Sometimes when my life’s changing, I can’t wait to write about it. Words spill out of my fingers and onto the screen. I love that feeling—of sharing and expressing, of being witnessed and held. Writing helps me figure things out.
Then sometimes change comes that’s so big or so complicated or so incomprehensible that it takes all of my energy just to be in it, and even though I want to share my stories I feel like I can’t. Silence settles in. Stories go unshared. I waver between trying to force myself to push through and letting myself take the time I need (and usually I end up doing something in between where I don’t actually manage to blog, but I torture myself about it endlessly. That’s about as fun as it sounds.)
I’ve been charting a new path since I posted last month. Unforeseen circumstances led to some temporary (like, long-term temporary, not a week or two) full-time work at my old university, and in a matter of days my life shifted from stay-at-home mom and entrepreneur to full-time working mama. And ever since then I’ve been quiet—wanting to rest, wanting to blog, not able to commit to one or the other and basically feeling like crap about the whole thing.
More than anything, I’m filled with an overwhelming desire to rest, to be still, to allow myself to not-do things. Part of me says that this is a dangerous trap, that I will fall into the vortex of doing nothing and never climb out. Another, deeper part of me says that this need for stillness and rest and home makes perfect sense in the context of the immense changes that September brought.
This year is supposed to be all about shining and trusting in the Universe, and I feel like I’ve done a lot of both. But sometimes you need to tend to your light, replenish the fuel, adjust the settings. Sometimes trusting isn’t about leaping, it’s about giving yourself permission to be where you are and be gentle with yourself in that place. Trusting that, when you’re ready and not one moment sooner, you’ll shine out even more brightly than before.
Don’t worry, I’m not disappearing. I’m just glowing gently here in my corner of the world and seeing how things feel in this new life of mine.