Catharsis

Some weeks are just seven days strung together. Others are a journey which just happen to be seven days long. Portia had just been on such a journey. One might even suggest that it was part of her quest for her personal Holy Grail. 

As it turned out that's exactly what it was. She hadn't known it at the time. It just seemed like a really bad week, frankly. And on Day Six, she pretty much spent the day crying or trying to hide her crying from others. She pondered and considered the reason for this intense sadness and tried on one explanation after another. None seemed to quite make up enough of a reason. At one point, it occurred to Portia that the sadness was really an accumulation of weariness. She carried so much in her soul. So much of her personal sadness and regret and pain that she tried to hide, or dress up as something else, or deal with on a philosophical-slash-spiritual level. 

But on Day Six, it all just oozed out from under the doors she'd bolted tight and everyone could see her sadness. Even her superficial efforts to cheer herself failed. There was no sushi so fresh and tender, or shoes so cute and on sale, or chocolate-covered strawberry so luscious that would lift the curtain of this- this- grief of hers.

Portia made it through her day, but not without being found out. Though she declined to explain which was quite easy, actually, because she had no explanation to offer. She climbed into her car which was a source of annoyance because it needed to be cleaned inside and out. The car's messiness only further agitated her. She slipped a new disc in the player and skipped through to a song that would contribute to her morose mood. 

When she arrived home, she stayed in the car for fifteen more minutes, listening to music with her eyes closed, crying.

At last she went inside, changed clothes, and quit trying to Not Feel. She let if sweep over her like the tide and once it did, the tide kept coming... wave after wave of sadness... wave after wave of Thing She Could Not Control... wave after wave of The Way Things Are... wave after churning wave washing through her psyche and soul ripping out the Everything is OK foundation which supported her Wall of Denial. 

Portia spoke with her lover about these things slowly. She was wary of trusting these things out in the open where they might be interpreted and judged. But as she did, Truth came upon her and a certain Calm... yet it would be another 24 hours before she began to understand what had happened to her that week. And it was just the beginning...