The name for this nifty new color template is "sandy shores". I chose it in honor of the place I stood this morning, the place I stood every morning for the past seven days.

My daughter, husband, and I spent just spent a glorious week on the Atlantic coast in a very warm, tropical place. My big decisions each day were something like this: "Hmmm...walk on the beach this morning, this afternoon, this evening, or all three?" I did more walking this week than I've done in a very long time.

I noticed something yesterday that I had not noticed before. When I stood for more than a few seconds where the tide was coming in or out, the sand literally shifted beneath my feet, and I had to keep shifting my weight along with it to keep from falling over. Even after the water has gone back out, and my feet were no longer submerged I had to do this.

Even in the midst of this wonderful week of relaxation and low-effort fun (How tough is it to spread a towel and slather on sunscreen?), there was Something going on in me. I know that there was a moment when something shifted in me recently, and I wrote about it here. I thought a lot about that moment this week and exactly what transpired on that stairwell. It seemed that the chain of events that have brought me some feelings of genuine sadness and the beginnings of a depressive episode began in that moment.

Essentially I have been able to piece together the recollection of another time when I was confronted by angry people who circled me. It was a very, very long time ago and I was a different person then, but that person gave away little pieces of herself, one grain of sand at a time, until there was little of her left. It seemed the only way to have any balance at all was to make herself smaller somehow.

Being able to re-group when the ground beneath my feet shifts is a new thing for me. The old Cheesehead would have given up standing on the beach altogether, just like she offered up little bits and pieces of herself as peace offerings--when she was far too young, before she really had extra self to spare.

But I practiced this week. I practiced standing on my own two feet, shifting when I needed to, without giving up, and I allowed the sand to still support me even while it was moving. It made my calves ache after about fifteen minutes.

I didn't walk away and I didn't give up.