“Spinning,” that’s how I describe those moments when I feel as though my plate is so full that I don’t know where to start so I end up doing nothing at all. Most of the time I ride it out, but sometimes I call someone. Usually that someone is one of my parents.
“Is it crazy that I am in my late 30’s, still emotionally lean on my parents, and still frequently call them for advice?” I asked a wise person at my current school
“I called mine until they were gone. I miss them, and I miss doing so all time.” Just the words I needed to hear.
I called my Dad Sunday. I was spinning, and decided to take a walk. I talked with him the entire time. Every once in a while I would tell him to “hold on” while I paused and took a picture of a flower. Dad made me feel better. He usually does. He balanced his loving words with “suck it up” pep talks, guiding our conversation in a way that only someone who truly knows you can. He put into perspective what felt overwhelming, yet comforted me and validated my feelings.
When I returned home, I looked back at my photos. I had a rainbow. A rainbow, a dispersion of light (hope) in water droplets (all of that heavy spinning stuff) resulting in a spectrum of light, a rainbow.
Thank you Dad for being my light. You make rainbows at a time when the “water droplets” of life are lading a little harder in my world.