Float Down The River

Yesterday I wrote, inside release you'll find ease. 


That was after an early morning weep-fest at the kitchen table while my patient husband listened, gently pointing out how hard I tend to be on myself, suggesting maybe I could shift my focus from struggle to enjoying the ride, however bumpy it may feel at times. 


Part of my tears were because I'd been up three times in the night feeling pukey. Not fun. But there was this creative rub, this what am I doing here again? rub, that bubbles up at least once a week for me. It makes me feel terribly messy, like a big crying tangled ball of yarn, but Michael says he wouldn't have me any other way. 


Really? 


Have you ever noticed that even when things are landing in your lap there's still a part of you drawn, like the proverbial moth to a flame, to the difficulties? 


Just wondering.


I felt hugely successful upon waking this morning because I'd made it through the night without barfing. This put a spring in my step that had been missing for the past few days. I got up, made Claire some oatmeal, saw the dusting of snow outside, put the kettle on for tea.


Using a different measuring stick for success and leveling out one's expectations eases the struggle thing. Another idea might be to just 


stop struggling and float down the river.