I like showering first thing in the morning. When I can and it's not a hat-and-run kinda day. It wake me up. Soothes my soar bones. Gives me a quiet place to think. It's the only time of day I can go into the bathroom without a child following me because they too, are avoiding the have-tos of the day and fear I'll send them with their marching orders if they come to chat that early.
My head gurgles with all the things I shut off with nighttime tylonal the night before. What I need to accomplish. The issues I'm trying to form an opinion on. ALL the things I wish I were doing better. I often think, I need to write this out. If I could just get it "onto paper", I think I could sort through it, figure it out, or confess in hopes of encouraging another weary friend.
But alas, I get out of the shower and rush to the next thing, and the next, and the next. When rest time comes, for that brief 30 minutes when everyone is finally settled, my brain is worn thin and the last thing it wants to do is mull things over. So I sit, thumbing through Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, etc. Filling my brain with more things to decompress. All the while this gift, this tiny space on the www, sits empty and my brain full.
Then there's the fear of sharing other people's stories alongside mine. The stories they haven't released the rights to. Balancing the tight-line of oozing my life into words while not oversharing the parts of other's lives that happen to be intertwined with mine. Squeezing out my momentary thoughts on things as they're being formed- based on my experiences, my encounters, my assumption of what's going on in other lives, my observations and accusations of intentions and motives-that's a scary thing to steward. It's a dangerous line. Often swaying and in need of correction on my part. I always stand in awe of other writers who are gutsy to share without fear of judgement or better yet, those who are wise enough to walk that like with grace and discretion.
I'm learning to honor my need for expression while also honoring those who's relationship seasons come, go, grow, and shrink.
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