I find myself in the middle of a certain season, and looking back, I can’t place exactly when the wind starting blowing.
I know that I had a good stretch of nothing- nothing went wrong. Weekends were spent doing nothing. Nothing really to worry about.
But my anxious mind can’t let good be good enough. I can’t just enjoy the peace and quiet. Surely, a long good stretch would be followed by a snap back in the wrong direction. It usually does.
So, I began to panic about what maybe I was missing, what maybe could be coming to disrupt this peace, what upheaval would stop the nothing. So I felt a sadness coming. One I could not shake, one I tried to make. I accused every shadow of following me.
Now, I know it was not something I was missing; it was everything I was missing, and my intuition, bracing me for what was coming, like she always does.