* * *
Today is going to be another slow paced day. I'm running some anxiety, which I'm just allowing, and the plan is to just move slow and not push. I mean to take the dog for a walk later and do my hand floreo drills after I do more sewing for the shop. I know it sounds like a lot, but understand that if I do none of what I just wrote there?
I'm going to be okay with that.
It still feels weird, like stretching a muscle that is tight and sticky, but getting there. My therapist said, "We have a word for that. It's called growing."
So. Grounding. I can see Isis on my desk, cleaning her back, my Shaping Sound calendar on the wall, my computer, my Ulysses Swallowtail butterfly on the wall. I can hear Isis cleaning herself, the hum of my computer, a cricket in the garage, the hum of traffic on Victory. I can smell the staleness of the house (NB: open some windows tonight), the I was just outside smell of Isis' fur, the salt on my skin. I have coffee with milk to taste, water to taste.
Here we go.