Itching. The push. The pull. Scratch,Scratch. Can I tell you how many responses I write to others that I don't send? How many scathing remarks I make? They sit in my inbox. Calling your name. I wrote about 9.11 but I couldn't post it. It didn't feel worthy.
The pull this week was too much. The litany of words running through my head. I will be 33 soon.11 days. Numbers that are double, I believe, portray luck. I hate sevens. I am sure there is a superstition somewhere in time. I remember wanting our babes born on even days. 12.18.12. 8.2.14. Like this small thing would direct their life's course. Pregnancy makes us crazy. Although I am just more than a tad on the cray side. I digress. That is not what this little post of my thoughts is about. My mind bounces. Like a train running off course. Twists, turns, with a hard right down the tunnel of light.
33. A double number begging for greatness. I recently read a book by Shonda Rhimes, the year of yes. I sat with her thoughts after finishing it. Do you do that? Take an extra minute a day to see what you actually thought? I appreciated her. She was in a place of holding an extra 40 pounds, of putting others first, of not living. A place we all happen on once in a while. Her response to this.... the year of yes. Yes to pushing out of her comfort zone. Of sitting on the floor in an award's dress and playing house. She said, if it's not a "HELL YES" then it is a NO. I think Rachel Hollis hit this one repeatedly in her two home runs of books.
This part struck a chord for me. "If it's not a hell yes-then it's a no." I am the chick that works to make you feel comfortable. I fill the silence. I have difficulty saying no. I stray from all confrontation. I am in the pits of motherhood. Seeping in it like Sun Tea. I am scrambling to make it all work. Now I have a short stent a few times a week of utter peace. Our babies are in school. Sending others minds over the edge. I thought I would rise in this peace but I am questioning it all. Am I enough? I see my husband and ,although hard, he is slaying. I am so fucking proud of him. This year I want to be proud of myself. I want to say NO. I have lots of dreams but they're just pipes. Small adventures. I want this year to be stepping up to the plate and hitting that home run. Out of the park. To make myself cheer. To sit at the alter of Lori McKenna lyrics. To RISE to be 33.
