I did something that I thought I would never be able to do as a child: I went home. My day at work was trying me; so I decided, without much thought, to use flex time and return to my family. ‘Home’ used to be a foreign concept. It was a place that so many of my friends called upon when times got rough. A place where “everything is going to be alright” brings comfort rather than contempt. It was a place that I was told I could create but for so long I lacked the main ingredient to bring it all together: love.
Today, I can say that I am overwhelmed with love even though it mainly originates from three people: my spouse, my sister, and my son and who can forget my loyal canine. My sister and husband have watched my life wilt and then finally fall apart as if nature intended for it to be so. They have watched the remaining parts struggle to embrace unforeseen changes but eventually stretch its tendrils out to sunlight, poised for survival. They have listened to my story in its rawest, most tender form and haven’t judged me.
My anxiety disorder is known to put me on the nearest train to Can’t-Take-It-AnymoreVille but these days I power through knowing that I have to practice patience with myself. I have to take all the love my three favorite people give me and multiply that times 100.
I know that when my brain and my heart speak in unison, I am at my best. I know when I prioritize one, (as if it can function without the other) I spiral. I lose sight of who I ‘ve been, who I am, and who I want to be.
I have a million career, personal, and family goals but what I desire most from this moment in my life is finding my pace. I need to spend more time enjoying the present and less time predicting outcomes to every situation. I need to see uncertainty as a space for discovery instead of worry. I want to remember that I can slow down and enjoy the view. One day I will do this naturally; until then, I am learning at my own pace.