Friday, July 19, 2013

The Nag, a Cinnamon Roll, and a Promise for More

The thought nags at me from the precipice of sleep and I know what I have to do. I open my eyes, resolved, and hurriedly lob winter covers to my husband's side of the bed. The lumps of down and white coverlet that engulf him are like a wall of clouds building up over my shoulder and they make it easier not to see him.

Without much consideration, I rise and dutifully set myself clumping down the hall past my sleeping preteen's room, the bathroom, and all the way to the living room where the sight of my three youngest children sitting on the couch watching cartoons provides the reality check I'm in need of:

Star Wars pajamas.
Netflix.
Requests for cereal.

Wait a minute! I'm a grown up now-- I'm not really going to be late for school.

But I had been SO convinced, people!

I had been marching myself to homeroom and you couldn't have told me otherwise. Had I continued, I'm sure that the next step in the progression would have been hair mousse and big bangs.

{Thank the hair gods, it never reached that point.}

In my fog, there was only one reality I was was actually aware of prior to seeing my littles manning their morning post; the overwhelming sense of obligation that had been tugging me along by the ear, me all, okay-fine-I'll-go. It was the only reason I'd been heading off to 'school' and it's been the story of my waking-life lately, too.

Since my trip to Jumping Tandem there's been little place for the type of margin I need, which means that a lot of what I have been saying yes to the past few months, I probably shouldn't be. I'm hoping the pace will slow down a little, soon, so I can separate my yeses from my noes.

I have been wanting to get back to this space. I am healthier when I don't let all my thoughts tangle up like a knot in the window blinds; Without the proper separation it gets so bad that after a while I'm not even sure where to start tugging. Last week I tried, twice, to get out of the house to write but could get neither my mind nor the computer to cooperate. Today I showed up at our little Looney Bean coffee shop, ice cup and writing ambitions in hand, sauntered up to the counter to order a cinnamon roll, and just as the cute barista and I were about to exchanged debit card for delicious sweets, the internet crashed!

I wanted to cry-laugh. I did get a free goody out of the deal, but seriously!?

Thankfully, it was up again just after I texted my husband to tell him that I was heading to the library. He told me that it really was just me and that I'm that kind of special.

So, now that I am here, I need to ask you a favor. Could you indulge me in a little brain dump?

{Though, I guess if you have gotten this far, you technically already are.}

I'm hoping I can get it out of my system and then be able to approach life and this writing thing a smidgen less like a sleep-walker.

Deal?

Have you ever heard of Seven Quick Takes? Yes? No? Then by all means, next time let me introduce you.

Back here on Saturday? I promise I'll be here if you will.


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