Maybe you’ll follow that little slice of sunshine into the writing world. You felt it just now, like a tiny little doorway into happiness, glimpsed only for a millisecond through the branches of the tree you stare at when you write, a door that only opens if you sit down and do the work.
Maybe your bad mood yesterday was truly because you were pre-menstrual. Maybe it’s okay that your daughter said, “Let’s not have a bad afternoon,” when your mood started to dip. Maybe that means she feels free to speak her mind, not that she gets scared when you’re grumpy.
Maybe you deserve a nap. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t appreciate how good you have it, how lucky you are that you can write at home while your kids are at school and your husband is at work.
Maybe that voice is mean to you.
Maybe you need to remember that whole bit about the grooves in your brain, about how your thoughts are not to be trusted, especially the crappy ones.
Maybe you need to work on that essay today. You have one week to finish it. Six days, actually. Maybe you’re avoiding it because it’s daunting and you know it could be good, but you want to make it great, and you always stop just short of great.
Maybe you need to pay attention to the fact that all the rooms in the house are beautiful and well decorated except your bedroom.
Maybe you need to appreciate that your husband stayed home an extra twenty minutes this morning just to talk to you, because it’d been a long time.
Maybe it’s time for some chocolate. A candle. Some incense. Flowers. Creamy mints that melt in your mouth.
Maybe it’s time for super comfortable pajamas that kiss your skin.
Maybe it’s time for a great movie that makes you cry those big crocodile tears you love.
Maybe it’s time for a deep belly laugh with the friends you really trust. Maybe it’s time for your friends to know how much you adore them, because you do.
Maybe it’s time to relax. All of us. Everyone. Everywhere. Sit down. Have a quiet minute. Maybe that will help.