My left eye is irritated. What an introduction to a post. But yes, my left eye is irritated. Itchy. Probably the usual: allergies and tiredness. I can feel the tension in my jaw too, clenched tight like I am bracing for something I cannot name. I am tense. That’s all. Tense.
Why am I tired, you ask? Because I got up at 5 a.m., like always, to get ready for work. I spent the morning in the forest with the kids, laughter echoing between trees while my clothes grew heavy with rain. The kids were better equipped for this weather. I do not even own a raincoat. I should. As a preschool teacher who is often outside with the kids, I should really take some money in both hands and invest. But so far, I have never felt the need. Even after today, I do not feel the need.
I am tired because I did not nap today. Usually on Thursdays I do. It is always an exhausting morning, and I cannot fully explain why time in the forest with the kids drains me the way it does. But it does. It always does. And yet today, I chose not to rest. I chose to work on the rewrite of Heart of Stone. I chose words over sleep. I chose to pour more of myself into something that no one is asking for, but that needs to exist anyway.
It is evening now, and my mood is dipping. I know why. The rain is still in my bones, and the quiet of the afternoon has worn off without leaving me rested. My right arm and shoulder are in pain too, the kind that hums just beneath the surface. It has been there since 2019, and I have grown used to it. Even after the surgery, not much has changed. But for a moment tonight, I also remembered something else. A pain-free week in October 2020. I spent part of it in the Netherlands, in Noordwijk. Making memories. I haven’t thought about it in a while, but the memory surfaced out of nowhere, like a small offering. A reminder that there have been light days too. There are many light days. But tiredness, rain, and a grey sky make the world appear a little less light.
The house is full now. Teenagers who need to tell their stories from school. A partner with his own heavy load from work on his shoulders. Dinner still needs to be made. Conversations still need to be held. I still need to function and be present. Just for a little while.
So I do what I can. I put on thick socks to warm my feet. A small kindness. I put on music. And I make pasta, because it is simple, quick, and liked by all.
I remind myself to unclench my jaw, even though I am the one always reminding others to do the same. Funnily enough, I rarely take my own advice until the tension has crept into my neck and started to burn in my muscles and in my tendons.
I noticed these things tonight. The socks. The jaw. The chronic pain. The tiredness. A breath held a little less tightly.
And tonight, when everything that needs to be done is done, I will take some alone time. Cocooned in my blanket, in my bed, watching something meaningless on TV. Something that asks nothing of me. Just to breathe. Just to be.
It will not be easy. I already know that. Because I am not only tired. Not only tense. There is a slow kind of anxiety spreading in my chest now that I am writing this, something I cannot quite name or soothe, only sit with.
So I will sit with it. With warmth. With stillness. With whatever part of me needs to experience this.
And then tomorrow, I will get up at 5 a.m. again. Another morning. Another beginning. Time with my class, finishing our Mother’s Day gifts, because Sunday is Mother’s Day here in Luxembourg. Then I will come home, clean the house, and be a good host to the guest we have at night. We will make pizza from scratch, and I know it will be a fun night.
The world keeps moving, and so do I. Quietly. Softly. Still here.
And if I am needed, if anyone reaches out, I will still show up tonight. And be there.
Are you there?
reflections of an unquiet mind 