I don’t take them home anymore.

I did, for years – someone else’s headache, heartache, intricate details of trauma, felt it held it deep in my guts, dragged myself through 3rd and 4th year of acupuncture school with only a hazy sense of how heavy I’d become. It took a long time to grow this membrane between me and the rest of the world.
But today is not one of the miracle cure days and it takes me by surprise how desperately I want it to be. Some reason to do with severe chronic physical pain in a single parent of young children has me sweating bullets, urgently scanning my notes Yes I think this is the right combination double triple check the points pray these bold little needles to unlock release let something go.
They will leave grateful for having had an entire hour of something resembling peace, and a fucking sliver of pain relief; “Thank you, you’ve been very kind.”
I will say Goodnight, See you again soon, lock the clinic door, weep like someone breaking over the sink as I wash teacups.

Because I don’t take them home anymore. But I might carry one around for an afternoon.

Author: Lisa B.

Lisa prefers fireflies to fireworks, reverts to bluntness in stressful moments, would happily wear legwarmers year-round, and probably wants to be your friend.