I’m sitting here with my heart in my throat. It’s been there for days. I keep reminding myself to just breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
Life has been so stressful this past month. There have been doctor’s appointments every week. There were evaluations. There were people telling me what my children can and can’t do. There were IEP meetings. There were medical appointments. There was work-related training.
There were walls torn down. Things thrown away. Cleaning. Organizing. Spring.
There were flowers. There was a birthday party for all three of my sweet babies. There was another party for one of my cousins. There was sunshine and warmth. There were wonderful pictures taken.
There was sadness. There was a funeral for a friend, a woman my age who was due to have a child in June. There was bad news. There are still so many prayers being said. There is worry. Constant worry.
There is fear. Abject fear that grips you swiftly in the moments when you let your guard down. There have been tears. The kind that rattle your body and leave you gasping for air for hours after the tears have dried.
There have been moments of pure joy. Unadulterated happiness where I could get my head above water and breathe. Just breathe and smell the sweetness in the air and be thankful for that moment because I know in my heart I needed it.
There has been inspiration. There has been drive. There has been something shoving me, hard, through this month. It has been right behind me like a drill sergeant keeping me looking forward. Fate, but with a bullhorn.
Yet I sit here swallowing something. Holding back a flood of tears. Trying to stop the torrent from getting free because I’m afraid it’ll drown me. I want something to change. I want things to get easier for just a little while. All this hard stuff is too much hard stuff. I need something soft to land on for a short time. I need to pause and just get my bearings and feel a little less like life is swallowing me whole. I need a refresh button.
This weekend I’m doing exactly that. I’m going to pause. I’m going to take some pictures. I’m going to sort a few things out. I’m going to get a few pressing issues out of the way and I’m going to go do something fun. Something that is loud and fast and kinda scary and full of adrenaline and there will be lots of people there and I don’t even care. I’m going to cheer and yell and jump up and down and clasp my hands and wish hard.
Then the next day I’m going to go load things up, carry things around, settle some much needed decision-making, and then I’m going to carry those things home. Not just somewhere where they will sit ignored. They will come home and there will be no more questions.
And when it’s all said and done, on Sunday night, I’m going to fall into bed exhausted but relieved. Refreshed. And this lump that I keep trying to swallow, it’s going to be gone, dammit, because I’m banishing that lump from keeping my voice quiet. This weekend my soul will sing.
