Just finished with a long meeting. Head a bit muddled and blurred. Reading each line seven times to be sure I didn’t miss anything. Doing a little toggling of my medicine and always trying to balance what’s working and what isn’t. Anyway, today I will drink a lot of water, do a bit of work, get some sun and try to get enough protein. That will be enough.

This is the space where I put things when I don’t have enough time to untangle them fully. To that end, here’s the quote from Kelly Corrigan’s book Glitter and Glue. This is the quote that completely undid me this weekend; the quote I am still chewing on, observing from different angles as it brings me to tears and then awe and then shatters the box where my thoughts sit:

But now I see there’s no such thing as a woman, one woman. There are dozens inside every one of them. I probably should’ve figured this out sooner, but what child can see the women inside her mom, what with all that Motherness blocking out everything else?

 

Amazing how fast the tides can turn and how easy it is to swing from one end of a spectrum to another. Feeling so warm and cozy on one hand to cold and nauseous on the other. Like a mental kick in the head, the Feelings come. Where has the gratitude gone when I’m in a space like this? Is the love still there when the anger is as well? The human capacity for holding emotion is incredible; unquantifiable, really.

Outside, the lilacs are in their prime, and this morning I smelled jasmine that was otherworldly. The new mulch is made of cocoa shells and makes me think of a chocolate shop I went to once where the truffles were delicately painted in primary color hues. And yet, the sadness sits. I’m sure I’ve had a spring like this in the past. This is the only one that matters though.

We’ve turned a corner. It’s almost exhilarating. I fight the urge to talk too much. I walk a lot; pound the pavement; hit the dirt. It’s a day for noticing: church bells ringing at noon, the new feel of feet in sandals, slight ache in my neck. Today I’ll drink enough water, walk 10,000 steps, write something new.

Neck injury persists despite all of my longing to the contrary. The rainy day implies that it’s okay to lay low. I can feel that in these moments I’m lacking intention and my breathing becomes shallow. Hard to focus on purpose when my head feels so heavy; neck taut. Back to basics. 

Case of the Mondays. Dumb morning.

Flat white coffee making it 3% better. Elliot Smith radio on Pandora making it 2% worse. Maybe this is the best I can do for now.

 

I’m getting better at handling the anticipation that occurs before I jump into something I’ve never done before. I’m no longer:

1. assuming failure,
2. feeling like a fraud (mostly),
3. going blank,
4. rehearsing the dialogue.

Instead I’m:

1. researching,
2. maintaining curiosity,
3. reminding myself that others involved are human too,
4. asking myself, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

But also, I’m getting my workouts in and eating protein. Drinking just the right amount of coffee, wearing comfortable clothes, getting one good chore in before I launch (today I mopped the kitchen floor).

This is today’s status. It’s true that tomorrow I could once again be preparing for our eventual destitution – feeling those phantom rats gnaw on our toes as we sleep in boxes in the corners of tenement houses where the heat doesn’t work. But this is not tomorrow; I do not live in tomorrow; this is right now.

Leisurely morning with my boy. I’ll drink coffee in my flowing kimono robe that always makes me feel like a cross between luxury and grandma Dolores. I’ll ignore the weekend aftermath around me, catch up on Girls to the soundtrack of Sam playing superheroes.