Down the Rabbit Hole

Blind Spots

Blog City
DAY 626 November 23, 2015
Prompt: It is said that everything outside our warm, safe circle is our blind spot. Have you sometimes thought that you were blind to what was in front of your eyes?

I have wanted to believe something so badly in the past that I convinced myself that I didn't see things....I think that might be the same thing. During the time my ex was supposed to be in recovery, I wanted to believe in his sobriety so much that I intentionally failed to see the signs that he was drinking, that he had never stopped. On that morning when I took him ER and the doctor took me aside and asked me how much he drank, I insisted that he had been sober for months. I vehemently defended his sobriety even as her eyes turned apologetic and sad. She stayed calm and very quietly informed me that he had spent the entire night throwing up blood, so much so that he had gone into shock. She proceeded to inform me that he had confessed to her that he had never stopped drinking and was in fear for his life. That conversation kicked off the next four years of hell and loss in my life and the worst part was, I think somewhere down deep inside me, I had known the truth. I just needed to badly for it not to be true. I needed so badly to believe he was getting better.



Blogging Circle of Friends
DAY 1103: November 23, 2015
Prompt: Use the following words in a story or a poem: brooch, yank, round, pizza, strike, wretched, computer, reprimand .

Elson stared at her computer screen. The empty white space glowed bright in the gloom of her darkened room. She felt wretched. Last night she had over indulged with too much wine, too much pizza and too much Liam...too much of all the things she loved that were bad for her. She had woke up hungover and late. Her brain felt fogged over and lethargic. It had taken an act of shear will to yank the blankets off this morning. The minutes before her column deadline were ticking away on her. She looked again at the round face of the desk clock. In an alarmingly few minutes that clock would strike noon and she would officially be late with her piece. Elson fought the urge to reprimand herself again. She began typing blindly, hoping to find a strand of something she could turn into a passable story on the use of social media. Elson's fingers absently strayed to the orange and teal brooch at her neck. Her grandmother was such a prolific journalist. Elson was certain her talented grandmother must never have fallen to her own weaknesses so often as she did.




** Image ID #1774840 Unavailable **