Maybe God is trying to get your attention long enough for you to sit the fuck down, listen, and rearrange your plate.

THEY CAN ABSOLUTELY STEAL YOUR PEACE.

Peace. 

They say people can't steal your peace. 

But they can.

They say you give it away. Or that you let them have it. 

Maybe.

But to me, it's all the same once it’s left the building of your brain.

SUNDAY IS SUPPOSED TO BE SACRED.

I woke up earlyish.

8am.

Stayed up way too late binging Yellowstone and the original Law & Order reruns.

Until 1am.

And playing with my Instagram bio on my phone.

I hate the IG bio. It's my fucking nemesis right now.

When I open my eyes, I reach for my phone and book the 9am Pilates reformer class. 

A reset. 

A slower class, I'm aware. 

Hopefully to stretch, to chill, to have peace.

But I'm so bored and irritated in class. I can't understand the cueing… what I'm doing, when, or where. I'm looking at the clock waiting for it to be over. This has only happened 3 other times since starting in June. Wait for the feedback form. I know it is coming immediately after class.

They know I have 30 yrs in the industry. They know I say it straight. They know I don't sugarcoat.

I don't.

THEN THE TREADMILL STARTED SCREAMING.

I head to the next gym right after.

A 75, maybe 80-year-old man on the treadmill 8 or 9 down from me is running, holding on with one arm, skidding his shoe on the treadmill. Nails on a chalkboard for 45 min straight.

The sound is wretching.

Horrible.

Noise canceling doesn't cancel it.

My peace is dominated by his foot dropping, skidding, sliding, screeching rubber murdering the tread belt. Screaming for its life. As are my eardrums.

He is oblivious. 

Holding on to the railing for dear life.

SURELY GOD LIVES IN THE SAUNA.

My sanctuary.

Surely there my peace will still exist.

Yep.

No one inside.

Mine.

All mine.

Thank you God.

For 5 min.

Two women enter.

Cool.

We have the whole 12-person sauna.

Nope. They sit right next to me.

Like right next to me.

And talk.

And talk.

And talk.

While I try to pray.

Worship.

Listen to music.

Meditation.

Zen myself.

Hear myself.

Feel the spirit.

Anything.

Tap in.

Tap out.

Breathe.

But I hear them.

And my peace is gone from my brain once again.

BY THE TIME I GET HOME, MY INSIDES ARE PACING.

I come home.

My husband.

I can't remember now.

But he finishes the job.

I feel like a caged animal and hello, have you met me?

My insides are pacing.

My blood is white-water raging.

Rapids.

Tornadoes.

Turbo charged.

I go outside.

Dig my bare feet into the grass and ask God for change.

To pull me up out of here today.

This week.

My son goes to a friend's house.

My daughter shows me her tattoos she plans to get in a few weeks when she turns 18.

And my fucking IG bio still sits on edge, eyeballing me.

To see if I'll change it again or leave it for a few days or a week.

AND SOMEWHERE IN ALL THIS CHAOS, I REALIZE WHAT I’M REALLY PISSED ABOUT.

I have 7 projects to work on.

A porch to clean.

A dad to call.

And a brand new life to recreate.

Because I'm officially in the business of me.

I couldn't be more at peace and in chaos and consumed with overthinking and analyzing, clarity and freedom and feral life lessons.

I wanna redesign my office that I don't really have but am grateful for the space anyway because I used to be, well, way worse off.

I wanna move from my street. This neighborhood has gone to kaput. What is it about living in the suburbs. Seems after seven years, people quit on their homes and stop giving a shit.

I want to get rid of the car I drive because it reminds me of my ex, who was my lover, toxic flame and the star main character of one of my books I’ve been writing for what feels like forever..

I want to sleep.

And go to the beach.

And read the 3 new books on my night table.

And watch my list of 9 indie films for research and fun so I'm a better writer and savage self-help deliverer.

I want to wake you up so you don't waste your potential and time and energy and stories because that shit really pisses me off.

BUT REALLY, I HAVE QUIT PEOPLE AND STARTED ME.

Because in helping you, I have lost serving me.

Do you get what I mean?

Are you spending so much time helping and doing and tending to everyone else's dreams and desires and plans and decisions that somewhere this firehorse year - yours got put on pause or passed over or made low priority on the totem pole and now you've forgotten the purpose of it all?

Well.

Fuck that shit.

And fuck people first.

You first.

Me first.

Them second.

If you get it.

You get it.

Happy Sunday.

TAKE YOUR PEACE BACK.

They can absolutely steal it.

But you can snatch that shit back.

If you’re bold enough to notice and stop treating yourself like scraps. 

Follow IG: @robynlynntanner 

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