Dear Ash –
I’m really glad you sent the email version of your blog post to me (and probably a few others) twice today. Funny, because it was probably in error – slightly ironic given the subject matter, don’t you think? But the fact of the matter is, I didn’t read it the first time around.
I’m having a really hard time these days for a lot of reasons beyond my control (yeah, I create my own fucking reality and all that…and yet i’m sicker than shit and have been for months and keep getting worse and ending up in hospital…pretty sure I’m not doing it on purpose…and yes I know that I could still be creating it because it serves me in some way and all that shit. I’m really very enlightened. Fuck.)
But I digress. Point being, I’m in huge avoidance mode. I avoid answering the phone. I avoid opening any emails that are anything less than emergent. Sometimes I avoid making dinner and settle for chocolate and ice cream. I avoid doing pretty much anything that doesn’t relate directly to making sure my children are fed and well, and keeping my symptoms as low-key as possible. Sometimes I even avoid those things. Pretty sad-ass, if I do say so myself.
And so when your first email arrived, I did not open it, just like I have not opened any of yours for the last couple of months (sorry, just being honest.) I also have not opened any of Danielle LaPorte‘s, Satya Colombo‘s, Karol Gajda‘s, Chris Guillebeau‘s, or any of the other people I find inspiring. I just figure I’ll get around to them when I get around to them, or I’ll pick up from a new starting point when I’m ready.
But yours arrived twice.
And I recently watched Oprah talk about life whispering to you, each time a little louder, until it’s screaming and knocking you over the head. So how about learning to listen to the whispers? I decided that receiving your email twice was a whisper.
And your post was exactly what I needed to hear. Don’t think I even need to explain that further, do I?
Sometimes we need to just give ourselves permission to be where we are. Thanks for giving me the permission to give myself permission. (Um, yeah, I know that’s ridiculous.) I’m putting your post up on my fridge.