where wildly different is perfectly normal
Taking time
Taking time

Taking time

Sometimes you just need to some take time and hide, despite what is sitting in front of you demanding to be done. You need to do it because the alternative is hearing your blood pumping through your ears, or screaming to loosen the lump in your throat, or just running away.

Today I went and crashed in my bedroom with the door closed and the lights off, something I should probably do on a more regular basis.

There’s nothing particularly wrong, just an overwhelming sense of “I’m not doing it right,” or “I’m in over my head,” or “What the hell can I drop from my life to ease up on the crazy?” And there’s really nothing, because it’s all just in my head. Part of it is because the young creatures in the house direct every question and comment in their noggins to me and that after awhile that just wears me out. And part of it is because I haven’t been jazzed about anything in awhile, and I could use a little low-stress jazzy excitement.

This week I’m going to take more time. Tomorrow is out, as Tom and I have a concert, but the rest of the week I plan to find time every day to just unplug and lock the door and not exit unless a tree has fallen through the house. Squirrels running through my bedroom would certainly send me scurrying.

Taking time. Now that’s something to be jazzed about.

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