may the tide
Yesterday was one of those days where I started frustrated with...well, just everything. I ranted on Twitter about caregiver fatigue and lettuce wraps, nearly got in a fight with G's boss for asking him to dedicate another evening to work, and had a very hard time keeping my patience with Beans, who really just needed cuddling but wasn't patient with me when I needed to get things done. We hadn't slept, were coming down from G's week away, and everything felt like A Lot.
Then, somewhere mid-day, a switch flipped, and honestly, I felt like a completely new person. I found myself sympathizing deeply with the cicadas: trapped in a too-tight carapace, I had latched onto the nearest tree and screamed for a while, then emerged again soft and fragile and vulnerable. And in general, I prefer the vulnerable side of this kind of molting, but it's always scary to be so suddenly softened and exposed to the world.
It's a little surprising to me sometimes just how many of my doula skills are hyper-present in my current work. As it turns out, at least if you're doing things the way I do them, life is all one big metaphor for taking care of each other: Listen when people tell you what they need. Offer ideas if you have them, and let them tell you what they feel up to trying. Ask where it hurts, offer comfort, calm the space. Never enter or leave a room without something needful in your hands.
And sometimes, take a bath that's a little too warm and a little too long, so you can let that too-tight shell come off.
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