No sunset tonight. I was "around," but I had just finished working. My poor daughter was really sick today. Her little bro woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me she was throwing up.
I sometimes worry about my motherly instinct. I knew the rightright thing to do was to get up and check on her, and of course, I did. But I didn't want to. I didn't feel compelled to rush to her side and comfort her. I just wanted to sleep.
I've noticed that before. I don't have a natural instinct to comfort when my kids are frightened or hurt. I do, but I have to remind myself that that's the thing to do. It's not that I don't care either. I'm not sure where my motherly instincts are. It makes me question whether I'm entirely sane. Perhaps I'm a sociopath and I don't know it. Hopefully someone will tell me.
Anyway, I worked from home much of the day. I didn't want to leave my daughter here by herself when she was so ill (okay, I guess I do have at least a little motherly instinct.) She slowly improved throughout the day, and finally fell asleep for a few hours. She's not 100%, but she will be soon.
I managed to get a full day's work in and do laundry. Folded and everything. I hope I get to work from home more often (minus the sick child). I got a lot done. I was at least productive as I am at the office. That was good to know about myself. But then, I'm not super surprised. I'm a self-starter type.
I rarely talk to my boss. He only comes in once or twice a week. And even then I don't see him more than twice on those days. He's particular in that he wants things done right, but he's no micro-manager. He just hires good people who do their jobs and do them well.
I really like working for him so far. Mostly because his requests are always reasonable, and he let's me be and trusts me to get on with my work.
I uad a really interesting meditation this morning. I was flying over a vast, icy, jagged moutain range. I kept expecting to land, but I realized I wasn't going to. Then I realized I wasn't meant to land. I was supposed to be up above the forbidding landscape. I was on a journey where the roads and the rest stops looked totally different than anything I've known before. That mountain range is now meaningless to me for anything but scenery. I'm not going ro land in the same types of places I've known before.
I couldn't see where I was going. But I was safe. It seemed to me as people who suffer from clinical depression describe the effects of their medication. In that you can see the bottom. You know its there. Hell, you've lived there. But now there's a platform that keeps you from sinking all the way to the bottom.
That's what I saw. We'll see how it all plays out.