as in IN over my head.
I wrote recently, a short poem called I’m done. It came at the end of a long struggle about my place, about being called to be what I am and do what I’m doing and it was a relief to have it settled in my head and my heart.
But I didn’t count on finding myself even further at the end of that rope or to find myself looking up the ladder again wondering where it all went so horribly wrong.
Should I be surprised? It isn’t really as though I haven’t looked up before and seen the sky come falling down.
I can’t pretend I’m not affected by both the flu that seems to be bearing down on me and the yawning emptiness of my house without that darn cat, but I had one too many emails today that makes me and my work redundant and so, once again.