little sarah Big World

“My role in society, or any artist’s or poet’s role, is to try and express what we all feel.

Not to tell people how to feel. Not as a preacher, not as a leader, but as a reflection of us all.“

– John Lennon

Today I am pleased with a mid-morning snack of oranges and chai tea. With my new, clean work clothes, grown-up clothes, and a day to myself. I am happy to be outside, running, happy for the warm, misty morning rain. Dew drops on a spider’s web that stop me in my tracks. Small things, like that.

And, like many days, I find beauty and elegance in the small details. A sense of grace in what might otherwise be simply puttering about the apartment, quietly ricocheting from one project to the next.

Except, in the past, this fragmented approach underscored steady progress, and all the projects came together, one by one, each occupying a determined and defined space in my mind.

Now I spin in a soft frenzy, unable to finish anything, worried about doing things the exact right way and unable to commit to even the smallest decisions. I am overwhelmed by what I perceive as an insurmountable chaos–lesson plans and textbooks and a closet without drawers–and overwhelmed by the choices required to properly order things–buying notebooks and folders, filing things away, choosing between a dresser for the bedroom or plastic bins in the closet.

And what if I don’t get the right laundry hamper?

(The BEST one. The one that will solve everything.)

I am stressed out by Chad’s email inbox, by my sisters owning too many clothes, by the thought of all of the people in the world and their own disorganized closets, email inboxes, photos, and files. I want to know that I’m doing things the right way–the best way–with no excess, perfectly streamlined, and that everyone else is, too.

So. I take solace in the curve of an orange rind on a tea-stained ceramic plate. A simple mid-morning snack. A simple day, not much to do. That’s about all I can handle. Still, even then…

*       *       *

I don’t feel very grown-up, at all. I feel anxiety closing in on me, waking me in the morning and keeping me up at night. Pushing me away from the love of my life. I feel it growing inside of me, like some long-dormant monster I’ve been unintentionally nurturing all my adult life, awakened by the one-two-three punch of marriage-moving-IUD.

Sorry, no conclusion yet, Friends. Just field notes. Just feelings. Just trying to give an accurate reflection.