A swift kick in the pants

There is something so very grating and relieving [yes, quite at the same time] about someone shoving something into your face and then, after you've seen it, smacking you over the head with it. In my case, it was a few people from unexpected quarters. One was my sister, who never fails to listen to my tearful pathetic completely emotional breakdowns and then making me laugh about how pathetic my stupid emotional breakdown is, but only after she has expressed concern for my imgained situation and vowed to fix it herself. Who is the older sister? I forget more and more every day.
Then I watched a movie that I really REALLY wanted to see when it was in the theater, but I missed it, which really made me angry, as it was filmed in London the same time I was there. But, during my aforementioned pathetic and emotional breakdown, I bought it since it was just released. Last Chance Harvey. I watched it today and boy oh boy did I relate, in my own self-pitying way to Dustin Hoffman's character. But by the end of the movie, I found that I was quite a different character. I've always wanted to be Emma Thompson, and for the first time, I finally was. I saw myself in her in so many ways, and in all of the wrong ones. And I realized that my breakdown, which was brought on by NUMEROUS things, I'll have everyone know, was really just me forgetting that with all of the expectations and plans and worries and fears, I also have to live. I have forgotten to live.
Then there was the unexpected twist of hearing from some friends that literally would not let me be the pitiful excuse for a person I've tried to be. Bless you, friends, for slapping me with reason and belief and helping me to see the light again. What was the straw that broke the camel's back is now the layer of hay and bits covering the muddy patch that I step over on my way to other things.
And while I may have my pathetic breakdowns, as I surely will, I know that I will always have people to turn to who will buoy me up and help me to stand so that I can learn to walk again.
Now I have to go write to Emma Thompson, as I don't believe she follows this blog on a regular basis...