I wake up early. No sun yet. I remember the bones of the dream I had. My mom was there. Visitation? Her birthday is only a week away, so the veil is thin. I tell her it’s time for me to move out.
I want my Ripple half and half. Non-dairy. I get up to make the trek to Whole Foods, fifteen minutes away. It’s peaceful and the sun is moving higher. I love the peace of early morning Sundays. On the way, I think about the dream. What does it mean? I forget where I am on the road for a moment, and say to myself our relationship was very codependent. I am not phased by that truth. Moving out is a decision to be free.
I buy my Ripple, along with other items I did not intend to buy, but that’s the nature of food shopping. I debate about buying the New York Times. I am behind by at least a month of reading and I can save five dollars. I head to Starbucks to get the paper. It’s six dollars now. I can justify anything.
I watch Sunday Morning while eating breakfast. I especially love the artwork in between commercials and the Moments of Nature segment. I relish Sundays and despise the inevitable anxiety that comes with it being the day before Monday. I overthink how best to use my time, hovering between reading the paper all day and catching up on cleaning the house. The news is on now, and I am overwhelmed by the information but obsessed with it. I mute the television when I hear his voice. My son shows me the framed photographs he is submitting to the Art Show. I am blown away by their significance. We talk, and I see in my mind’s eye his work in the Schomburg, Studio Museum of Harlem, Time Magazine. I am sharing my perspectives on his work, its meaning, the layers. I make suggestions about reaching out to people in the magazine industry. I am determined to see his work in solo exhibition. I have yet to complete finishing touches on the work I am submitting to the show. I think more about promoting his work than my own.
I fold clothes. I know I have to change the sheets on my bed, mop the floors. One thing leads to another. I look at the time. I begin to count in my head how long before dinner. I begin to feel nervous that I am not doing all I can do. I feel the standard I have set up in my head weighing on me. I put sneakers on. Perhaps I can get treadmill time in too. Check off how good and compliant I am to my physical health.
I try to slow the thoughts in my head. I eat animal crackers. I tell myself to slow down and take one thing at a time. I convince myself that I will be okay if everything does not get done. I think about all of the beautiful sisters who have blog posts on Self-Care Sundays, and I wonder what they are doing right now. For a moment, I envy them. I have not engaged with social media yet today.
I open the windows to let fresh air in. It is mild for the end of January, and it feels like early spring. I love that feeling. New beginnings. I do standing pushups on the doorway and at the kitchen sink. They count too. Another check.
I take a break from mopping. I listen to the background noise of news. Take out my sketch pad, pencils and waterbrush. The pad is small enough for me to feel accomplished. I am in love with my Stabilo All pencil and its ability to create beautiful shadows when activated with water. Black and white artwork is so healing. No real decisions to make. No plan. No colors to choose. Just create.
I feel relief after sketching and note that time has passed quite quickly. Creating is like that. I notice that I am more relaxed even though it is now later. I have more energy. Time to cook.
Chopping vegetables feels good to me. I rarely choose words for the new year. To choose nourishment is important. Nourishment is a noun and a verb. There is an action that has to happen to realize what needs to be nourished and how to manifest it. I choose to be dairy free because I had a feeling it was creating my joint pain. It was a good move. I am eating more greens. I know how it feels in my body to eat them and I want more of that. I make a ton of kale and mixed vegetables for the week. Nourishment takes many forms.
I note that I am a little tired now. I don’t remember where I put my phone. Good thing.
I decide to take to the mat to stretch tonight. Tightness is setting in, and my hips are asking for loving attention. I want to read tonight. Hunger by Roxane Gay is mind-altering in its bare truths. I feel like she is talking to me.
I may visit my phone before bed. I am addicted but this has been a good day without the noise and false comparisons. It’s been a good day.