As I was scrubbing the inside of the microwave, I thought about anxiety and OCD. How I spent years trying to convince myself that the distress and inability to focus when surrounded by clutter -- and my tendency to completely shut off at that point -- was not indicative of a deeper issue. I also thought about eating disorders, and how I firmly believe (despite my lack of medical training, I should add) that eating disorders live on the anxiety/OCD spectrum. I wondered what I could do to help advance research in that field. Maybe nothing. But I guess I can keep talking about it.
I went to the bank. I went to the grocery store. I had a nice talk with the cashier, who might be sixteen but looks twelve. I find him delightful, mostly because the world stretches out before him in every direction. It's his own personal choose your own adventure novel.
I came home to The Fella and The Wee One and felt my heart fill up, as it always does. I love my men. We played games. I made pancakes, poorly (I don't know why I suck at pancake making. Maybe because I don't like them?). The Wee One wanted Easter Candy and I maybe snuck him some extra.
And I took a minute to let it soak in. The life I didn't know I could have or even hope for? It is beautiful. It is full.
It is awesome.