I can’t walk out of my apartment today. Not even to my mailbox. It feels…terrifying. I feel imprisoned. And yet the walls are the only things holding me together.
I think of Hester, forever on the outside; doomed to permanent isolation for something that–were it not for the cruel hearts of men (inventors of sin)–would not be deemed evil. She, with her proud and indefatigable spirit, embroiders beauty out of her isolation and shame.
But Hester is not broken. She lives in a broken world. She is a heroine. I, on the other hand, am simply fragile. Blown over by the slightest breeze. I am my own judge, jury and jailer.
It is not for lack of effort. I carry my heavy heart and limbs into the kitchen. I carry them into the shower and into the bathroom. I show up to every appointment I have on my schedule. I remind myself to breath. I tend to the plants and the flowers. Even to the ones that are dying. I listen to everyone even if I have little to say in return. I am right here, doing my best. But today my best does not include a walk. Or a soul enriching piece of writing. Today my best is simply to…continue living.