They say to meditate, to spend time alone, to stay in
tune with yourself. Can do. But there’s also such a thing as too much of all
that jazz. Too much thinking tends to screw up pretty much everything.
Nixon and I spent a week and a half alone with our
thoughts and three dogs, taking care of the canines while their owners were far
away somewhere warm. I watched the clock for Tyler to come home, to save me
from the quiet of a big house and no talking company.
I am so glad to be home and to have some relief from the thinking overload. To be clear, not all of the thoughts are detrimental,
really.
My baby is so much fun to watch. I love to watch him all
day long. I wish he didn’t wake that one time every night, though. Should I let him
cry? I want to re-decorate his room already, should I? And how?
My husband is working hard. I would move wherever he
needed to move to progress. I hope I don’t have to move far from my family
though. Where would I move? Will I ever work again?
Maybe I should plan out Tyler’s Birthday…
But always there are thoughts I shouldn’t think so much
about, shouldn’t worry as much about.
Am I a good mom? Second guess. Second guess. Second
guess.
Am I a good wife? Second guess. Third guess. Ninth guess.
I wish I could run. I wish it didn’t hurt. Will I ever
run far again? Will my body ever be well?
See what I mean? Thoughts can help, but too much thought
is bound to drive one crazy. I’m home safe, narrowly escaping that insanity,
and I’ve been more determined than ever before to be busy and not so ultra contemplative.
At this rate my house is going to be crafted ceiling to floor and spotless by
next Tuesday. Maybe I should work on a little balance between the two…
