Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Eight
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Warmer than I’d like it to be.
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Intention: hammock after lunch.
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Still can’t focus.
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They’re back with the chainsaws. What more is there to remove?
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I plug in the Nespresso and think back to the day we opened up the box at the old house, a surprise gift from my sister-in-law. I am not so good at giving gifts. It feels like a talent that I have not been able to acquire.
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What is the source of the mental fog? The cumulative effects of all that is occurring around me? I need to take a break.
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I just want to see the ocean.
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I tell them that sometimes I wish I was still just a stay-at-home mom. Not just. Actually, yes. Just a stay-at-home mom. Because somehow, I haven’t been able to figure out how to shift everything to where it feels harmonious.
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She asks me what I think it is that’s helped me navigate, and it’s just all the years of my self-work, all the years of reading books and learning on my own, that gave me the tools to do this now.
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It’s like standing in the middle of a room full of plates spinning on tall thin rods and watching them all crash to the ground, one at a time.
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But I’m not a very patient person.