The Village
28 Days of Asking: Day 12
Some days fray at the edges. Thursday snapped clean at the end.
It started fine. Eight hours of sleep. Boys out the door on time. I even discovered I’d packed lunches they didn’t need…the field trip had it covered. A small reminder of how deep in the weeds I get, doing things I don’t have to do because I don’t have the bandwidth to check.
Work was steady. Inch by inch. Outreach, research, calls. Seeds starting to sprout. The kind of day that feels like traction even when it’s slow.
Somewhere in the middle, I talked with Tony about Join or Die, the documentary about how connection keeps us alive. Putnam’s research on community and belonging. The cost of isolation. I didn’t know how soon that would hit home.
Then the gym for a sauna. Cedar walls, dry heat, sweat dripping. I was finishing outreach emails in my way in, feeling like I’d made it through another one.
And then my body pulled the thread.
A wave of nausea hit as I stepped out. I picked up Hawk—Henry’s off tomorrow, fishing trip with a friend—and pointed us home. Made it as far as the 826 bridge before I had to pull over. Hazards on. Door open. Traffic humming past while I lost everything on the side of the road.
The relief was enough to get us home. I folded myself into the crevice of the couch in the living room, across from the kitchen where dinner was happening without me. Luna pressed her black lab warmth against my legs, nose tucked in, holding vigil. I waited for life to come back.
It didn’t. The stomach pains kept rolling. I don’t like going to healthcare providers—I’ll push through almost anything before I’ll ask for help. But my body wasn’t giving me a choice. Tonight it was forcing my hand.
Now I’m in a patient bay at urgent care, just swabbed for the flu, Zofran dissolving under my tongue. What a day. What a week.
Day 12: Where am I going it alone when I don’t have to?
The irony isn’t lost on me. I spent today thinking about the cost of solo. How self-reliance quietly becomes isolation. How we convince ourselves we don’t need the village.
And then my body said: not tonight. Tonight you need help.
Luna on the couch. Hawk patient through the detour. The village showing up in scrubs. Lauren taking care if dinner and holding down the fort.
So I’m curious: Where am I going it alone when I don’t have to?
Not the things only I can do. The things I’ve convinced myself only I can do. The places I’ve stopped asking…or never started.
If you’re following along, check in. Where are you forcing things solo? What would shift if you let someone in?
I’m in the patient bay. Still asking. Finally, leaning into the village.
