I’m in filth

My go to has always been to distance myself from situations that I’m allergic to. This worked all the time because all I need to do is move myself and I have all the motivation to: with the allergy and all.

.. then there’s being an adult ..

Sometimes we grow by staying. By facing the dirt day in and day out. Maybe the stinky smell will be a gentle reminder of who I am and what I stand for.

There’s also the worry that if I sit long enough around dirt, I become one with it.

Wouldn’t that be the horror?

Smelling. Seeing. Hearing. Feeling. The filth.

I’d rather be surrounded by roses and their welcoming demeanour yet here I am. Life has called me here, in the midst of no flowers, only filth. Sometimes I watch and I truly believe it cannot get any filthier, and then it does and then I have a new problem: shock, disappointment, despair, hopelessness and maybe even anger.

Yet I know ..

There’s not much that can be done. I sit and watch. Because if I wasn’t here I’d be bothering roses asking them why filth exists? I’d be wanting them to tell me what it is, so I never have to smell it.

I guess part of growth is facing that which disgusts us the most.

The disgust invites it. We call it by giving it the time and energy to be disgusted. It comes in and damn does it over stay.

Thembeka