Days of Stillness
I’m on the couch. There’s a full basket of unfolded laundry on the chair. Next to me, here, are blankets I used last night to sleep in front of the tv.
I can’t fold that laundry or load the dishwasher. I go up to my art room, look at my projects, and walk back out. I don’t make the bed. It’s one of those days of nothingness. Migraine nothingness. Fatigue that sleep doesn’t change. The days and days of pain catch up to me, sometimes. My arms feel like I’m carrying blocks of concrete, though I’m just sitting here.
Working through the emotions
This time, I don’t feel sad. I’m not angry and resentful. Not quite happy, either. I’m kinda numb. I appreciate the lovely spring breeze coming through the open window. I’m grateful to be able to open the curtains at this moment and enjoy the daylight, for once.
Sometimes these aimless days make me want to start drinking. Other times I can find great joy in the glorious open window. Often I’m tortured about how to spend this empty time. Or I’m so lonely that I need a new word for lonely.
Giving myself grace
This time, today, I’m letting it all go. If someone comes to the door I don’t care that there’s no place to sit. They can figure it out. The folding and dishes can wait until I’m stronger. I said, above, that I’m numb. However, I also feel a hint of peace. The peace that letting go can bring. Letting go of that struggle and allowing time to be what it is.
I love it when that happens. I hope some of you have moments of peace, today. Thanks, Kate 🌷
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