Last week my heart metaphor was a washing machine full of water and clothes, but no churning. Still. Silent.
That was last week.
Today, I'm churning. Crying. Aching.
Sometimes there's no visible explanation, but the washing machine load is on heavy and it's churning up crap I don't really want to see.
But it's time.
Time for me to do a rinse cycle. Time for me to pull my head out of the sand and deal with some realities I've been ignoring. Time for me to plan. Time for me to stop being scared of the word "plan".
Time for me to change the load. Dry this one out. Fold it. Put it away.