Those Weeks


You know those weeks where you just wish there was a do-over button?  Where you climb out of bed wondering how the next 16 hours are going to play out but have a gut feeling that you should probably just stay under the covers where it's safe?  I'm having one of those weeks.  And I'm pretty certain the only cure is a day or two (or three!) in bed, alone, with no sounds around me.  No email chimes, no questions thrown my way, no responsibilities.  I'll just hide there, nestled in the warmth.

My big sister had brain surgery this week.  It's fine, she's fine and hopefully now on the road to recovery.  But you know what sucks?  Seeing your big sister in pain.  Knowing that there is absolutely nothing you can do to help and that even making her laugh, your go-to tactic in all situations, would possibly make it hurt more.  But it's scary and it's been a rough few days spent worrying.

I've also spent the week worrying about this little business I'm creating.  Holl & Lane is my dream come to life but the amount of decisions I have to make each day feels often times overwhelming and suffocating.  I want to tell beautiful stories.  I want to spend my days designing the pages to tell these stories in the most beautiful ways.  But of course, that isn't what goes into a business.  Or at least, not the majority.

And that brings us to today where by 7:15 am I had actually shed a few tears.  As I walked Henry into daycare, he clung to my leg, he tried to climb up me, he gripped my arms so tightly and there was nothing I wanted more than to turn around and run back out the door and back to that bed I mentioned before.  I'd let Henry into the covers fort, it's okay.  But instead I walked him over to the bookshelf because books are always able to distract him.  I picked one up and for a moment he looked slightly less upset.  Until I asked him to take the book to Miss Nancy to read to him because I had to go bye-bye.  And that's when it started- the thing that very rarely happens when I drop him off.  The scrunched up face, the big fat tears, and the sobs.  And as I walked down the hall towards my car, I could hear him screaming for me, and I could see in my mind the last glimpse I had of him in Nancy's arms, twisting and trying to wiggle away from her to run back to me.

So I got into my car and I cried for a minute or two.  Because I wanted to be with Henry, and I wanted to be with my sister, and I wanted to be on my own and I wanted so many things in that moment that I knew I wouldn't have.  And life sometimes feels overwhelming and big and scary and the only solution is to hide under your covers.