, sitting at the kitchen table with a glass in front of him.

Before Sami looked at him, her eyes instinctively shot toward the living room. She looked at the spot on the ground which was once covered in her blood before her eyes trailed upward and stopped, just below the TV, to see the sword framed underneath like a prized shotgun. No fucking way he kept that thing. The rage returned.

David must have caught her looking as he began to speak, but she cut him off. "Thanks," she said, peeling her eyes from the sword. She walked toward him, grabbing the cup of water and gulping it down.

"I can...I can get you another," David began to stand, staring at her with caution. Staring at her scar. Staring at his mistake.

"No it's cool, I can grab it," she replied quickly, turning around and walking toward the fridge before he could protest. She pulled the Brita from the refrigerator and set it down on the counter next to her glass.

The rage. Sami couldn't believe he'd kept the sword. What was all that shit about 'I'm so sorry, I should never have bought it'?! And of all the things to move back in here, that was one of them?! Gripping the counter, Sami's eyes darted toward her scarred left hand, and then to the knife next to the cutting board. He was cutting a PB&J in half. How normal. How fucking normal, everything's so fucking normal for him and I'm...I...I hate peanut butter. I hate peanut butter, I hate these scars, I hate him. I fucking hate you David.

"Sam, you goo-"

She felt a familiar warmth ooze down her wrist, just like it did when David cut her hand open and scarred her faced. They were staring at each other, both with a shocked expression. David's hand reached up to his neck where the knife sat.

"Oh my god," Sami gasped, removing her hand from the knife to cover her mouth. She stepped back and looked at her ex-boyfriend, still standing and in shock at what she'd done. Sami looked around in panic until her eyes met the sword again, as if it was drawing them to it. Look at me, the sword said, look at me and remember what I took from you.

Sami looked back at David, flush with shock and...anger. That fucking sword, and fucking.....you!

Sami lunged at the still shocked David and removed the knife from his neck, only to plunge it in again, this time through his right pectoral. And again, and again, and again.

Whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck am I doing?!

Every 'what the fuck' was another stab, following David's body down to the kitchen floor, stabbing, stabbing stabbing.

Whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck fuckyou fuckyou fuckyou fuckyou!

She kept going.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

Sami keeled over David's lifeless body in exhaustion, before lurching back upright and tossing the knife. His eyes were wide, still shocked from the initial stab, or maybe the 12th one? Was he even still alive then?

She looked at what she'd done. Her arms and thighs covered in blood as she straddled her ex-boyfriend who was riddled with gashes. A laugh erupted from her, as hysterical as her screams were 7 months ago. She grabbed her face and trailed her hands down to her jaw, gripping her neck and cascading them down her chest.

She stood up from David's corpse and drunkenly stumbled back to the bathroom, gazing at her bloody face. She felt beautiful, even more so than before the accident. The blessing, her mind corrected herself. Sami raised one bloody handprint to the mirror, and then another, leaning in to kiss her reflection like she used to every morning.

The rage had left her, all she felt now was peace. Ah, I finally found it, she thought to herself. Her eyes traced her scar, the river now flowing with blood. She was reborn. And she was beautiful.

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Thanks for reading!

October 3, 2024

#short story #my fic #fiction #horror #horror stories

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