sit with me and wax poetic about my insanity

sit down with me a moment.

and feel free to reassure me that i am not going crazy.

"what's happening?" you ask. "how are you feeling?"

and here's the part where i look at you and tell you that i really have no freakin' idea.


things are wonderful.
still.
but i'm also dealing with all these strange post-squam feelings.
feelings that vacillate between thinking my head might blow off from all the creativity,
where i go to the store and stock-pile supplies and come home and spend the day
creating things with myself and with the kids.
the house is a beautiful mess
of painted papers
and scraps
and baskets of supplies.
there are twinkling lights hanging up in my studio space
and i feel like the floodgates have opened wide
and everything is flowing and right.

but i also feel
overwhelmed
and shut off
like i need to hibernate
like maybe i dind't make enough connections
that maybe people didn't like me enough

all those nasty
g.r.e.m.l.i.n.s.
that andrea scher talked about
are rearing their ugly heads.

why now?

why after all that beauty and perfection?

maybe it's the shock of being back in my daily life,
where rountine is a big ugly beast.
i'm fighting it.
i'm trying to live more genuinely in the moment.

i keep thinking back
to penelope's class
where i gathered sticks
alone
and formed them into a simple circle
and the light was dappled
and shining through the branches up above
into the center of the circle
and i stood inside
and took a deep breath

and just was.