In my head, there is a mile long list of things that have to get done by the end of August.
I have been making a baby for nearly 8 months. Having done this before and being intentionally more informed this go round, I know the toll it takes on my body, and still… I am clawing to justify existing in a mental space that doesn’t align with my physical circumstance.
My body is saying rest.
My baby is telling me it’s time to slow down.
And still… I’m setting unrealistic expectations for myself. And experiencing frustration when things take longer than expected. And adding more plans to the plans. And pushing back on my husband when he encourages me to acknowledge this sabotage.
It is an eery thing. To recognize the ways you are moving counter intuitively all the while feeling beyond your own control. Because there are things that must get done. And you must be the one to do them.
Because if I’m not the one to do them, then when will things get done?
And then the Earth does its gravity thing and demands that you sit down. It beckons you with an unruly front yard and weeds that are as out of order as you’ve been.
So, you take root. You remove your shoes and place your feet in the soil.
You grab a stool, and begin placing your palms in the dirt, as well. No sooner than you begin compiling Earth beneath your finger nails, the stool presents itself as a a barrier - and now you’re seated directly on the ground, instead. You are grounding. Finally.
And there is only right now. And the decluttering of chaotic spaces. And the comfort you feel in being able to see progress made in real time… while still being rooted. And restful. And the sun literally begins to shine on what was just a cloudy day.