Holy fucking hell you guys. Remember when I was telling you how my soul was full of friends and laughter and memories from our USAO reunion just a few days ago?
Boy that went to hell in a handbasket, didn’t it?
I have emotional whiplash from the past 7 days.
I have so many words about the reunion…still. More quotes and lines from Blazing Saddles.
I have so many words about the election day itself. The pride and energy and emotion that I felt in casting my ballot. In watching the energy spread across my newsfeed. The connection and conversation and excitement.
I have so many words about Confidence Con, a new project that I am so grateful to be working on with a group of women who are mighty and fierce and focused.
I have so many words of pain. Of heartbreak…like…Schmobby Schmathaway level heartbreak ya’ll. This shit is real.
I have so many words about the past 48 hours.
I magically scheduled a free float therapy session for last night after work. That was the most insightful shit I’ve done in years.
Have you floated yet? Sensory Deprivation Therapy. Float Therapy. Goonie Goo Goo Awesome Therapy.
It was super weird, and at first I had to force myself to stay in the water because what the hell was I doing? But then things shifted. Maybe I went to sleep. I had a little floaty pillow and it felt so good. I started thinking about feeling my legs.
Couldn’t feel them.
I started thinking about feeling my arms.
The water is at body temperature. There is 900 lbs of epsom salt in the tub. It’s funky and awkward at first but then it began to be super awesome. My breathing was effortless. The rage and crap floated out of my head and thoughts of creativity, and art and future projects and peace and friends and travel filled my space.
I floated. I moved my joints and listened to my ankles crack in the water. I heard my heartbeat in a steady thump thump thump.
I think I fell asleep again. Or maybe I was super enlightened without being stoned. I dunno.
But after it was over, I was really sad to let anything else in. Any noise or talking or music or light. I wanted to stay in that safe, peaceful bubble.
I can’t wait to do it again.
Today I turned 46 years old.
I awoke to breakfast in bed and coffee.
I was taken to lunch by my amazing girls at work. I was gifted with perfectly chosen gifts. I have candles and junior mints galore.
Mark and I ate at a super delicious place for dinner tonight.
Yet the talk always turns to the ick. To the children who are calling brown kids names. To the grown humans who are painting the swastikas on walls.
OH. And in as many days I have had to reset my Apple password, my work sign on password and about three more.
I’m so sad and weary.
I told Mark tonight that I was thinking about writing and we talked about this space and how I hadn’t written much the past year. “But that blog post you wrote after Harvest Fest…Woah.” he said.
Funny that he brought it up.
Because I’ve been thinking about it too. More like thinking of the sermon I referenced in that post. The one about the loaves & fishes.
About when Jesus wanted to feed the multitudes and all he got was a measly fish and half ass loaf of stale bread.
Yet he gave thanks.
It wasn’t what he asked for. It wasn’t what he needed. It wasn’t what he wanted.
Yet he gave thanks.
And only then, did it become enough.
Only when he gave thanks for what he didn’t get, did it provide what was needed.
I’m trying ya’ll.
I’m trying really fucking hard to give thanks for what I didn’t ask for.
I’m trying really hard to not let fear win. To focus on what I can do with my life to make the world a better place. To focus on how I can lead a meaningful existence.
That’s what I started saying over and over last night in the floating pod thingy.
Thank you. breath in. Thank you. breath out. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Today I’m calling it a win.
I am grateful today for technology that allows my world to be full of balloon flying, love filled texts, phone calls that end with tearful love and emotion, great gobs of light, cat videos and corgi butts on a facebook page, and for Patron Saint Tina candles.
And that’s where I’ll leave it.
My little family and I are going to pack up the teardrop and go away from the things of man this weekend.
We’ll take some long walks. Build roaring fires. Have camp coffee.
Talk of the future.
And give thanks.