Three Sundays ago, just before bed, I sat and made a list. It wasn’t a long list: just the few things I was going to commit to doing the next day; the few things that when accomplished would prevent the day from becoming another write off.
To explain: It’s been a really rough few months and I’m not sure now (or ever) is the time to discuss that stuff, but suffice to say there are days when just existing is about all I can manage. Other times it seems much better and I’ll carry out what I guess looks to others like a normal day, but to me they feel anything but normal. I’m lucky that just now someone’s got my back.
So, three Mondays ago I woke up at a reasonable time but made the big mistake of scrolling forward through the day before getting out of bed and I tell you, every single thing on that list looked like a climb up Everest. I didn’t move and actually, I couldn’t move, not really. I just lay there, and was still there at 5pm when I next saw another person. It’s taken me this long to write because of the shame.
If the darkest hour is before the dawn, my little ray of sunshine came in the shape of my niece who right out of the blue called me up to ask for help with her college work (English Lit). If I ever find a way of telling her what that did for me, I will. Right now there are no words that come close.