Sitting with my mom as she died; supporting my sister as executor of Mom’s affairs; preparing to return to a professional form of work; preparing to go to England for the first time; stepping into a financial unknown; navigating the sudden rush of family, friends and strangers; gripping healthy practices while my routine shreds.
I feel the grit of my bipolarness scratching behind my eyes. It shoves my stomach up into my throat. I feel the veneer thinning. I’m exposed. Vulnerable.
This is the way of things. Seasons of strength followed by opportunities to use it. Seasons of building up and tearing down. Seasons that rise and fall like breath.
I am breathing me.
Jun 23, 2014 @ 08:48:19
You know what to do,Sandy. You will be fine. You know what they say, one day at a time, every journey begins with a single step, etc. etc. And my Mom used to say, “It will all come out in the wash”.
Jun 23, 2014 @ 17:59:11
Yes, and it will be all right in the end, so if it’s not all right, it’s not the end.
Jun 23, 2014 @ 09:49:52
Blessings to you, my friend. This is so beautifully written. I especially love, “Seasons that rise and fall like breath.” Keep breathing!
Hugs from Ecuador,
Kathy
Jun 23, 2014 @ 17:58:36
Thanks, Kathy.
Jun 23, 2014 @ 11:52:05
This brought tears…your words touch the soul, my friend.
Jun 23, 2014 @ 17:58:10
You are kind and open and lovely.
Jul 05, 2014 @ 10:54:18
You say what all of us feel… an emotional writing that reaches deep within and exposes the fragility of life.
Jul 05, 2014 @ 14:48:53
Thanks, honey. Are you catching up on your reading today?