So yesterday it happened. I was waiting for it...and it wasn't coming. I was a little nervous wondering WHY I hadn't had that freak-out moment and wondering when it was going to hit me like a rabid rhino.
Just an average afternoon it was morphing into...the girls were enjoying some lazy time, which I have gladly welcomed this last week of summer. Next week kicks off the beginning of non-stop movement. I have been strategically getting myself organized (slowly and figuratively)...putting my plan in order, if you will. Reading, responding and sending out my emails...
I totally got this!
Except.
Now I'm making decisions. Decisions. Decisions that people can be critical about and that I have to answer for. I can't just say whateeeever I want, then again, I just may...but I'll answer for it!
Holy responsibility batman. I'm not sure I'm mature enough for this???
And I feel it. My attention tunes out and my brain goes to white noise. My heart races and I start sweating, my arms go numb, I need air, but there is no air, I am going to hyperventilate. This is GO time.
And this is when an amazing thing happens. I just recognize. I recognize how little I am in this big-big world. And how 'most' every thing I do is a motion to make something better. I give so much of myself to service, volunteer work and I am passionate. And if people want to be critical...well then I might be angry and I will most likely cry; and then I will pull my big girls pants up and I will move on.
This is when I stop, close out my three email accounts. Shut the 17 calendars I have open and take a few deep breaths. I eat a pop tart (carbs - good.) I make myself some tea and I take some more deep breaths. And then, I decided the best thing for me to do in that moment was to channel that emotion and energy into sending some encouragement to a friend back home who is struggling with all that she's navigating on her plate. And perspective returns to me. I can breathe again.
And so I took my girls shopping. A little dysfunction keeps us healthy, I always say.
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