1. 3:55 am. I know I won't be able to fall asleep again. 

2. 4:25. 

3. The way the street is wet from last night's rains and the way the streetlights make the water glisten. 

4. There are spiders and slugs clinging to the window wells. I really need to get these covered.

5. Finally a frame for this image. All the dried eucalyptus in a vase beside it. Right here above the tub where the soft light will always hit it. This might become my new favorite spot.

6. Canceled plans mean a sense of ease about the day. It means more time to read and to write and do more laundry.

7. He sees me in bed. Even though he's smiling, I always feel judged. I justify it with having been up since before 4 am. But does it really matter what time I woke up? When you're tired, you're tired. It's taken me a long time to let myself be okay with resting. 

8. It's taken me a long time to enjoy the privilege of resting. The next iteration of my life and my work will be helping other women to find a rhythm of rest in their lives and work. Yes. I think that's going to be a thing.

9. When I write down the list of things to do it doesn't always seem so big. But the few things that are there are large. And they're exciting. And they're heavy. And. I'll just get to them when I get to them. 

10. I think back to the conversation. "What are you going to do with them?" (Them being my followers.) "Connect," I said. "This is a creative outlet," I said. Very little of what I do makes sense to those on the outside. Sometimes I care too much. I'm learning to care less and trust myself more.