Burnout.

You were like a vacation or an unexpected breath of fresh air.

You were a break from my ordinary.

I needed what you offered and then you disappeared.

And I’m so tired.

I’m mentally, physically and spiritually exhausted.

I want to be unplugged for a week, but then when I asked and bartered for that time I was drug through the mud and everything became too loud.

And I’m crying again because I don’t know how I can walk back into that environment. My adrenaline soars just thinking of putting my key in the door.

I don’t know how others do it. I don’t know how they are able to regroup and do it over and over and over again without a break. 

You were the closest thing I’ll get to a vacation, but the closer I get the more you look like a mirage.

My cup is so empty, I need touch. I need to be held. I need a break. There’s never enough time right now to recharge and it’s fatally frustrating.

I can’t breathe under this mask of the girl who smiles and does what’s asked of her.

I am choking on my own pleasantries and willingness to please.

I am screaming and nobody can hear me.

Flight Risk

Watching airplanes pass over my head, thousands of feet above.

Their wings skim clouds tickle stars.

How surreal to know hundreds of souls, lovers, mothers, grandchildren float above us every day and we are so desensitized to how crazy and insane it is that flight is even possible.

I miss that gravity pull, sucking me into my jump seat like the hands of my family and loved ones trying to pull my head out of the clouds and back down to earth.

Nothing has ever topped flying literally over the top of this lonely rock and seeing her curve under both the darkness of night and the promise of sunrise simultaneously.

My heart still soars on the wings of every plane that crosses the sky above me.

Love you big.

I tell my children that I love them big.

I love them BIG as I know what it is to be loved small.

I don’t want them to settle for a small love; a good enough love.

I want them to be consumed by love and to know that they are needed here now forever and always.

I want them to ooze love so that others know how important they are to not just me but to so many.

I think that’s what holds me back from setting my heart truly free.

I’ve allowed others to love me small; love me with fences and walls up keeping me/them distanced.

I want a love that feels like coming home after a long trip away from your own bed; that feeling of your mattress supportive and firm made for your body. The soft comfort of YOUR blanket wrapped around you. It smells like feels like home.

I want a love that can let me expose my weird and they feel comfortable hanging their weird out too. And we’re just accepting of one another’s weirdness.

I deserve a love that is liquid. It flows easily from one to the other, never too much but never too little.

My kids deserve that love and I try to meet that love BIG.

Doesn’t matter how big they are, they know they can crawl into my lap no matter their age to rest their tired bones against my chest and just let go.

I hope they never wonder or question how much I love them.

I hope you never wonder or question how much I love you.