I can feel it building. A restless feeling, an almost aching somewhere inside of me. There are things I have to do to the house to get it ready to sell, laundry to do and pack, kids to feed, and lists to make. But none of it helps. It’s not what I need. Those things won’t help it go away.
My mind is starting to shut down, most of the time I can’t even remember simple words like couch or refrigerator (and I’m not kidding, it just took me 15 seconds to come up with a second word to use as an example). I can feel it, blocked inside, wanting to be let out. I know once I start to let it out, it will be hard to stop. I have to wait.
With my old job I was able to let it out in measured portions each week. It didn’t build up. But I don’t have that job anymore. My creativity has been forced to stay inside of me. There hasn’t been time, energy, peace enough to let it out, to be creative.
Blank notebooks call to me at the store. When packing these past weeks I saved every pen I found. Flower displays make me slow down and think of possibilities. I apologized to my cameras today for not using them much, at all.
Soon, this crazy 4 weeks will be over and I will take an hour and let it out. I’ll get my humors back in proper balance. That is art-letting.