For the past week or so I've been waking up earlier than I need to. The sun hasn't come up yet. Aside from the garbage truck outside the streets are remarkably quiet. I could still be in bed, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets, my hot water bottle holding on to its last bit or warmth keeping my toes from freezing.
At 7 it'll get crazy. Kids need to get to school. Lunches has to be made. The dog needs to be walked. Things will be missing. People will be cranky, especially on a Monday morning. This calm will disappear like a balloon floating silently away against the blue sky until it'll be hard to remember if it was real or I imagined it.
Back to my point . . .
I'm waking up early to write. I don't plan this. No alarms are set. I'd really rather be in my cozy bed. But it's time. I've been shut down for so long. Too long. I've been grappling with life changing issues and situations. I shut myself in a box and for all this time that was ok.
I've learned that I can survive without being lost I'm a project. How to be me instead of what I'm working on. That I can handle extraordinary stress and still be relatively ok.
That I can take care of myself and that often means with compassion and kindness. I've never been very good at giving myself a break. Guilt and berating were the two usual standbys.
I'm learning. I'm growing.
And I'm writing again. Before the sun comes up. Before thoughts are fully formed. Before the day gets away from me and excuses take over.
And now I have 20 more minutes to hop back in bed before the insanity starts.