The grind begins to seem relentless at times. Another meal to make and eat and clean up, another errand to run, another crisis to avert, another loss, another pain, another annoyance, another broken something-or-other, another Monday.
All of which powerfully reminds me of the necessity of interjecting joy. It has to be done. There has to be that balance. It's critical. Like blood and air.
Even more critical than responding correctly to the next crisis, or gracefully bearing the next sorrow, or reminding yourself AGAIN that the thoughtful, measured response is going to be more effective than the explosion.
There must be joy.
Fill up the tank every single chance you get. Every laugh and flutter of attraction and nervous giggle. Every kind word and smile. Every time somebody sends you a video of the big tattooed dad who rejoices in his little girl who paints his nails, and every amazing dog that points first responders to one more kid buried under the exploded house, and then go ahead and pass it on.
Let your heart swell up with love. Let it fill you and arm you and armor you against the next batch of Monday and fuckedupedness.
You're gonna need it.
Oh, and go back downstairs, RIGHT NOW and eat that chocolate egg. I mean it. I don't care if you just brushed your teeth! That thing is NOT going to eat itself.