There’s a lot of mud dust in the air still, which after my EMDR tapping session is not as intolerably bothersome as it was. It’s just mud, it’s not the plague. Dust won’t kill me. It’s like living in the Old West, but with waaaay more trucks and traffic, and better retail, and vegan options. We’re all kinda congested in the sinuses and everyone I know is either sick, getting sick, or just was sick but not feeling all the way better. I’ve been “fighting something off” for a week now. Mike says it’s just Winter cold season and that it’s like this illness-wise all over the country.

It’s tough for me not to make up stories about a stress-ash-mud-illness connection though. The flight response is still whirring in the background, loudly.

There’s no where to go. Nowhere guarantees that feeling of safety and security I’m longing for. That’s an inside job. I’m pretty sure.

And we are nesting like banshees in our home. Even Ax wanted to spend all day in his room building elaborate lego vignettes and re-arranging his overstuffed shelves.

I rearranged the living room, again, and again, decluttered even more, but I’m still unsatisfied, still uncomfortable in the one place that’s supposed to be the most comfortable.

So I’m noticing that today. I’m gonna keep going.