I run on battery power.
There’s a well of energy inside me, and right now, it’s charging. I’m in a familiar place, doing something I enjoy. Sitting on my couch with my computer, my battery is humming contentedly as its indicator changes from a red sliver to a full green cell.
There are a handful of circumstances that act as my charging stations. Visiting my parents and sitting at their kitchen table, for instance, or relaxing in their living room. Curling up in bed with R and watching Netflix. Staying with a close friend in Portland. Making a long car ride across the state by myself. Doing things I feel good at. In all of these situations, I plug into the cozy familiarity and let it fill my battery up.
I try to keep my battery as full as possible, because it’s a mess when I go into emergency shutdown mode.
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