shrinking

by willeya

i’m trying to go to bed earlier but i find that i’m not sleepy earlier.  so i type away while ben is the good one, sleeping next to me.  i make a deal with myself to ease this guilt:

if i can say this fast, great. if my words twist like knotted yarn and i have to spend an hour straightening them out, then nope. just go to bed.

since i’ve started work, so many things have happened inside of me.  one is that i see myself in so many of these people. because of me my compassion for them is there and because of them i see me clearer.  vision, hope, grace – i give it because i need it so much.  and when i offer it to them, in a weird way i receive it too.  it’s a really neat circle to be caught up in.

so there’s that but there’s also this:  so much of the time i walk on this earth a giant, all other beings shuffling ants underneath me.  being a giant, i live in a house that feels too small but is all i know and i have a giant child [with giant problems of course].  and everyday we have to do giant things like make food and do laundry. i’m sick of being so big but the more i think, the bigger i get.   but listening to these people’s lives and for 45 minutes, making them my world, i find shrinks me down to size.  my gift to them is total attention and their gift to me is perspective.  my focus shifts to make room for them and by the end i am not the giant in the middle.  i am one of them, even off to the left.

one thing i am learning:  i have a bounty of thoughts and feelings that should not all be used on me [or mine] and life somehow gets easier – better – when i don’t.

tonight i got home from work and ben showed me a picture of atticus’ blanket in the toilet.  that thing needs to be washed so badly already and then ben washed it with my homemade shampoo and while he was doing that atticus threw his cup in the toilet too.

normally the house would close in a couple of inches and i would feel the toilet on his skin, in his mouth, in my hair, and wonder – poor poor baby – how he’ll ever sleep without it.  some nights it would be the giant last straw, but tonight i just throw my head back and laugh and laugh. i laugh until my belly hurts.

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