Good Morning My Dear,
My to-do list feels overwhelming today. I'd very much like to just crawl back into bed with a book and lose myself for the weekend. Of course, being in this world, we tend to rack up obligations, and our time is often not our own. Someday, perhaps, I'll find myself with a vast stretch of time and nothing to do with it. Today is not that day. Nor is this weekend, or the weeks coming.
So here I sit, drinking too much coffee, doodling too many cats in the margins, and trying to find the motivation, energy, and desire to put one foot in front of the other.
How are you doing today? Are you practicing self-kindness? Are you taking time to breathe?
I'm not entirely sure what to say to you this morning.
What do you need to hear?
Do you need to hear that you're beautiful and precious to me? Do you want to hear that I love you? These things are right, and I say them gladly.
Perhaps you need permission today to burn your own to-do list. To run recklessly to the forest and sit there staring at the sky and the sublime beauty. Perhaps you need permission to stay in bed and read. Or to call in sick to work and go to an amusement park.
I give you all these permissions.
Perhaps, like me, your time today is not your own, and even my permission won't make it possible. If that's the case, I'll simply assure you that wanting those things is not lazy or selfish or wrong. Please, take ten minutes to just imagine yourself there, wherever there might be. Breathe in and out and try to claim some of the restorations it would afford you.
Perhaps you just need me to say that I forgive your perceived shortcomings. That indeed, I don't see them as shortcomings at all. Only your own, fallible, too harsh judgment holds that resentment, and it's time to put that weight down.
Whatever you need, I hope you find it. And if it's not here, I hope you know it's ok to ask for it.
I love you. Good luck today. I'll see you on Monday.
