Well, I made it to work this morning. On the other hand – I. Have. No. Earthly. Idea. How. I. Got. Here. I have no clue. I can’t remember the hour-long drive. Not a bit of it until I made it downtown and was parking. So basically, I made it here but the grace of…
“You’re in here,” I said to my husband. I held up the clear jar and shook it, rattling the pieces of paper inside around so that they plinked softly against the glass. He looked at me blankly, blinking his eyes, head cocked to the side, looking every bit the skeptic. So I explained.
Sometimes, we jump. Other times, we’re pushed. Either way, it’s up to us to release the parachute, if we hope to survive.
In recent years, the concept of self-care has gained traction. It’s held out as the cure-all for the harried military spouse, consummate professional, and the overworked student. But do we know what self-care really looks like? Especially when life demands our attention sayyyy, in the form of a permanent change of station (PCS) move? self-careselfcare