My continued pursuit of shine: I have chosen to see the future from different angles. Colors illuminate paths of possibility without number, and that which is fixed anchors each: my children, friends and loved ones, community and commune-ity, my faith and the love of God, the need to create and to live an extraordinary life.
February just past: the culmination of months of depression and stress gnawing at the heart of my beautiful everyday lead me first to prayer, then to a notebook, and then to a doctor.
In the prayer: Here I am. This is quiet. This is mine.
In the notebook: a list of the ways my body feels broken.
From the doctor: you are not sleeping enough. You have not slept enough in almost three years. You are overworking your heart, your stomach, your mind. A note. Take it to the therapist downstairs.
In the notebook that night: Plan A, Plan B, Plan C. They all begin with an edict: cut back at work. Sleep more. Finish school. Mamma more. Quiet thoughts more. Stress less.
She. Don't make a decision to fill a void.
Me. Voids must be filled. Even if temporarily or changeably. Close family fills a lot of voids.
She. Love you without location.
With the friend-boss:
Me. I need to leave a little. And then maybe leave more. But my segmented heart is half-rooted here. These people! This garden they grow! I don't know.
She. Leave a little. Get some rest. Tell me more and when. Your roots will transplant if you need them to, but I like them here. Finish school. We'll see.
With the therapist:
Me. It's really about seeing an end in sight when I need to see a beginning behind. And these high expectations.
She. You're very hard on yourself. An A- is a good grade. Many students have fewer children and fewer publication credits than you.
Me. But I am a butterfly. I don't have as much time. I have fears that drive me as much as hope.
She. Tell me about the men.
Tuesday just past: the first day I can feel it, this working less. Money is tighter, but after school, I come home. My children come home. That is new. We have almost five hours together before night falls. This has happened before, but as a fluke, not routine. It is calendared now! I let my sugarless-Lent end early and we eat cake to celebrate. We talk about August and the road trip, and I get a Go-Pro steal off Craigslist for the journey. We talk about hometowns, and wander-lust, roots and wings. The light changes, and Plan A calls out: Wait. It may be Burbank. It may be Missoula. It may be everywhere, in all the colors. Get some more rest but keep working hard. See how the light changes if you just hold on to this beautiful Tuesday, this beautiful everyday, and shine.