The Feeling Underneath
28 Days of Asking: Day 11
Wednesday. Up at 4:30, the house is very dark, and my mind is already running. I tried to fall back asleep, but my body wasn’t having it. So I lay there, eyes closed, doing a light NSDR drift, not quite sleeping, not quite awake…until 5:30 when I finally gave up and swung my feet to the cool floor. A full night, technically. But my thoughts were already a couple of hours ahead of me.
Made breakfast. Packed lunches. Mixed a matcha protein creatine concoction for the road. 15 grams of creatine, knowing I’d need the extra boost. I prefer my coffee version; the bitterness masks the rest of it better. Matcha just sits there, slightly chalky, doing its job without any elegance. The sky outside the kitchen window was slowly shifting from deep black to deep gray to something almost like morning. We were out the door before the sun, headlights on, the boys groggy and getting dressed in the backseat. School drop-off at 7:15, the parking lot is still quiet, the teachers clutching coffee.
Met Nathan at the gym as the matcha kicked in. A short session: enough to move, not enough to empty the tank. Then sauna, the heat softening whatever tension I was still carrying. A quick plunge after, that sharp reset where everything gets quiet for a second. I left feeling steadier than my early wake-up should have allowed.
Headed to a cafe in Miami Shores, trying a new spot while staying close enough to the beach for pick-up later. Laptop open, the hum of other people’s conversations in the background. Had a plan. Head toward the beach around lunch. Pick up the boys at the normal time. Find a rhythm for the afternoon.
Then a call at 1:15. Henry had a fever. Headache. Come get him.
I scooped both boys and got them home, only to find Henry wasn’t actually running a fever. The thermometer read 98.9 (triple-checked). False alarm. But now they were home, and so was I.
The afternoon unraveled from there. Constant chatter. Questions lobbed from across the room while I was mid-brainstream. Loud noises bouncing off the walls…Nintendo Switch sessions, arguments over nothing, the particular chaos of boys with too much energy and nowhere to put it. I tried to work between interruptions, made a dent in outreach and research, but the focus kept slipping through my fingers. I wore thin as the hours stretched.
Then, right before dinner, they were out on their bikes. I watched Hawk blow through a stop sign like it didn't exist. The kind of carelessness that sits somewhere between a kid being a kid and absolute horror. I yelled out in alarm. I pulled his independent riding privileges indefinitely. He didn’t like it. My mom's voice in my head comes out, ‘I'd like you to live to see 9.’
We moved into dinner. I was already frayed, anxious about not getting my creative time, watching the evening slip away. The boys kept up their chaos through the meal, through the bath, until I finally hit the couch to write this. The house is quiet now. Just the hum of the dishwasher and my own thoughts.
Day 11: What feeling am I trying to avoid right now?
I wanted to be further along today. More productive. More patient. More present. Instead, I spent most of the afternoon managing noise and holding frustration in my jaw.
And underneath that frustration, if I’m honest, is something else. The feeling of being stretched past capacity. Of not having enough left to give. Of wanting space that isn’t available and feeling guilty for wanting it.
I’m not avoiding the chaos; it’s not possible. But I might be avoiding the feeling underneath it. The one that says: I’m tired. I need something I’m not getting. And I don’t know when I’ll get it.
What feeling am I trying to avoid right now?
Not the surface irritation. The one beneath it. The one I’d rather stay busy than sit with. I’ll dig a little deeper after I hit send on this one.
If you’re following along, check in. When the day frays, what’s the feeling you’re outrunning? Anger? Exhaustion? Loneliness? Grief? And what happens if you stop running just long enough to name it?
