Breathe.

Partway through a moment on Monday that, left unattended, was certain to crescendo rather unpleasantly in a fit of anxiety and crash into a self-designed, patriarchy-approved pool of guilt, I paused to write myself this note.

In a week where my children are out of school, my husband is out of town, my work load is heavy, with numerous and varied appointments to manage and tasks to accomplish and decisions to finalize, this was the best I could muster. My penmanship is less-than-desirable but the desire to extend kindness to myself is sincere nonetheless.

So, if you also need a reminder to take a breath, here it is. Breathe.

And if having a space to do that with other humans this weekend would be helpful, we’ve still got space in our virtual Wounded Healers retreat. We’ll meet on Friday evening and part of Saturday, with breaks for meals and reflection built in.

I anticipate surviving the week (though summer schedules offer no guarantees), and if I do, I hope you’ll join us.