Been a crazy past couple’o’weeks getting all of my five back to school, with an additional three daycare kids and the couple of “sometimes” boys I walk home (next door) from the school bus.
I need my own feckin’ reality show.
Could be a gong show, now that I think about it. Huhn.
How much #gladitude have I required over the past couple of weeks?
Dude, I didn’t have time to pee…the hell makes you think I had time to…think?
Let’s take stock of the brain-drain resulting from the “sign over your firstborn” amount of first day paperwork. Then there’s the soul-sucking embarrassment of having to ask for the waiving of the school fees this year because the budget is SO overwhelmed by the return of all five kids who needed the “Everything” that anything extra we might have would be extra red hues on the balance line.
Just for shits’n’giggles.
My emotional well-being is of…existence. I don’t feel much of anything at all. Not a bad thing…but just that I feel neither “good” nor “bad.” I’ve simply been making myself aware of “Me.” without inserting myself into the “Everything” of everybody else. I like it. It’s more peaceful. It makes me appreciate people much more when I do see them.
#gladitude: I had the opportunity to visit a store today for some supplies required for an art commission. Conversation was struck with the employee, and I was able to talk about herbalism in my capacity as a Chartered Herbalist, alchemy, planetary astronomy and the Self, and things that were very much, “Me.” The opportunity was really rather a new kind of opportunity in that I didn’t teach. I didn’t teach my knowledge or spew my knowledge or even get ridiculously passionate about my knowledge. I just talked. I just spoke.
This really hit me on a level for which I’d previously been unprepared: I was content just to talk. Without fear of judgement. Without pain of defense. Without chest-puffery and sure as shit without one-upmanship. Maybe that’s why I’m really interested in how my anxiety and stress is directly proportionate to just how much of the “Everything” of everyone else I put myself into.
It felt. That’s it. It felt. I don’t even know the right word because it didn’t feel even close to any recognizable emotion I currently know about. Huhn.
I found this just right now in my perusal for an image of the awesomeness of the Cosmos (not the asshat one)…and it made me all rage-y on the inside…I think it has something to do with that not-quite-a-feeling-kind-of-feeling I had this morning:
Get this: You are one of *the* most special, most amazing thing to statistically even exist. Live like it.
Maybe it’s just that I’m finally wanting to be with someone a little more intimately that I’ve been previously.
Because my very existence is a feckin’ wonder of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.
Self-evolution, baby. \m/
Physically? Oh, lard tunderin’ jeezuz, it’s been a week. As in, spazzed up, hands contorted so bad I look like I’ve had a stroke, kind of week. A, husband-please-hold-my-soul kind of week. A wake-up-choking kind of week. A falling asleep at 7 p.m. kind of week.
I honestly didn’t even have the cognitive ability to scrounge up my own #gladitude until a conversation over scrapbooking papers this morning and seeing the Mr. Rage-y-naut image on the interwebz.
So, tell me then…what’s YOUR #gladitude? What small things did you take the time to notice that added a little “oomph” to your otherwise less-than-stellar goings on?
The taste of Bailey’s poured over ice cream is a totally acceptable answer.
Just sayin’. 😉