Taking the oars back from my chattering monkey brain, and directing where I want to go.
One second isn't a lot of time. But it's long enough to forget and let the feeling go, instead of holding onto it.
Is it selfish to turn national tragedies into self-reflection? I struggle with this. It seems both futile and self-aggrandizing.
What to do when that list of "shoulds" interferes with a sick day.
On realizing that I’m tired of looking backward, that it’s time to turn forward and cross the bridge in front of me.
For as much as I like to tell myself that I don’t care what other people think, that I have a fierce independent streak and stubbornness that I can take care of myself and need to be able to do what I want to do, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
But this isn’t a story about that trip. Or even my first months in San Francisco which turned into now six-and-a-half years here. This is a story about what that six-and-a-half-year-old me would have given to know what present me is up to.
[doldrums: plural noun] dol·drums | \ ˈdōl-drəmz 1: a spell of listlessness or despondency 2: a part of the ocean near the equator abounding in calms, squalls, and light shifting winds 3: a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or slump Erin: all of the above (except I am most definitely not near the equator)
Equating fear with progress instead of with THERE'S A TIGER RUNNNNNN!
Balancing the buzzing mind