That most vulnerable moment

There is a moment each night that is the most raw time in my day.

It is the moment that I slow down and am nice to myself, without exception.

Seattle winters and springs are cold and rainy times. The weather is grey. The people are grey. The deep long breaths are grey.

When all is done in my day and work has wrapped, friends have shared hugs and wine and the door is locked behind me, I stop.

My bra is flung in the clothes hamper. My shoes are shoved under my bed. Then. Then, I peel off my tights.

Everything that happened in the day is replayed. Dashing to a friend in need; Listening patiently to some very mediocre male mansplaining my obvious mistakes in executing my job; Applying compassion when I don't quite understand why someone is melting down; Laughing until I snort coffee through my nose; and Getting shit done at work.

Was a I good person?
Did I treat everyone decently?
Can I be strong yet gentle?
Would my parents be proud of me?
Do I like myself?

I'm not sure how other people do it but I like this moment. It is my rawest moment. It is my kindest moment. It is how I plan to be better tomorrow.

I often wonder how others end their days.