How ironic is it that, in the middle of an arts festival, I can’t seem to find time for any creative work?

I’m certainly not living by example this week.

Probably better for me to think of it as a seasonal thing and this is my season for providing opportunities for others to be creative.

Still, I’d like a bit of writing time, please.

Google says this is some part of a rose bush but I am pretty sure it is an alien spy.

Today was a very confusing and difficult day. No major crises, just one unnecessary complication after the other.

You know, one of those days when you have to just roll with the chaos instead of trying to establish order.

The only upside is that my friends and family were kind and understanding and helpful at every turn.

When I headed to the hospital this morning for a routine appointment, I thought my biggest challenge was going to be finding a place to park.

But as the hospital loomed into view (does anything good ever loom into view?) I realized that this is the first time I have gone inside the hospital since my Dad died.

And that made it so difficult to drive that last little bit toward the hospital.

It was more of a dread of what I might feel than what I was feeling. (Not a great thing for my brain to do but brains are tricky monsters)

I filled up with what ifs

What if I can’t even go in?

What if the feelings weigh me down?

What if I start crying when I step inside?

So I was feeling bad in the moment AND anticipating feeling worse.

But as I started looking for somewhere to park, and got increasingly frustrated with not being able to find a spot, I managed to distract myself.

So coming into the hospital, late and in a hurry, kept my brain busy and by the time I got to my doctor’s office I was ok.

Well, mostly anyway.

I’m trying to set myself up for an orderly week by getting really specific about what I am going to do and when I am going to do it.

But I have to strike a balance between that and getting TOO specific and stressing myself out.

Let’s hope for the best.