Half-Dead but Fine
<p>Every morning, I drive my youngest to school. She gets to sleep a little later, and I get to watch her walk inside the school and at least know she was safe up till that point. (I have serious anxiety issues, especially when it comes to my kids. Don’t worry, I do still let them live normal lives. I just overthink everything while I’m doing it.)</p>
<p>There is nothing wrong with riding the bus, but it’s not for us, and we have the luxury of being able to bypass it by choice. I know some people have no other options, and I never take my options for granted. (I was a bus rider as a kid and had no choice.)</p>
<p>Every morning, on my way home, I pass the tree in the above photo. It’s hard to tell in the picture, but one side of the tree is as green as it gets, healthy, hardy, and thriving.</p>
<p>And somehow, the other side of that same tree is dead. Brown and brittle and <strong><em>done</em></strong>. Its expiration date has long passed, judging by its appearance.</p>
<p>The same tree. Different sides. Way different abilities.</p>
<p>Every time I see it, I think about how much I can relate to that tree. It’s been this way for years. Half of it dead, but the other half still pushing ahead, somehow staying alive.</p>
<p>It seems like it would be impossible, doesn’t it?</p>
<p>But how many of us have felt that same way, if we are honest about it?</p>
<p>We may be thriving — kids, job, house, etc. — but there is this other part of us that just feels . . . dead.</p>
<p>I don’t think I’m alone in this thought.</p>
<p>We sometimes alternate between the two too, right?</p>
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