It’s Friday, and I’m meeting up with the community of Five Minute Friday at the Gypsy Mama for some free writing. Here are the rules: follow the prompt, no extreme editing, write for five minutes flat and encourage the person who linked up just before you. Would you like to join?
Today’s word is GRASP.
We grasp straws, grasp for meaning, grasp for that thing falling past like an autumn leaf. We grasp onto our stuff, grasp for the people we love, scared of what will happen if we let go.
I grasp for control.
I am needy, horribly out of my comfort, and the house is dirty, and I am sitting with fear, all the while typing and trying to move forward as if. As if everything is ok, as if I’m not afraid.
And I want him to know what to do. Tell me, I’ve got this and It will all work out and I don’t know what. You’re amazing, or something?
Maybe I just want him to sit with me and know what I need, and then give it to me. Is that so difficult?
He’s here, but he’s got his own processes, his own work, and some of it involves budgets and deadlines, and he’s working so hard, and I can’t squish between the numbers, and I’m not really saying what I need.
Because I don’t really know. I flail, use grand gestures and major pronouncements, talk in circles, and I probably just need to take hold of his hand and say I feel scared. Can I have a hug?
Maybe I need to open my arms for grace because clutching doesn’t leave space for the gift to land.