It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.
I spent most of yesterday feeling empty.
I’d made the hard calls. I’d put the plans in motion to separate a mother from her child.
It was the right thing to do. The children had no other advocate and their current living situation has put them in danger.
Afterwards, I expected to feel relief.
But all I felt was hollow.
There was a quiet still place inside me, so deep you could drop a stone from the top and never hear it clatter as it reached the bottom.
I resisted the urge to fill the space with noise, or busy-ness or coping things.
It seemed more important to sit with that strange emptiness, where not even tears would flow.
Where nothing flowed.
I sat with the emptiness, and went to bed with the emptiness, and I did not try to comfort myself.
This morning, I feel clearer. That deep empty space is still there, but it is no longer all of me.
Something this big should have a weight, and a price to pay.
This afternoon, I will walk. Or nap. Or maybe do a little art.
Or maybe I’ll do nothing. And that will be okay too.
We’re all okay, even though we’re not.
Love and introspection, Nicole xx