I sat in the Trader Joe’s parking lot yesterday and crawled over the passenger seat for a kleenex to wipe my face of the tears that came fast and heavy. Tears ignited by a song that came on the radio that coincidentally had nothing to do with my reason for crying. But emotions were high enough yesterday that Jason Mraz crooning out that he wasn’t going to give up, sent me and my tears over the edge.
I’d been holding back the emotions – or stuffing them down to the tips of my toes would be a better description – for the last several days. I didn’t want to think about the source of them. I knew…but I didn’t want to think about it.
Last night I forced myself to sit down in the quiet and face them. To write down as best I could everything I’d been holing up. I settled myself in my green chair, with candle glowing in my sanctuary space.
Last night wasn’t about hiding away from my dogs and husband but dealing with myself. Giving myself room and silence to think, question, breathe.
We’re facing some decision that will require me to be healthy as a wife. It means me needing to take care of what I’m facing and dealing with so that when the rubber meets the road, I can be there to support my husband and our marriage.
My time was not entirely selfish. I’m learning that taking care of me means taking care of my marriage. They go hand in hand.