alter egos are a great way to create pseudo realities...
Rachel returned to the
arbor in the garden with a strong desire to assert her influence. She was
frustrated by her sense of inertness. The stumbling block to her moving forward
as always was taking a long time to shape itself in her mind. She sat concentrating
hard on the feeling that weighed her down. It was like a concrete block in her
upper abdomen, a rock pressing against her ribs and dragging her consciousness
toward her very core.
“Oh what?!” she
demanded of herself sharply. “Just finish pruning the poor bloody roses and get
on with the day.”
Addressing herself was
a common habit of Rachel’s. Since her peculiar detour from the sane,
self-contained woman she had been in her thirties, to the anxiety-driven and
panic-attacked train wreck of her mid-forties, she had allowed such indulgence.
She knew that she had
to get moving or the tightness that swelled within her intestines would give
way to cramps and gripping pain.
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