Like A Bump On the Head

I have my energy today. Moving, walking, dancing, stretching. When I get momentum like this, I milk it and ride it out in fear it will go away. I was doing. Obsessively. I started cleaning the bathroom and recharging the vacuum and wiping the floor. And then I picked my head up and slammed it on the corner of the cabinet. I sat on the kitchen floor and cried. The hit on the head stopped me. It just stopped my brain. My racing thoughts. My desperate need to be useful, to do, to have purpose, to earn my time at home. And all these tears came. And I recognized them immediately as grief. Just overwhelming grief about what’s happening. Thank God for that cabinet. It stopped me. Let me feel. Let it move through me. Because I’m carrying it. We all are. Ingesting and carrying grief. I know that was the discomfort I was feeling yesterday. The strange vibration under my skin that left me starring blankly out of windows. There is a great relief in stopping. I’ve never sat at the sink of my kitchen before. I saw a new angle of the neighbors house. I was grateful for the sharp pain. It made all real for a moment. I needed that.