The pulse of cricket sounds stream in my open window along with the evening breeze and occasional noises of cars passing by. I’m sitting. After a long day at the end of a long week. A good week. An overly full week. Full with to-do’s and lots of feelings —
I can focus again now that my kids are back in school. I feel a hint of fall in the mornings and it beckons me out of doors as soon as I’m awake. My sprained foot is finally almost healed and I can dance again. I received a large order from a shop that’s selling my art. I’ve gotten a steady stream of new drawing commissions this month. I’m feeling light inside.
My 6th grader who hates school got an elective this semester that he’s thrilled about with a role model I’m thrilled about. My oldest son whistles a lot. My youngest asks me every day if there’s anything he can help with and tells me he loves me. I have good friends. I’m getting to know someone new and it feels special. I notice the fruit of the hard work I have put into grieving and processing abuse and divorce.
And also —
My grandpa moved into assisted living this week and I missed my chance to be with him one last time in his home. My friend was diagnosed with the same type of cancer her mother died from. My income isn’t sustainable yet and I’m hard up for cash. I notice how much deeper my trauma goes. I sometimes feel very insecure and inadequate. I message every day with a friend who’s chronically anxious and depressed. Our environment is unstable and seems to be headed for destruction. My kids tell me about worries they have about fires and animals going extinct, wars and school shootings, pandemics and divorce.
I inhale. Deeply. I exhale. Fully.
I am but one human. I mean to be the very best I can be. To recycle and get solar panels. To carpool and stick to a budget. To be kind and work hard. To stay alert and curious about the wide world and the people in my small one. And I think perhaps the most human thing I can try to keep doing is surrendering to being one.