The photo is actually from yesterday. I felt so tired today, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I think I’ve accepted that these days are inevitable, that my battery is bound to run low at some point, especially if I don’t recharge by being outside or physical activity. And even if I do. I think I found a better way of making through these days by being very gentle with myself, breathing, making every effort slow and deliberate.

I also noticed that when I’m tired, I fall back onto my old automatic reactions. I whine, blame, snap and forget little gestures of self-care. I scroll, mindlessly, repeatedly and unnecessarily. It is as if I was disconnecting from myself. Maya would say: when you notice that you do this, call yourself back home. Breathe, stretch, walk, stop, run. Running helped tonight. The pure heady joy of moving through darkening evening, of hitting the ground, of feeling my limbs, light and strong, of feeling my arms, propelling my body forward, my back – leaning forward than leaning back, making space, my lips stretching in a grin, head jerking when a good song comes up on the playlist. I am back home, baby, I feel lighter. I can’t believe the streetlights are already on at eight o’clock. We are dressing into darkness, baby, into long twilights and early bedtimes, into another winter of waiting for another spring. I felt it tonight and I accepted it.

The phrase that keeps circling in my mind this morning: soft around the edges, breathing into it.

It is raining. Almost raining. Barely raining. Just about to rain. Raining again. Again. And again. I am waking up at the first faint trill of my alarm, sometimes seconds before it. I open my eyes to the nuances of grey. I step into the world without hard angles and edges, all soft and soggy. I am stepping into it full of kindness. I feel attentive these days, full of intention and through this intention I feel alive and more powerful than I’ve felt for a long time. The days are busy, but don’t feel rushed, every moment feels full and meaningful. Just the physical sensation of living every moment: the surreal homey feeling of sitting in the kitchen with Marta and Anthony. The acceptance of every moment whatever that moment is feels like a warm drink in my belly. Surely, this is for real? The good times may be passing, but the acceptance is mine. Maybe, this is what courage is: facing every day with kindness.

It rained relentlessly, without stopping, without a pause, all day long. I was home alone with my older child who was bored and lonely, as most of her friends are gone or safely tucked in their own homes. If you’d asked my predictions, I’d say from experience that it would be awful. she’d whine and I’d get frustrated, repeating that I am busy that I don’t have time for her. Instead, I have somehow managed to access that kind and accommodating part of me, the one that as soon as she’s done with the hour’s tasks rushes upstairs to spend a few minutes with the child.

We talked, we played, it was wonderful. We continued playing all evening, simply grateful to be together. Today, it was easy to love. It didn’t feel like too much, didn’t feel like a sacrifice. It felt like being in perfect balance. If there was a day I could repeat over and over, today was a good candidate.

I woke up many times from strange, unsettling dreams filled with urgency. I remember at some point the thought: it’s better to believe in God, or else I can’t ask Him to fix it.

Then it was seven thirty in the morning and I was wide awake, not at all tired. Just before that, on the edge between the dreams and wakefulness, I saw myself going through my old pictures kept in my parents house, one by one, remembering the details, tracing trauma to its context, making sense, healing.

The way my body felt in the morning has confirmed that I had pushed myself too hard yesterday. Had I been running, I’d be nursing another sports injury. I gave a quick thanks for swimming being such a gentle sport. Under the influence of Gabor Mate’s book, I decided not to treat my tiredness as an obstacle or a punishment and instead position myself in it, explore how it can nurture my body and soul. The result was pleasing. Only a mild FOMO about missing the last opening day at the pool. Instead, I did things I almost never do without obligation: cook, clean out the dark corners of the house. It felt good. Children have played outside for almost the whole day and I barely had to check on them – another blessing after years of relentless parental control and helicoptering.

I felt very calm today. Deliberate and spacious. Not tired as in hitting the wall, but tired as in letting my body take control over my relentless sense of not being enough. It felt wonderful.

I overdid physical exercise today – something I haven’t anticipated, at least not with swimming. Around three pm, just as the brief episode of scorching heat ended with the arrival of have clouds, I suddenly felt deeply physically tired. I dragged this tiredness for the rest of the day, as I was watching my children on the playground, collected scattered toys and objects around the living room, made myself a rare second mug of coffee, went to walk outside with Gabor Maté’s book in my ears and played a card game with kids before sending them to bed. It was while playing cards that I realised how the rarely I felt tired this summer and by contrast how “normal” the feeling was for me before. It was so normal, that I repeated my two favourite phrases: “I’m so tired” and “I don’t have time” almost impulsively, without thinking. Tonight, I am grateful for being tired from the water, the physical effort, from the heat and humidity, from being outside, not from the emotional drama and mental load.

As I was walking today, I realised, looking at the trees, that I can no longer see them as simple objects. I see them as individuals, complete with their stories and memories. Similarly, I no longer simply endure the weather (although I am still not a fan of the heat). It is no longer something external, happening to me. I see myself as a part of the process and it makes everything better. And I wonder if this is what it means to have agency, this putting myself in the equation. If I was speaking about the weather, or nature walks or tiredness in a holophrastic language like Mohawk, the weather would be a verb complete with a subject and an object. There would be no way to describe it in neutral terms, to exclude myself from the process. In everything that is happening, I have choices, I am active, I exchange energy with the world, I occupy space and leave my footprint in the universe.

Days in the office leave me unfulfilled and craving more authenticity. Good thing I live next to a good sunset watching place. There should be stars falling tonight.

I start appreciating how the taste and feel of summer changes with the progression of time. From tingly excitement of June, peaking at the solistice and the beginning of vacationtime, to the heady enjoyment of July to the semi-nostalgic joy of August, like a late-night part of a party, when only the closest and the most intimate remain, like pronounced tannins in late-season wine. August tastes sweet and bitter, heavy on the tongue and I love it more with every passing day.

I am always the one to get excited about sunsets, the one who listens to the music playing in the background. The one who smiles and lipsyncs to a song playing in my earbuds then stops when she realizes that someone is watching. Who do you do? You’re too old for this. What will they think? Today, I stopped myself and then carried on. What will they think? I don’t know, but the joy and pleasure I feel is more important than how this joy will look like to an outside observer.

I was late for a meeting today. Not my day, I said when finally jumping on a Zoom call. I lied. It was totally my day. From waking up from a good dream, morning yoga and walking my kids to their activities, a good working day, a lunchtime swim, a conscious decision of letting go when my daughter refused to go to her soccer practice and then a wonderful walk with my children full of rainbows, ice-cream, flaming red sunset skies and loud laughter. It was totally my day. It totally was. I am grateful.

The pure goodness of tonight’s sunset.

I’ve taken four photos today documenting progression of my day. What surprised me was how little I worked and how much I accomplished. How easy it was to reach out to people, to make decisions, to make progress when anxiety was not part of the game. How connectfull I felt. Not just connected, but connectfull.