For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a busy girl. A doer. In the race between the tortoise and the hare, I’m definitely the hare. To run at any other pace than full-speed-ahead was tough, even stressful. Relaxing and doing nothing felt like I was doing something wrong.
I barely made it through the front door. The tears welling up on the drive from work began to slide down my cheeks the moment I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind me.