It was a tough day.
I was hot. I was cold.
I was running, running late and not getting enough done.
I was trying to organize tasks, placing them on my schedule “just so;” and I was watching them fall like raindrops, splattered onto the ground – not easily remade or picked up.
I tried to face my mountain-pile of work only to realize that I was making silly faces into the mirror like a child trying to make the time pass. So distracted. Trying to force action and then ignoring the dynamic possibilities as I made a new cup of coffee.
And then, I ship-shaped into gear, ready to tackle a very organized list of objectives to pass the afternoon – only to watch each objective delayed or worse – thwarted completely.
My initiative means nothing when calls do not connect or are dropped. Forward movement means nothing when you’re only going in circles; or when you have to backtrack the way you’ve come because there is no way out on the other side.
I fought so hard that I lost my appetite; and couldn’t go on until I had eaten.
I was overwhelmed by my own thoughts, my own messianic call to conquer the future – the challenge to rise above and plunge into the depths. The voices of the others – the people I love, the people with knowledge – drowned me and I was lost in the details of so many things gone wrong.
Time slipped from me – minutes lost. Hours gone. A day wasted.
I had a friend email me and I wasn’t able to read it until the day’s end. She was cheering me on, sending me positivity and encouragement for the actions that I’ve committed to by initiating a Kickstarter Campaign to fund the process of editing and publishing my 3rd book.
“It takes big brass ones to tackle a project like this,” she said.
I wanted to bask in the glory of the compliment, but I hadn’t earned such an indulgence today. Instead I said, “My ‘ones’ are not big or brassy, especially after a day like today. I am going to hide under my covers and hope that I am ready to handle tomorrow when it comes.”
It’s not often, but sometimes, that’s all I’ve got: just enough energy to crawl under the covers and count to ten – and hopefully, before I get to eleven, I will be “down for the count;” unconscious to the pain of another failed day and the fear that tomorrow will just add to the line of days who stand like the awkward kids waiting – and hoping – to be picked by the cool Captains adding to their kickball teams.
But this friend, a woman after my own heart, would hear none of it. She said, “Shine ’em up. You’ll need them tomorrow.”
And I can’t thank her enough for her supportive nature and her ability to urge me to face tomorrow with a courageous spirit.