I’ve been on choppy waters for a while. I haven’t been sleeping well, which mean’s I’m starting the day not-fully-charged, which means I’m feeling anxious, which makes it hard to sleep with the high-octane dreams that show up when I’m feeling anxious, which make it hard to sleep, which mean I’m not fully charged, which adds to the anxiety. And, for good measure, in the last few days, our pal paranoia showed up for a visit. And the weather is playing havoc with my cluster headache cycle.
More than once in the last few weeks, I’ve gotten to the part of the day (week? Month?) where I have to ask myself “How will me opening my mouth right now make this better?” and if the answer is that it won’t, then it’s time to be quiet. It seems natural to dig in when someone is coming at you, and push back at them. But sometimes I have the strength of spirit to know that I can say something sanctimonious, or caustic, or even right, but it’s not going to help the situation.
I know where my constitution falls short: The WhiteHotFury. The blackbelt in snark-Fu. The Swearyparent. Sometimes I can wrestle it to the ground. Sometimes notsomuch. So sometimes, there needs to be quiet.
During Lent (and beyond, really), may I be aware of when the best course of action is to take my foot off the gas and just idle a bit. This Lent, may I be smart enough to know when quiet will do more good than anything else possibly can.