I am working my way back into my life after returning from a vacation in Ireland with my son. The last post I wrote here on the blog was right before we left titled My Return to Ireland. We’ve been home for almost three weeks, and I feel differently on my return.

At first, I wasn’t all here. I felt a hangover from all the travel and pain I was experiencing from my knee that I wrenched in Ireland and the nose cold I’d had for the duration of the vacation. I felt sad for the moments I’d missed having and the landscape I’d no longer be seeing. I washed five loads of laundry the first day and caught up on what I missed in my own life.

And slowly, very slowly, I’ve watched myself stepping back in as the star of my show in my own home. First, I noticed that I’m actively seeking joy in the choices that I’m making. I have been reading a bit to get myself to sit and rest my leg. And I’ve followed my whims out into the garden coming alive with Spring. I weeded, threw seeds in the ground, and picked vases of daffodils.

Experiencing Pronoia and Stepping Back into My Own Shoes on Shalavee.comAn online friend turned me onto a very cool word this week: pronoia.

If I am feeling Pronoia, it means that I am experiencing a state of belief that the world around me conspires to do me good. Because if the opposite, paranoia, is something we suffer than why couldn’t pronoia exist and be enjoyed?

Intentionally looking at my life as half full. Trying to imagine through to how my life would feel… if I lived with more joy, let whatever came from me be good enough. How would life feel If I didn’t feel perpetually behind or guilty about my achievements. If I was certain that what I had to bring every day in every way was important to the world.

Experiencing Pronoia and Stepping Back into My Own Shoes on Shalavee.comI have again found myself noticing and appreciating the loveliness of my fellow humans even when they’re strangers. Enjoying smiles and kindness as if it’s a Christmas day created by my gratitude. Observing the enjoyable layers which I’ve built into my life and that I can lose myself within.

As I gathered daffodils, I think how sad it is that women feel ashamed for their existence in these caregiver homemaker roles. To be given creative freedom to make meaning and beauty and life and home. This is a dream job which I could never be monetarily compensated for. I am rewarded instead, by the satisfaction of tending to my life and my family’s lives. There is a slowness and kindness inside me now which i dearly hope doesn’t leave me too quickly and I remember who I am and what I really want to aim myself toward.

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