I wonder if I could be considered a successful adult. There are times when I’ve doubted the choices I’ve made and wonder if I’ve made the wrong choices. Did those choices I made along the way keep me from “success”?
I spend an exorbitant amount of time in my car. While in my car, I listen to music and I scroll my phone. I think. I plan. I snack. And I do a good amount of crying.
As an educator I get a week off mid-April to recharge and build up energy for the busy sprint to the finish line of the school year. Most years, pre-pandemic, I figuratively crawl into spring vacation, almost but not quite defeated by my school year. This year, however, took that exhausted “I need a break” feeling to a whole new level.
Pain, both physical and emotional, serves a purpose. Pain tells us that something is wrong. Pain reminds us to slow down and make better choices. Pain alerts us to toxicity so we can eliminate it. Pain helps us heal.
Self-care is a great option to be touted about by our nation’s leaders, our bosses, and anyone who has the attention of the internet because it puts the responsibility of taking care of ourselves right back on us. Thanks, World, for another item on my to do list.
My seasonal blues were lifted away the second I caught sight of the ocean. The raw desolate landscape was captivating. The air was crisp. And the winter ocean was simply magnificent.
Writing helps me organize the chaos inside my head. Writing helps me filter out the excess “noise” and hone in on the important stuff. When I write out my problems, I often write myself right into the solution.
So let me tell you a story about a girl who was told she couldn’t write…