it's been two months since i gave myself the gift
of a year off.
and i couldn't be more grateful.
i also am slightly amused
at how wholeheartedly i fought and feared the days that lay ahead of me,
bare and unknown.
i am grateful for that important process though.
grateful that i gave voice to my inner conflicts.
i am learning to be gentler with myself,
reading back on old posts and journals and art work and seeing just how scared i was
reilizing just how brave we all really are.
this journey while unique to me,
is not mine alone.
we all have life choices to make and then walk out in faith and trust.
i actually can't quite comprehend how i managed the working, the illness, the parenting, the housekeeping, the gardening, the schooling, the day to day living, the friendships.
i can't comprehend it because i wasn't living it.
i was surviving.
there is nothing wrong with having the skills to survive.
we need them.
but i don't think everyday should be an exercise in survival.
everyday should be a celebration of living.
of being in the moment.
just this week i feel like i am coming up for air.
i felt enough energy to pull my house apart in an exhuberant spring cleaning party
(but i don't seem to have enough energy to put it back together..oops!)
i feel enough room in my heart and my head to have tea dates again.
face to face interactions, the exchanging of lives and ideas and dreams and heartbreaks.
enough room to allow others in again.
i even picked up my phone today and chatted for an hour.
an entire hour with a dear friend.
(for those of you who don't know me well, i have a "thing" about the phone)
i am constantly amazed at where my days go.
but so filled with gratitude that they are filled,
often with the curly-haired girl, or the husband who is my hero.
how did i fit work and school into these already full hours?
true, i spend time now baking and arting and reading
and i wasn't doing much of that by the end of last year.
and i do sometimes sleep in when i haven't slept the night before
but i am always up by 8...
which is late considering i was working by 615 back then.
it's as if a whole new world has opened up to me.
and it feels vaguely familiar
( i was a stay at home mom way way back in the day)
there are moments now to feel the delight of home cooked food,
the pleasure of watching bread rise,
trips to the library and magical walks at the beach.
there are long, uninterupted hours to invest in my children
and friends, and family and husband.
and i am grateful.
and i am aware of the sacrifices being made.
by owen. by myself.
those sacrifices serve to remind me to be grateful.
to count each day as a gift.
to allow myself the time to heal, to restore, to thrive.
and i do.
i feel like a little plant,
maybe a tiny snow drop
or a beloved pussy willow tree.
it feels like spring.