MOVING TOO FAST

As I lay here trying to sleep, both my husband and my dog are alternating snoring. One sounds like a helicopter and the other sounds like a freight train. The ebb and flow of their noises sometimes lulls me to sleep. But tonight it washes over me like a thin blanket thats heavy on my body. 

It's heavy on my heart as well.

And I love it.

When we found out Roscoe was sick, we cried. Hard. Then we discussed his options with the vet. It didn't sound promising. We cried again and brought our buddy home.

I never have sleep issues but I have lately. My days seem to go too fast anymore and I am not sure I am accomplishing anything of value. Things just feel like they are moving way too fast. And yet, nothing seems to be happening. And everything is happening. Not like how my life used to be, pre March 16, 2020. Now my mind wanders at night. And the helicopter and train don't help tonight.

I feel grief walking up the back stairwell. I am not prepared for a house call. Not now.

Mentally, I am tired. I am so tired of practicing the art of holding it together. My diet is all wrong, my habits are, well, bad. I am drinking more water, so I have that going for me. And I have been healthy and my home and studio are solid foundations with years to serve my community left. But I am simply pooped. 

I have heard enough bad news this past year to last a lifetime. It's all just moving too damn fast.

And there in lies the rub. The joy of living. Of slowing down. The gods/universe/whatever have decided that slowing down is what I have not only needed, but what I asked for. I didn't ask to lose my practice and livelihood but I do remember asking for things to slow down. And they have, but they have also sped up in ways I wasn't prepared for.

Spending my days caring for a beautiful animal - because I can. I have the time. I have the space. I am not pressured to overextend myself because my wonderful husband secured us into being debt free and so our worries are actually few. But they are huge. Worries I hadn't thought would come for awhile yet. So, my days involve following my 90lb bad ass Pitt-Mastiff Roscoe around with a tissue box to wipe his slimy bloody nose like you would a 4yr old with a bad head cold. My gag reflexes are on high alert and it gets me every time I have to pull a long stringy mucous mess from his nose. I gag just thinking about it.

And yet, as hindsight will prove 2020, I would not have it any other way. I will run after him forever if I knew it would help him live happily just one more day. So, just for today, I will allow the hours to bleed into one another and night fall will come faster than I had hoped. I will allow myself to crawl onto the couch and snuggle a little longer than I am used to and massage his ears and paws until he falls asleep. For the gift of being here for him - and my husband (who btw absolutely adores this little guy) - to live our days together unrushed, with no plans has been a gift of gigantic proportions. 

And yet, the time rushes by and moves too fast. Or so it seems.

So I am off to the land of nod, the land with loud trains and circling helicopters. And I wouldn't want it any other way. Because my life has value. What I do, especially if it's slowing down, is of great value to me and my family.