Today is kind of a purple day, a mix of frustrating red and melancholy blue. The sky has turned a dense grey. There is no wind dancing through the trees. It is eerily calm and in the distance, rumbling thunder. Birds chirp anxiously, waiting for the storm.
Life feels like that too sometimes. The days start blending together. We get into a repetitive rhythm of daily activities and before you know it, a few minutes dissolve into a few days. My perspective becomes dark and clouded. There is no energy dancing through my limbs. I carry around anxiousness, waiting for a storm that may or may not surface.
I am preparing to leave on a girls trip to Boston for the weekend. It takes days to get the house and family in order to run smoothly without me: meals, rides, laundry, schedules, etc. There is a twinge of guilt for leaving, and yet a selfish urgency to break free from the normal routine. I feel like I am constantly running out of time. I feel caught between anger and sadness. My emotions are unsure of what to believe. I go through the motions because that is what is expected of me. But then, the sky opens up, the rain comes and there is a calmness that seeps under my skin. Sometimes it erupts in fits of laughter, sometimes it sneaks out in private sobs. But however the storm represents itself, I am renewed.
A break is necessary to maintain my sanity. I will be me this weekend – not mom and not wife. And when I return, there will be sunshine again.