The past couple of weeks I didn’t write. Okay, that is not completely true. I would sit down and type out a few sentences then I would abandon the computer full of self-doubt and find my way back to one of the three books I am reading. I find myself back at it, not with any less doubt and with the reminder that my reason for writing is that I enjoy it. Yes, I am happy when someone gives a like or a positive comment; I am human. Remembering that I write because it gives me joy is essential.

During my brief slump, one of the thoughts that kept going around in my head was that I was shallow. I needed to be thinking about more important things. I needed to provide a better analysis of all the world is presenting in these fraught times. My self-judgement was intense. How could I speak in a way that would transcend my limited experience? The answer is that I cannot. The acceptance of my limitations is a relief and humbling. Once again that pesky reminder of being a human catches me by surprise. It does not mean that I have given up. It does not mean that I am satisfied with my personal status quo.

I am a realistic optimist. I will keep showing up. Sometimes, I wish that I could show up differently, this most recent Mother’s Day for example. I am a daughter and a mother. I am not proud of how I showed up in either capacity for Sunday’s festivities. The Monday after spending the evening feeling horrible about how I behaved , I used my own journal, Spaghetti on the Wall to unravel the knot of feelings, judgements, guilt, and anger. I realized that I did not want to be at the Mother’s Day lunch I helped to plan. With the clarity that only hindsight can offer, I wish I had dropped off the food and feigned an illness.

Without going into the boring details, I was overwhelmed by the expectations associated with Mother’s Day. Celebrating the family, the matriarchal lineage in all its wisdom, strength, and virtue felt false. My heart was heavy with the events of the past few weeks, or so I thought. The source of the heaviness was in my head, my thinking and overthinking. My heart had nothing to do with my feelings, judgments, or worries. My heart is a bit bruised and battered both by current events and past experiences. However when I remember to give my head the day off and pay a visit to my heart, there is hope, kindness, and compassion. And peace.