We’re having a heat wave of sorts here in Southwestern Ontario, which means the AC has been going full blast for days, and I’ve been walking around wondering where my Autumn went. Something about the hurricanes pushing warm air up this way, etc. etc. Whatever it is, it isn’t exactly sweater and soup weather. Soupy air, maybe, but soup simmering on the stove is *not* a good idea when it’s 40 with the Humidex.

My inner mean girl just kicked in as I was typing. She has some not-so-nice things to say about me right now. She’s saying “Puerto Rico will probably not have power for months, and here you are, whining about a little heat wave.” I hear her. I’m nodding in her direction. I know that someone, somewhere has it way worse by far than I do, and yet what’s happening elsewhere doesn’t change my reality one iota.

I think we all have these thoughts (if we’re sensitive at all) and yet, I think it’s important to allow ourselves to have space for both things to be true. (Hear that, inner mean girl?) Someone having it way worse can kick my gratitude for what I have into high gear, my empathy for what they are experiencing into overdrive, but it *doesn’t change my reality one iota*. It’s still sweltering here, and I still miss my sweater and soup weather, and that’s true, and remains true even while I’m also aware that someone else is in a weather-induced nightmare of epic proportions.

Being human in times like these, living in a world where I get to know what’s happening right here, and down the street, and in the next province over, and everywhere else in the entire world is quite a trip. It’s too much most days. It’s information overload. I wish I could filter my awareness so that I only took in data I could *actually do something about*. Wouldn’t that be a blessed relief?

As it stands, I’ve learned to do what I can, then go fling glitter, because what else am I going to do?

I’m 27 days into a challenge I set for myself to blog every day in September.

I haven’t missed a day. I haven’t run out of things to say. I feel a little more exposed than I like, because writing honestly about ones thoughts and feelers can be a pretty vulnerable thing to do. I mean, does anyone really need to hear about my thoughts on romantic love vs. platonic love? My memories of an old lover? How I feel about living alone? No, probably not. The world would not be missing anything much if I kept my thoughts and feelers to myself. Some days I feel like I’m just kind of adding more noise into the cacophony. But, my inner gentle girl reminds me, it’s important to *me* to feel like I *can* add my voice. For better or for worse, I’ve got one, and it matters to me that I get to use it, even if only to tell you that potato and bacon soup is better two days after it’s been freshly made, or that I think I may have given up on romantic love, or that I really like sweater weather.

I mean, why not? If it invokes a nod in my direction or a ‘me, too!’ or even an “I thought it was just me!”, well, that’s good enough. Because, why shouldn’t we feel a little bit more connected to one another across time and space? Why shouldn’t we know about each other’s ordinary moments? I know that knowing about yours makes me feel a little less lonely. I know that sharing mine makes me feel a little less isolated.

I can’t come here every day with something epic to say.

Hell, I’m lucky if I have something even remotely *interesting* to say most days. Some days, all I’ve got to offer is “Hey, you. I see you. I don’t know what to do, but I see you.”

One can know that, and be tempted to stop saying anything at all, but I think the little things matter. I think it matters when I share that I have survivours guilt over what’s happening in Puerto Rico that’s just powerful enough to make me question the value of sharing my ordinary reality. I think it matters when you read it and think to yourself “Yeah, me too. What are we gonna do?” I think our lives are *made* of the little things, the wee grapplings, the moments we pause to check in with ourselves and each other, and I think our lives, no matter how small they may seem in comparison to other epic-seeming lives, are important enough to document, and even share.

So, hey. Good morning.

I slept beautifully last night. I’m very grateful I have AC this morning. I’m longing for sweater and soup weather, and it feels a little like I’m breathing through a wet brick, but I’ll manage, as I always do. There are horrible things happening everywhere, and Puerto Rico is especially on my heart today, so I went looking for ways to help. This looks especially promising (and direct), so I ‘m going to focus my efforts here.

Meanwhile, I hope to get some work done today, and then I’m off for a pint with a friend later. My furbabes are pressed, one on either side of me, against the length of my thighs. One is purring and the other is snorfling gently in that dreamy way that only Shih Tzu’s seem to snorfle. I am a little whiny about a shitty movie I saw last night that offended my delicate sensibilities, and it’s too fucking hot for the end of September.

I am full of gratitude and #firstworldproblems and empathy and self-involvement in near equal measure.

I’m human, having a very human experience.

I’m out here, waving hello.

xo
Effy

Today’s Nudge: Share a human moment you’ve had recently.

There’s a bunch of us blogging along in September. Find out more here, or pop your email address in the box below, and I’ll send you a nudge to blog every day along with a link to my daily writings.


Looking for accountability partners, other blogs to read, or eyes on your work? How about all three? Join us today in the Artfully Wild Blogalong Facebook Group.

P.S. LIFE BOOK 2018 is open for registration, y’all! Early Bird ends December 31st, so get it while you can!

 

 

 

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