I’m my own mental health guinea pig.
During an hour’s break at work, I stopped by Fred Meyer to fill up the gas tank. As the price steadily increased, I checked in with myself. Blah. Nothing much. Slightly sad. Then it registered, “Oh, I’m feeling depressed.”
Recalling an email I’d left open, a self-care newsletter, I followed its directions. Telling myself, “Something in me feels down. Hello there,” while placing a hand on my chest.
With the sole priority of providing care, I stood there, hand on heart, uncaring if anyone saw. And you know what? The sharp cliff edge softened.
Discovering self-care tools is my jam, especially ones that work!
Reading like racing thoughts, the book I’m writing jumps from one memory to the next, from 31 to 16 to 10 years old. It’s been challenging to do, and recently I got stuck. “Just write for 20 minutes,” Joey, my writing partner, told me last night.
So I did. Plus, another hour.
I’m listening in. Dave’s parents, our Georgia family, are here, discussing a frost from a couple of weeks ago that ruined their area’s peaches and blueberries. Which reminds me, I want to plant more fruit trees.
We have two Asian pear trees that are relatively sad and immature in their development. But I’m surprised when someone doesn’t know what an Asian pear is. Just know this. They are crisper than the crispest Fuji apple, juicier than the juiciest watermelon, and taste just like a pear. As you might guess, I love them!
Tomorrow morning is Easter “duck egg” coloring with the grandparents, a treat Evelyn’s been waiting all week to do.
Have a great night. Love, Jaclynn