careful

Lately there have been several conversations, books, and happenings that I've been trying to process. Strange hormonal swings have my grasp on reality feeling tenuous, at best, so it's been hard to want to share my processing as usual, lest it be off-base or something I later regret. So I confess I've been being careful. And that leads to being stingy, which really doesn't serve anyone. Perhaps I'll just create a "this might be crazy" disclaimer.It's difficult to explain since there's always that sense of questioning or self-doubt in the back of one's mind. This is more like having the feeling of being completely wacko (and those around me agreeing), but I don't realize until I'm twenty minutes, two hours, or an entire day into the twilight zone. (Those around me seem to always figure it out sooner.) So then I'm left questioning my mental health and wondering what is real and what is true. I miss certainty and confidence, but perhaps this suggests those are only ever an illusion.One true blue moment that I know that I know that I had last week was a week-night dinner party. Friends brought Indian food for dinner, luscious wine and choco-martinis, and Amelia and I made a blueberry crisp with berries from the farmer's market. The leaf was in my table, and we probably broke a Lee family record for most chairs squeezed in around it, but all worries about comfort and workability disappeared. I sat down, famished, and looked out on a sight as beautiful as any sunrise. My table, overwhelmed with friendship and the most delicious of food. Looking from face to face, I felt like I was with family. It was a heaven-on-earth moment for me. Those are the riches of which I write.