So it took a while, but I've begun a new journey. I'm now officially a personal trainer AND a freelance Creative Director/Writer. I know, HUGE difference between them. Like ginormous. My kids think I'm a doctor. My parents think I'm physical therapist. My husband thinks I'm ... I'll leave that one blank. But I'm fairly settled in my new path. Not sure which direction I'm heading, but as always—I'll keep you posted.
The other night I was feeling really "writer like". I got one of those crazy urges to mentally purge. So I did. And I think a few of you out there might feel the same. So I thought I'd share. Enjoy!
MY MENTAL PURGE
Sometimes I walk the floors of my house late at night with all the lights off. The moonlight streams in and streetlight illuminates patches of the dark sky. I can see, feel and hear echoes of past years. Late nights up feeding babies. Long nights with feverish toddlers, preschoolers and grade schoolers. Sleepless nights when money wasn't coming in. And lonely nights when mistakes were mine alone to sort through in my head.
Tonight I started remembering back to my early adulthood days. Back then I never imagined life would be so day-to-day. I was hungry for a corporate career. Determined to climb ladders and leave my mark on the world. I imagined family to mean birthday parties and holiday dinners. Survival was no where in my visions. Yet as I walk the same floors tonight that I've walked for years...stepping on the same glowing floorboards...staring out at the same glistening sky... I find myself wondering when life became a game of survival. Is that when I transitioned from child to adult? The sacrifices I've made in the past decades are inconceivable to my younger self. And now days seem to pass with rapid fire. It feels as if I barrel through the hours holding my breath until that amazing moment arrives when it's time to collapse into bed once again. Regret is not a player. I feel fortunate for what I have. But as amazing as each moment is throughout the day, nothing feels as good as that moment when I can exhale again at night. When did it become like this?
I walk into my daughter's room. Watch her sleep. Listen to her breathe. Take a mental snapshot of her tangled in a sea of blankets, bears and puppies. Wander into my son's room. He's dreaming. I can see it in his face. I kiss his forehead and blow him wishes for sweeter visions than the past few nights. He smiles in his sleep. I walk quietly into my room. Our big picture windows welcome the moonlight in just enough that I can see my husband is finally sleeping peacefully. It's been weeks of thrashing, flipping and furious mumbling. Feels like someone suddenly turned off survival mode. Life seems to be settling down.
For now.
The other night I was feeling really "writer like". I got one of those crazy urges to mentally purge. So I did. And I think a few of you out there might feel the same. So I thought I'd share. Enjoy!
MY MENTAL PURGE
Sometimes I walk the floors of my house late at night with all the lights off. The moonlight streams in and streetlight illuminates patches of the dark sky. I can see, feel and hear echoes of past years. Late nights up feeding babies. Long nights with feverish toddlers, preschoolers and grade schoolers. Sleepless nights when money wasn't coming in. And lonely nights when mistakes were mine alone to sort through in my head.
Tonight I started remembering back to my early adulthood days. Back then I never imagined life would be so day-to-day. I was hungry for a corporate career. Determined to climb ladders and leave my mark on the world. I imagined family to mean birthday parties and holiday dinners. Survival was no where in my visions. Yet as I walk the same floors tonight that I've walked for years...stepping on the same glowing floorboards...staring out at the same glistening sky... I find myself wondering when life became a game of survival. Is that when I transitioned from child to adult? The sacrifices I've made in the past decades are inconceivable to my younger self. And now days seem to pass with rapid fire. It feels as if I barrel through the hours holding my breath until that amazing moment arrives when it's time to collapse into bed once again. Regret is not a player. I feel fortunate for what I have. But as amazing as each moment is throughout the day, nothing feels as good as that moment when I can exhale again at night. When did it become like this?
I walk into my daughter's room. Watch her sleep. Listen to her breathe. Take a mental snapshot of her tangled in a sea of blankets, bears and puppies. Wander into my son's room. He's dreaming. I can see it in his face. I kiss his forehead and blow him wishes for sweeter visions than the past few nights. He smiles in his sleep. I walk quietly into my room. Our big picture windows welcome the moonlight in just enough that I can see my husband is finally sleeping peacefully. It's been weeks of thrashing, flipping and furious mumbling. Feels like someone suddenly turned off survival mode. Life seems to be settling down.
For now.
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