write now

write now

Sometimes -- more often than I'd like to admit -- that old crazy-making feeling comes back. And I feel as though I must be crazy because there's no other explanation possible.

I must've done something wrong. I must've messed up somewhere. I wonder what I did to upset them? Hurt them? Cause them to treat me differently?

When I can't figure out the answers -- even when I ask -- then I'm left with that age-old sense that I must just be crazy. It's all in my head, I guess.

And now I'm forced to reconcile that with this whole "I am enough" thing. And I find it impossible to believe in my enoughness when I feel crazy.

Because crazy trumps everything, you know?

Or does it?

Even if I am crazy, am I not still enough?

Dang. That'll get me thinking...

This post feels like an infinity pool -- no clear end in sight. So all I can say is the same as always -- I have no answers. No conclusions. No cloud-lifting "a-ha!" moments. Just a wrestling and a commitment to stay in the tension rather than run from it.

Crazy or not, here I come.

{photo credit}

write now

Write now: I've got my pj's on and I'm laying on a new-to-me bed in Nashville... my first time back "down south" in about 11 weeks. (I think it's 11. It may actually be more.)

I'm watching the ceiling fan work it's circular magic and listening to the clackety-clack of my own (loud) typing.

My eyes are heavy; I'm pretty tired... My heart is heavy; she's pretty tired, too.

I'm feeling... I dunno... apprehensive? As though I'm holding my breath...

I'm contemplating my revolving door life: I hugged a friend goodbye tonight and hugged another hello. Bitter and sweet in so many ways.

I'm thinking about the dream-reel of my heart... and how it feels like it ran out of film a long time ago.

My stomach just growled really loudly. (Did you hear that?!) That means it's definitely bedtime. Before it becomes another meal time!

I'd love to hear about you-- write now.