Feelings. As per usual.

It’s 11 p.m. and I can’t sleep. I should be tired. My alarm is set for 5 am. I should go to sleep. I will wake up tomorrow and drag myself out of bed and get to the cycling studio, one of the few sacred routines I’ve been clinging to in the past month. I need sleep. Instead, I close my eyes and my mind races, thoughts sprinting in circles like runners around a track.

Today was a stressful day. Chaotic, frenetic, strange. Moody, grey and wrought with feelings.

This morning, like the rest of the mornings this week, I awoke with heaviness and fog. It’s settling in my body, the familiarity to injustice I’m seeing in this world. It’s sticky and slow, this malaise of poisonous comfort I’m starting to feel when swiping through every headline and radio story. One atrocity after another. The danger of apathy is slowly approaching. The apathy approaches because I am not affected directly.

Rather, I am not affected directly, yet.

But I am still scared, and I am still feeling. The empathy, it is strong with this one.

I try not to let this atmosphere affect me. I go through my days numb to the insanity looming around me. Just another headline, just another Facebook post, just another phone call to a representative. I check the boxes off my checklist and I go through my workday. I get stressed about little things. I meet a friend to go climbing. I grab a drink with a coworker. I work on my coaching website. I call clients. I check my email. I cook. I sleep. I exercise. I function.

But in the dawn moments, the moments where I’m not quite awake but mostly aware, I feel.

I sit in my car, turn off the crackling radio, crank the seat back and stare across its familiar dashboard. I take a deep breath and I feel.

I feel sadness and heartbreak. Anger and shame and resentment. Loneliness, fear and hopelessness. I feel confusion and humanity. I feel teardrops down my cheeks. I feel the desire to hold someone, to help someone, to shelter and protect.

The sun creeps up over the hillside, breaking like a runny yoke between the whites of fog. It warms the landscape. For a second, everything is quiet, peaceful and warm. There is a moment of hope, a break in the grey. There is space here.

As this world changes, I want to feel it all. I want to feel the darkness and choose to operate in the light. We can’t be blind or numb to what’s going on. We can’t be outraged, then exhausted and let lazy acceptance creep in. We have to take the moments to connect deeply with what’s going on and move with intention. There’s too much at stake not to.


I don’t know if this post has much of a point, but I know that for the first time in awhile, I’ve been moved to write regularly. It feels good to feel that ache to put pen to paper (yes, I know, archaic and wonderful) or hear my fingers tip-tapping on the keyboard. Suddenly, I feel the need to write metaphors and onomatopoeia and pick the just right words. It is SO MUCH FUN. That is all.




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