about one time a year I get what I’ve called into “realist mode”.
I guess others might call it the blues because it’s not a full on depression, but about this time in most Januaries that I remember I’ve felt this way. Perhaps it’s a post-holiday season let down, the anticipation gone and the coldest month of the year in hand, but here I’m sitting again, trying to logically strip away my feelings with, “well, it’s stupid to feel *that way*…” to the occasional avail.
You see, I’ve started so many posts and discarded them, like a crushed up piece of paper, murmuring, NO, it’s not right. My writing self is tormented. I feel a emotional sneeze deep inside that only writing can get out but even as I look at the sun, blinking eyes rapid fire, I can’t get it out and I feel the almost physical pain of it.
This morning as I left for work I walked out in a hurry, late running into the brightness and the coldness of a new day. Car keys in a hand, coffee mug in the other, I threw shoulders back cracking my neck side to side mentally ticking off my list. something caught my eye, a glimmer and glitter and even in the blue sky above, a few surprising clouds were snowing out, almost a breath. I slowed as the air around me twinkled, breathed as my heavy bag slipped of my shoulder onto my wrist, caught.
Breath. Breathe.
the coldness filled my lunge deep.
I sit tonight, amongst the swirl of life and realize I’m just in the eddy of a stream, a small twirl only.
I’ll be back soon, but I’m life living good and feel the rightness of it all. I’m hugging my boys, laughing with Ben and cooking things I’ve never attempted before because, for the first time in my life, I have the confidence that I can actually make them. I have all the knowledge and it’s ok if I mess up some, because I’m still going the right direction.
OK, irony of cheesiness. I just sneezed. For reals.
I love my life.
