Have you even thrown your name into a hat, without thinking about it much, figuring you won't get picked so it won't matter. I sorta did that. In late June, when I was exhausted and clearly not thinking well, I saw a post on Jon Acuff's blog, something to the effect of; adventurers wanted, 24 people, 24 days, 1 awesome result. There was mention of risk, passports and machete's so of coarse I sent in my info to join, doesn't that sound like what a tired mom needs? Fast forward, I am somehow in this Start Experiment and before groups get assigned I need to pick a risk for the 24 days. I was so depleted that the only thing I could think to risk was figuring out how to restore myself. I didn't think about it long, it's what came to mind and I went with it. Ever since then I have been trying to figure out, why is that a risk? What makes restoring myself dangerous? I've come up with a few hard answers. I want to share it here because I am curious, anybody else ever feel like this? If I am completely honest, I am afraid to rest, restore, have fun because I fear that those around me will think that everything is alright. How can I possibly be rested and having fun in the same day that I hold our 7 year old limp and blue after seizures? The truth is that is my reality. I have to do just that, enjoy one moment and grieve the next, if I stay down I choose missing the good stuff and I am not willing to do that. It doesn't mean I don't need support but I fear that is how it will be taken. The other thing that holds me back is the fear of failing at whatever it is I attempt to restore myself. It happens, grief has a way of striking when I attempt to rest. Regardless, I know I need to do it. I reached a level of exhaustion last week where it no longer became an option. This needs to happen, I know it will be good for me. My favorite part about this is that it's an experiment, you can't fail at an experiment, you learn from it. So here's to what happens in the next 22 days, so far I took a bicycle ride with Chloe and got a red journal.