Nothingness

“Sit down, it’s Sunday.” My husband encouraged. 

“But if I do,” I explained “things won’t get done.”

“There’s always something to do.” 

I looked around at the smudges on the walls I’d been meaning to scrub, the tiny toys under the living room furniture and that dead moth that’s been trapped inside our family picture frame for literal years. 

I’d changed five sets of sheets, scrubbed two bathrooms and vacuumed but the list never ends.

One of my friends shared a photo of her rewriting worn recipe cards and I remarked, “How do you find the time?” She suggested that perhaps it was the two less kids.  

Maybe so. 

Or maybe I just need to slow down. 

Life in perpetual motion is never dull but also exhausting. 

Where’s the time to appreciate the exquisiteness of nothingness?

So I sat and ate my new box of girl scout cookies wondering all-the-while if that moth would fully decompose before I took the time to remove it. 

Maybe so. 

Clearly, I have more important nothingness to do. 

I captured this man soaking up the sunshine on my fortieth birthday trip to Savannah, GA. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from him!

Gift

There’s a reason the stewardess instructs you to put on your own oxygen mask before your child’s. 

You are no good to anyone when you’re passed out. 

So, today, when I told my therapist that my doctor explained I was anemic at my latest physical, she chuckled, “Well, that’s telling, isn’t it?”

As a universal donor, I’ve been donating roughly every 8 weeks until recently, when I was turned away for low iron.

There’s always a shortage and since I have the blood everyone needs, I always say yes.

But the theme of “taking care of myself” has been commonly discussed during therapy so it came as no surprise to my therapist to learn I had once again, run my well dry. 

It’s all about setting healthy boundaries.  

Pouring into my cup first, before sharing with others. 

“I can write a letter, if you need.” My doctor offered. 

I laughed, “No, I’m a big girl.  I can tell them No.”

A hard word for me to ever say. 

There’s always a need.

But I want to be here for the long haul, not just the present emergency. 

So, I set boundaries. 

I say, “No.”  

I take care of myself.  

And in the end, that’s my greatest gift to others. 

Camille Vaughan Photography