Adrenal fatigue. A lingering bout of Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (or BPPV). I don’t recommend either condition, frankly. Turns out I can only stress this body so hard (physically or mentally). Before it just. Sinks. To the ground.
Lesson learned. Again.
But, this post is not about focusing on what is done and what is healing, slowly and steadily with fastidious self-care, nutrition, laughter, MODERATE exercise and REST.
This post is about blossoming. It is about hope. It is about the shift in light quality that means brighter, clearer days, earlier sunrises and later sunsets. It is about darkness giving way to the light, as it ALWAYS does.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
I returned home from spring break in Maine to flowering fruit trees and perennials waking from their winter slumber. I feel their energy seeping in from the ground up into my body, and that suffocating fog lifting from my brain and senses. I am eager to get my vegetable garden in, because after six months of fatigue, illness and allergies it feels good to be in the sun, hands covered in dirt.
This season, I make a shift in purpose: to (finally!) function at a moderate, enjoyable pace. And, when life presses in with the hectic or anxious (as it always does), I’m not beyond taking a healthy dose of Fuckitall.