all farewells are sudden

Not once today did I feel rushed. For a moment, a panic attack teased my heart - those have been happening a lot since the bat got into my house - but I managed it. I took a few deep breaths and called wildly for my cats and realized that, at 10 am, there was no bat. And if there was a bat, I said, you'll take care of it. It worked. I calmed myself - a morning lake. But that was the only moment I felt anything outside of the parameters of good.

Moving slowly is purposeful. I meant to say "powerful" - but I'm going to keep purposeful. I might start doing it at work. Everyone expects us to hustle around, cloud up dust around our feet and beckon to every call. I'm going to have to quit that. And quit it soon. I'm honestly and fearfully at the edge of my current status. Which is to say, I need to stop this anxiety, I need to stop this rehashing every word to make sure no one is upset with me, I need to just stop. I need to calm, I need to be a morning lake. I need to wade like the Great Blue Heron. I need to saunter and smoothly glide. But beyond all this need, let's just say I want to. I want to do these things.

I'm mostly scared to not carry about pounds of stress and fear. I don't know who I'd be without it. I'm certain, though, in my most optimistic moments, that the Erica without all broken bones mended by negativity would be the best version of myself. So, let me start with that. Let me start with not gnashing my bones against all my anxieties.

Tomorrow, I'm moving slowly. Watch me.