On the brink of nuclear war is what the headline says today. I sit at my computer screen in early January it seems dark and gloomy. My house seems like a mess, dirty things everywhere. The kettle pops. I pour boiling water over my chamomile tea bag. Socks on the floor, groceries on the counter, left over breakfast on the table, overconsumption, waste. I sit at my computer; my dog moves to be right near me. It’s quiet. I stop panicking just a little. I’m shaky and nervous that my husband will bring Jack and Fiona home sooner than expected. I look out the window and notice the sky behind the bare branched Sycamore tree looks like winter. Jack and Fiona’s birthday is in less than two months. I had my first facial today since before they were born. The esthetician reminded me I was lucky to ever have had one, that it’s a luxury to be able to have a facial. My skin feels so good, my inner body is still tense, I can’t relax inside. I feel panicked. Catastrophizing. A seriousness and a sadness. I need more time alone to think. To paint. To meditate. To do nothing. These are luxuries too. Quiet, alone, time. The kids and I have been having a great time together. We love each other so much. They are wonderful human beings. I love spending time with them, being their mother. Feelings and moods take over. I feel guilty for wanting more alone time and we could be on the brink of a nuclear war. I still need more time even if the worlds ending and I love being with my kids. Dizzying. I miss my studio.