Yesterday, I did it. I gave myself time to get into it to get ready for it, to write. Today, um…not so much. I woke up late because well it’s Sunday and it’s one of the few days of the week that I get to sleep in (which is true because I work from home) and because we got to add an hour. A crazy thing called daylight savings time. I’m sure it happens in other parts of the world for far greater reasons than it happens in the bustling metropolis that I call home. Perhaps, farmers need to wake up when the sun is barely breaking over the horizon. Perhaps for school children as they wait for buses in the early morning. Perhaps it is just to save a few cents on electric bills before the winter. Whatever the reason, I am grateful this weekend for an extra hour. An extra hour to make up for my horrible procrastination.
You might think that after a few years of avoidance of writing that everything would come out like a breach in a dam, but for whatever reason all that is coming out are emotions into every day life. The walls of the dam are still standing and creativity is only dripping but the water of pain and emotion has broken over the top of the wall, like twenty-foot breakers. Tumultuous and fear inducing. I’m standing in front of the cement wall watching the cracks and trying to hold it back, knowing that a storm is coming. I’ve dreaded this. This outpouring of emotion and this release of thoughts and feelings for years. The build up.
I spent the morning with the husband reading devotionals, a first for us in our new house. I broke. I know there is a plan for me, but it never is in the forefront of my mind. It’s that buzzing bee around my head that I run away from, hide from, swat at. There are certain things you see when you allow yourself to see them — and if you are me they are things that you ignore. Here’s to a week of looking at the signs and holding the wall up a bit longer — for a bit more sanity.