I stepped in dog poop this morning.
My immediate thought was that it was a message. That someone – either in my house or God himself – put it there for me to step on. It was to say that my feet stink. That’s why my husband told my son to take a shower and specifically to wash his feet last night. Because this is what happens. He knows what I’m thinking and he’ll say things to mess with me. And, maybe he put the dog poop there.
So, I had to wash my feet in the tub.
Like the foot washing traditions. But with my own feet. Is it narcissism then? Or, is it being alone. Or is that God is inside me and giving me the gift of washing my own feet?
I ate a cheeseburger.
Now, it is all I can smell. I washed my hands, face, brushed my teeth and put lotion on. But it’s inside me – coming out through my pores. People can look at me and know that, yes, I stopped at Whataburger and had a cheeseburger for breakfast. I am a bad person. This is what bad people do. The drive through person knew it too. She just looked at me. She saw inside my head and knew that I was going to eat it.
And, now, everyone I’m around knows too. Everyone sees me as the person that ate the cheeseburger.
I want to vomit. Then, it will be gone. But, then I will feel empty. And, people will know that too.
I feel so lost and so disjointed and confused and like I’m falling into pieces. I feel like I’m going crazy. But, that’s good right? It’s good to feel it. It would be worse to not know, right?