decison made: massage.

I went for the massage.

In attempt to not repeat going into another Monday feeling life-less and drained, I chose some self care. As wise women have told me, self care is not selfish. Self care is of the utmost importance. And if all else fails there’s the ol’ standby: if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Mr. K likes to toss that one around now and then.

Lying there, with the sound of water (ok – it was just one of those wall hung water fountains – but close enough), my thoughts were swirling. I was tempted to escape with chit-chat, (cause I can really kill an hour that way!) but rather decide to remain silent and maybe just take a peek at all that is right now.

My brain basically runs amuck – how could I do things different? maybe I could try…if somehow this changed, I should mention that to Mr. K, I should try some calming exercises for Mr. C, The Teen is home next week, would be fun to take her out for dinner after I get her from the airport, shoot – Mr. K plays hockey that night. Oh – and I missed Dboys school registration night – can’t believe I forgot that!! I need to call to set up an appointment. More energy would really help – I am so tired of being tired. I think I am really tired. Exercise, how could I fit that in? I think that would feel good. Oh yea, I had that dream I was working out; that probably meant something. Would yoga fit into the budget? Oh, we really need to sit down and have a money talk… speaking of money I am spending money on this massage! Oh, crap.

Alright, what if I just tackle this with the force of just breathing. Something my body can do. Something for my brain to focus on. Here I go. One. In. Out. Two. Three. If I keep this pace up I am going to hyperventilate.

Breath slower. Slow it down girl. Focus on your body.

Alright Emily. There is this other piece that you value. You know Him. He knows you. Yes. I slowly breath in trust with the thought of my great big God. He is enough. He is.

Trusting. Even if just during this very breath.

In reality out this precious hour of lying there, I’m not gonna lie to you, the wresting, squirming, and worry, (and the trying not to wrestle, squirm and worry) may have stolen up more minutes compared to the moments of rest. But it seemed like even those small experience of peace have a value that can’t be contained by a span of time alone. It seemed to provide something with actual substance. Whether or not that was actually enough to hang onto, when the 60 minutes was over, I got up trusting that to be so.

ocean-side photo by Steve Eggleston