Tuesday, August 19, 2014


Today I had this underlying feeling. Like butterflies in my stomach, only bad ones. Not good. I'm lying, the feeling showed up last night and sort of percolated all night. I acknowledged the issues, that was apparent, at the very least. But still I didn't feel good. Didn't feel at ease.

Of course it is unwise to expect to always feel fine, to trip through life as though it is no challenge at all. But neither is it wise to allow the worry to permeate the day, suds-ing through and ensuring it is always there, just below the surface.

I had my trusty little notebook so I did something I used to do but hasn't been part of habit or consciousness, oh, I don't know, since I let everything go.

I wrote it out, the worry. I spelled it out in no uncertain terms, the worry and how I felt about it. And it was magic, it really was. It was like the very second I put it down on paper, on the white page with the faint blue lines, the power was gone.

I mean the issue still exists. But somehow I was able to frame it (perhaps reframe it?) and somehow that reframing took the power of the worry away. I was able to look at it, examine it, think it through. And it became ever so much more bearable. Manageable. Handle-able.

I'm glad I remembered to do this.

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