When it's time to say enough. done. be still.

Making space to be enough.
It's morning. I gently awake from a unsettled sleep with the slightly irritating buzz on my wrist. My Fitbit telling me it is 6:15. Time to get up. I reach across the bed and touch my husbands arm. Sleeping. Finally. Since he was sick this summer sleep eludes him…restless…uncomfortable…in pain. It hurts my heart. He needs to sleep, so I quietly exit the bed, fumble for my sweats on the floor, and leave the room...silently closing the door behind me. Daughter number one is singing in the kitchen. Singing! At 6:15 AM. Who does that? Yet it causes me to smile. I am immediately greeted by wagging tails and cold noses…mama's up mama's up, maybe we will get food!
I open the slider and let the furry girls out and the rush of cold air hits me, taking my breath away. Immediately I feel a sense of dread. Dread...because I know winter is coming. Dread...because I hate the cold. Dread...because my depression is always at its all time high in the colorless gray of winter. My feet are cold on the patio. Why didn't I grab my slippers?
I start my morning routine. Coffee first. Dishwasher. Lunches. Vitamins. You know, mom stuff. But I feel a clinging heaviness in my heart today that I can't quite identify.
I'm fully awake now. The bustle of the morning is a whirlwind of entertainment. So many personalities. So many hormones.
I drive the girls to school today because I need the car. It's still dark. And cold. And foggy. It's doing nothing for my mood. But we chatter and we sing and we laugh...a little. They are truly my joy, sometimes more than others.
I exit the school parking lot into the massive glitter of headlights streaming into the school. I begin to process today's blog post…an ask Lisa question. How do I get it all done? Funny. Today I can't seem to pull any of my thoughts together. I have no words. I have no humor. I don't even know where to start.
I drive in silence watching the headlights. The sun begins to rise and even that doesn't get my attention today. Something is wrong.
At my desk. Again I try to write. Nothing. I just feel empty. Void. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to pay attention to my to do list. I don't want to go to the studio. I don't want to write a blog post. I don't want to exercise. I.don't.want.to.
So I slump in my chair down to the floor. I crumble into a ball like a two year old without the tears and tantrum. What am I supposed to do next? Why are the have to's so important? Why do I never get to just do what I want? Me. Lisa Lehmann. Not Lisa the wife. Lisa the mom. Lisa the artist. Just Lisa. Me.
Seconds later I'm surrounded. Wagging tails and wet noses. I'm on their level, therefore if I'm on the floor I must want to play. Somehow their invasion of my space with warm wriggling bodies is a comfort. I relax. Breathe out.
I sit up and grab my second cup of coffee…or is it my third? Days like this might warrant an entire pot of the hot steaming liquid to keep me going. The introspective part of me wants to know why I'm feeling the way that I do. I can't seem to let it be… I need to know…identify...fix. I shake my head. Stubborn and stupid.
I don't cry. There are no tears. Emotionless. And then it hits me.
I'm empty. Depleted.
I just spent five days in Atlanta being the very best extrovert I could possibly be. I came home to the full demands of family and business and life and I charged into those demands head on. Fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife and mom and business owner. Adrenaline. Rush. Commitment.
But THIS morning my body, my mind and my heart said…enough…done. Empty. Fill me. I'm not broken or defective. I'm just me. I'm an introvert that needs to have some time alone to recharge. Time to think and sit. Time to just be myself.
It's taking me a long time to identify with who I am. And to realize this does not make me weak.
So how do I get it all done? Sometimes it's by sitting back and getting nothing done at all. It's time for tea and a book. Maybe editing photos for fun. And braiding my hair. It's time to just be quiet. No music. No Podcasts. No sound.
I took a personality test last night it nailed me to a "T" - ISFP. True artist. Introvert. Dreamer. I took comfort in knowing I had an identifiable personality. Comfort in knowing I'm not a misfit. Comfort in knowing in a few days I'll be just fine and ready for my next impersonation as an extrovert. The deception is real!
If you need me today I'll be off in a corner somewhere…probably on my porch…maybe I'll finish working on my sharpie jeans…dreaming.

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