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Dead Mouse Out, and Me Too

August 24, 2017

What self-discovery doesn’t come with a dead mouse?

I stood in her apartment, all we knew at that point was the mouse was not where she had left it before leaving for work that day. Were we looking for a live mouse? Or a fallen rodent brethren?

We soon found that answer with a “OH MY GOD IT’S UNDER THE BED!” and me, holding said bed up, screeching like a little bitch and booking it out of her room on her heals.

Ok, so a little discovery led to a dead mouse who needed removal. Princess face over there was useless, I knew this. I knew all along, dead or alive, I would have to face this. I would fix this.

I gathered my tools (dust pan and tongs), I strapped on armor (shiny silver oxfords), and I stepped into the room. I whispered to myself, it has a weight.


I knew leaning over, grasping it with tongs, it would have a weight. I would have to deal with that weight. Dead mouse as a concept? Scary, but nothing I wouldn’t offer up to handle. Dead mouse in her room under a bed very dead? It has a weight. I would have to deal with that weight. And that thought has stuck with me in the following days.

I have no problem being brave, I’ve felt like a warrior in a suburban kingdom my whole life. I could handle anything, step up to anything, fix anything. But it took years to realize one area I wasn’t brave at, and that was facing the weight of one huge truth for me. I knew who I was, but I let that reality stay a concept… I was too scared to feel the weight of it.

Those tongs long gone, nestled beside the resting place of a lil mouse who I tried to respect as much as possible as I continued to shriek “IT HAS A WEIGHT” from the belly of her room while she tried to pretend she wasn’t even in her apt, but the moment isn’t so easily disposable.

I recently made a huge decision that came with a lot of tears, a lot of questions, a lot of weight. Apparently, in trying to avoid that weighty truth for a loooong time, it came with more weight on top of it. I was working for this revelation. Cardio and strength training, balancing two worlds while trying to find my place in the new one.

But I found the chest to rest my weighted head and heart. I let the truth out, seemingly over a steady few years like a balloon with the tiniest of holes, and when I was ready- there she was. It wasn’t instant relief, she was the walking reminder that “i have a weight”, and my whole body fought against what I had pushed down for years (shout out to the 6 month eye twitch!).

Yesterday, today, tomorrow- I will continue to take those weights off, feel them in my hands, and discard what is not welcome. I owe it to myself to be myself, I owe it to her to be the best myself I can be.

The dead mouse is out, and so am I.

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