Just as I suspected, December has started in 5th gear and maintained this steady, exciting, and dangerous speed. Unfortunately, when things get fast, this musing lady simplifies her usually copious and rich thought-life. Instead of staying awake nights pondering my way through life, I am envisioning spreadsheet after spreadsheet of christmas gift ideas, christmas craft ideas, birthday gift ideas (mr. saint turns this month - as well as many others), menus, meal plans, family get-togethers, outfits for art-show openings...all of this on top of maintaining my regularly active social life AND my recently busy full-time job.
But there are many moments where my brain seeps through these cracks (gross), and I hear a wee voice ask me when I am going to get back to writing...to reading...to taking photographs...to blogging...to eye brow waxing. All of these things contribute greatly to the luxury of my soul, and I wonder how long I can possibly exist in such a neglectful state.
My heart begins to thrash around in my chest like a caged bird, my breathing stops remembering that it is an autonomic response. I suddenly cannot think of an outfit or manage to put together the simpliest of weekly menus. It is in this pre-nervous breakdown state that I speak from the mountain tops to myself:
"DO NOT PANIC."
And then I feel better.
Because there is THE ISSUE.
and then there's the PANIC (feeling/judgment) about THE ISSUE.
The later is ALWAYS, always worse.
I will write and read and get rid of wanton hairs again soon...and besides, I am very confident that it will take a hell of a lot more than one busy month to undo the tightly-knotted bow of self-care that I cinch around my waist. A hell of a lot more.
So we run around with our heads cut off like a dumb turkey. Kind of like the one I cooked this weekend...only it was much more dead than I am. We decided to make our own little Thanksgiving, so I cooked my first full meal. (DUDE, Mom...that is a lot of work). You can see how proud I am of myself here...getting that bird all hot and bothered up to 180degrees F.
Joel had to check my work. He approved.
(But he always does ;) )
Keep Calm, my souls.
What can get done, will get done.
What can't, wasn't supposed to.