I am not sure I know how to write anymore, but I want to. I'm not sure I have ever been in a season of life quite like this- where I feel almost empty of all creativity, brainpower, stamina- while at the same time, blissfuly grateful to be experiencing the very thing that got me there. I have so much time with the kids. They've been home with me for a year. School at home for over a year (actually, Jonah went back for a few hours, four-days-a-week last week. Still, feels like they're always home). I love it and I'm tired. I wonder how long it will take me to recover and be back to inspired writing and going to bed at a normal time (and not requiring four hours to myself every night). My sleep schedule is bad. I'm trying to wake up before the kids. Last week was better, but it's been pretty bad. I am teaching an aerobics class which I still cant decide is good or bad for me to be doing right now- except that it's my one thing I'm doing- and it requires no creativity because all the choreography is given to us.
This time has been such a gift. As I dropped Jonah off at school last week, I felt so much anxiety- instantly aware of all the dangers that come with him being away from me and at school. My body and brain are tired, but my spirit and heart have been at rest for an entire year because my kids have been at home and I have loved that.
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