Selfish

Apparently I’m being selfish. Preparing for the changes like we’re expecting an alien takeover. Well, aren’t we? I can’t predict what will happen, what kind of impact will be felt, who’s going to arrive. Who will you be baby? Will we like you? Will you like us? Are you going to take up a lot of space? How do we know you’re going to fit into our life, or will our life have to change so dramatically to accommodate you so as to no longer bare any semblance to our former one.

I go out almost every night now. Maybe because it’s summer with all its flowers and concerts and joyful birthing. Maybe I’ve rested more lately and have been taking wheatgrass and have more energy. Or maybe it’s my last ditch attempt at a social life, a frenetic pulse bordering on the manic. I want to go, go, go! Not away, just to keep moving, talking, walking, seeing, experiencing… I haven’t crashed much either, so it feels mostly like the ride is going up. A few tears slip out here and there, but that’s just me. Is it selfish to want to keep my yoga room? I feel like I’ll need a sanctuary to preserve my sanity throughout this journey! Babies don’t need rooms! Okay, maybe they do, but I can’t deal with that right now.

E