I’m breaking down. I’m worn slick. I can’t take another minute. I’m fed up. The sun needs to come out now and stay out for more than 5 minutes. My vitamin D is lacking, and I am a shade of pale I have never been before.
The large long handle would be my choice today.
When I start to feel this way, my mind turns to blue. The color, not the emotion. So today I visited a place that always makes me happy – the LL Bean Boat & Tote page on their website. I seldom buy bags that I design, but I do enjoy the process and their blues make me very happy. I won’t be buying a bag anytime soon. Just knowing that I had so many blues to choose from calmed me down.
I have written about blue before. My previous musings can be found here.
I did not have the best day on Friday. Nothing bad happened directly to me. I just never caught my breath or reached my stride. I did not accomplish what I set out to do, and, by the time I got home, I was wiped out from too much discombobulation to my life that day. All visions of what my day was to have been when I started it were blurry and tattered. I was so emotionally tired that, for the first time in years, I had a “come apart”. (I picked this phrase up from my friend Karen Townsend years ago, and it just hit home as a great pairing of words.)
The incredible thing about my low point last evening was that, right before I let the tears fly at the kitchen table, I received a “just catching up with you” call from my best friend. She was making sure I had made it through the week and that all was well. Remarkably, however, within an hour of of drying my tears, I received two more calls from cherished women in my life who were also just making sure I was OK – one to ask me to lunch next week and the other to see about drinks yet that night. These women do not really know each other and definitely do not know each other’s phone numbers. Therefore, this wasn’t a planned circling of the wagons – this was some form of karmic, one-day-past-the-full-moon intervention.
Me, my mom & Casey
Earlier this past week, I was part of a circling of the wagons as my mother endured another breast cancer surgery. So really, in contrast to her week, I had very little to be tired of or fed-up about. I wasn’t still flushing anesthesia and pain killers out of my systems, and I wasn’t dealing with the loss of any body parts and their cancer cells. I think I was just done with that one day.
Now I’m better. Actually, I was better as soon as I stopped sobbing and wiped the tears with a dish towel. Once I released all my pent-up crap into the ether, I felt a great weight lift, and I moved right on through my night with my husband and son.
I’m thinking what I experienced was an alignment that was buffered delicately by three women who just knew something was wrong in the universe. They set out to make it right.
Cathy, Brigid and Missy, I’m all right now. Really.
