There are big things in my heart.

Unreachable things. I keep burrowing. Rather than turn on my shows at night, rather than drown my day in noise that distracts and diverts, I sit in my bed and try to listen to the big things happening here in my heart.

I feel around for the fissures, because I know they’re there. I wish I had heart tape, because I want to tape up the cracks. They hurt. But they’re small, and easy to overlook, and hard to take seriously, so they’re kinda hard to find. But they’re there. Like splinters.

I puzzle through the chaos that causes my heart to beat faster than normal and ask, “What’s the trigger?” “What started you?” “How long can this last?” “Will you eventually explode?” Or, “Will you just stop? Will it be soon?” For some reason, that last question is the worst.

Big things are happening in my heart—words are starting there. Words that were maybe there the whole time, but now they have fissures to slide through so they’re seeping our more persistently. With more escape routes, more words get said. More words get felt.

I feel such a profusion of MORE right now. Bigger swells when my little boy gets out of bed announcing that he is “happy, mama!”, deeper valleys when I see perfectly beautiful sunshine filtered through a window instead of cascading across my skin. Bigger tizzies when I turn on the news. I have more desires to help and more desire to hide.

Everything in the moment is magnified and it’s big, and it’s right there, and it’s always with me in my heart.

How are you feeling right now? Is everything bigger to you, too? What’s in your heart?