Fretful

I wake up at 4 am, again this morning. I turn away from the alarm clock and press myself against my husband. Don’t think, I tell myself. Don’t think, and maybe you can go back to sleep. It doesn’t work. Deep, restful sleep is a phantom, a fairy maybe, flitting among the gradually greening trees,…

Baby Steps

Monday afternoon, and E is back from her training on self-care. I’ve forewarned her that I’ve lost my enthusiasm for exploring the bat caves, that is, the darker recesses of my psyche. And she in turn has indicated she has every confidence we can get back in there. So there we are, smiling at each…