Forget journaling, sex, planting a garden, aromatherapy or yoga, I found my outlet.
When Jen had Ava, someone gave us the ‘Gripper’ as a gift. Normally, I’d assume it was for folks on assisted living, to grab cans of soup from their Rascal or pick up the phone without getting off the recliner.
I found joy in this specific moment, pinching this baby doll’s head, hoisting it to an altitude where it annoyed my daughter. It released all of my stress. I stopped shaking and felt like I was floating above the crowd. It was like Scotty beamed me to a white sand beach somewhere where Verizon ‘COULDN’T HEAR ME NOW’, where I sprawled in a hammock, reading one of the 3 dozen books I haven’t started. It was being a kid and hitting my first home run, seeing my first naked booby calendar in my uncle’s auto garage or sipping one of my dad’s Heinekens while he wasn’t looking. It was just one of those great feelings.
I was reborn.
I guess it’s the little things, right?