i feel like yelling, running, shaking, sprinting. anything to get this frantic anxiety OUT of me, and off my chest. off my back. off of every part of me that is shrinking and suffocating.

i haven’t been doing a great job lately, of taking care of ME. we’re all getting fed. we’re all doing just fine – i’m sure james thinks everything is just awesome. nothing is “wrong” per se, but i’m splitting apart at the seams. even though i know what i NEED, i’m not finding or making the time to prioritize for myself. so what am i left with? a frantic, stressed, anxious self, constantly turning around to find myself surprised that things are HAPPENING TO ME. i hate it, this feeling of constant pull-the-rug-out-from-under-you-gotcha! sort of feeling. this is my life, right? i’m not trapped here, being pulled along by someone else. i am CHOOSING this, i WANT to be here. and while “here” may not be perfect… it’s mine. these are MY days and nights, and i’m losing them. they’re slipping through my fingers, and it’s time to stop.

mostly the feeling is out of control. i feel out of control of my body (the weight!), my schedule (all of the things!), my home (please dear god let me stop creating PILES), my thoughts. i’m scattered all the time. i can’t focus. i’m not happy. i’m spreading myself so thin that i can’t figure out where my heart is. where my head is. and i’m sapping everything good, and inviting in all of the bad. it’s too much. i can’t handle it.

and that might be the point. it IS too much. it’s huge. all of this life thing. and getting overwhelmed? maybe that’s my first line of defense. hey lady – something’s going on. we need to re-adjust. stop comparing ourselves to other people. stop giving a damn what other people think. because ultimately… this is our life.

our gorgeous, quiet mornings as we step downstairs in the cool air to head to work. the delicate fingers of pastel color streaking across the dawn sky. how cool is that? this sunrise will never happen again.

our delicious, fresh, whole food – nourishing our bodies as we grow and learn.

our secret mama-baby moments stolen away to play. giggling and chasing and exploring. i simply cannot get enough of the chubby hands clasping a new utensil, those incredible blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and the silly james-only quirks that i’m discovering.

throwing the plan to the wind. nope, we’re not going to do chores – we’re going to live these parent-only hours to the fullest. laughing and connecting with each other again, and reminding ourselves of the people we fell in love with… and who we are today.

why trap myself into thinking i have to live a certain way – that things have to be in a specific format? what works for “them” isn’t going to be what works for me. and maybe the hardest thing about this idea is that it comes with a certain understanding that hey – you might fail a time or two. wipe out in a spectacular fashion, trying to figure out YOUR PATH. and gosh, that’s intimidating. scary. putting yourself OUT THERE. but guess what’s the best thing? FINDING yourself. breaking free.

 and look at that. already the frantic-ness is dying down. i feel myself slowing. clearly there is more work to be done. 

but first 

a snack.


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