I’m sitting in my car, waiting for the sunrise to illuminate the trail, preferring not to walk it in the dark. I slept poorly, completely pwnd by my nightmares. My head aches ferociously and I feel as if I am stressed to a breaking point in spite of so recently having a few days away. I find myself on the edge of tears over and over again, and awash in vague feelings of frustration. It’s shitty.
I breathe. Exhale. Regain a sense of calm. Then I lose it again. The experience is very much as if I am completely “disregulated” for some reason. My thoughts come back to this fucking headache. Going on 9 years, in January. No relief. No diagnosis that feels trustworthy or useful. I’m still here, though, that’s something. For now it has to be enough.
The beginning of a sunrise.
My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s up early. His injured condition is vexing and worrisome for both of us. Worse for him, obviously, living with it. The visit to the ER earlier this week seemed somewhat reassuring but the feeling hasn’t lasted and he’s struggling more than seems reasonable. No doubt this is weighing more heavily on my heart and mind than I was prepared for.
The sun begins to rise and the horizon is on fire with intense reds and oranges, and a hint of pink. It’s gorgeous. I sit watching it evolve over some minutes, half an eye on the trailhead. Soon the path will be light enough to walk quite safely.
I try to let the sunrise be enough. The tears start falling. I let them. I don’t really know what else to do with tears. Right now is hard. Sometimes that’s how things are. The world seems like a pretty terrible heartless place right now, which adds to the feeling of senselessness, futility, and frustration. Subjectively, I feel very alone and ineffective, powerless to prevent this mortal vessel from breaking down, powerless to help my partner, powerless to help my dearest friend. Powerless to change the world. Mortality comes for us all, and these fucking meat suits are more fragile than they seemed in younger years. Fuck.
I cry awhile, sitting here alone, watching the sun rise. Sometimes a sunrise is all we get. Sometimes it has to be enough. I sigh and wipe the tears off my face before I get out of the car to walk this favorite trail. It’s time to begin again.
This morning I took a walk in the cold of the frosty morning, just as daybreak arrived. No pictures. Just walking with my thoughts, and taking care that I didn’t slip on an icy surface along the way. Now I’m home, sipping coffee, sitting here with my thoughts. Same thoughts? Same thoughts. I am thinking about good and evil, right and wrong, and the excuses we make. I’m thinking about the inexcusable horror of war and how terrible and pointless it is. I’m thinking about inspiration, and things I’ve seen that I’d like to put on canvas. I keep the sound turned down low on the playlist I’m listening to, in case my Traveling Partner calls out from the other room to get my help with anything, while he recovers from an injury.
…There’s a bit of grocery shopping to plan, an errand to run, and I’m overdue to finally unpack from my trip to the coast (which now seems so long ago). There are dishes to do. Meals to plan. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Life. Adulthood. Taking care of things that take care of me. Sometimes it seems pretty fucking endless, ridiculously repetitive and without any lasting outcome of value. Processes and practices work that way, I suppose. I take a breath, feeling my fingers dance across the keyboard as my thoughts flow across my awareness and on past. I exhale, still finding contentment in these simple things. It’s enough, generally…
I saw a gorgeous sunrise while I was on the coast, and it’s the sort of sight that fills my thoughts for days and lingers in my recollections. Such sunrises are the stuff of inspiration, for me. Sunrises are a little on the nose as metaphors for new beginnings, but there it is; simple and true. Believable. Real.
Begin again.
I breathe, exhale, relax, and look over the many pictures I took on my recent coastal getaway. I spent most of that time working, and so most of the pictures are of the view from the balcony or windows of the hotel room where I stayed for 4 days, with a handful taken on this or that walk on the beach on a lunch break, or some opportune moment when the tide was low. It was time well-spent. I reflect on the time, now, hoping to prevent the nurturing emotional gains of rest, resilience, and introspection from slipping away in the chaos of returning home to an injured partner, and the busy whirlwind of pre-holiday life, generally. Breathe in. Breathe out. Look at the next picture. Repeat.
My Traveling Partner asks about breakfast sandwiches and whether I might make some…? It’s time to begin again.
Wow. What a rollercoaster the last couple of days have been. It was lovely getting home to my Traveling Partner – who turned out to be struggling with an injury. Well, shit. I picked up those day-to-day tasks he could not handle, that usually fall to him, as much as I could. (When I woke this morning, I noticed I never unpacked after returning from my trip!)
I’m sipping my coffee thinking about the blur that Monday and Tuesday were, with doctor’s appointments and an ER visit, and waiting around for imaging – all the things. Yesterday, I woke with a splitting headache that was trying its damnedest to shrink my world and render me useless. I did that thing that isn’t healthy at all; I “powered through it”. The end result was that I was pretty cranky all day, generally not very talkative, and not especially emotionally accommodating of my partner’s anxiety and discomfort – although I really really tried. I managed to “be there for him”, but I doubt it was a super uplifting or gentle experience, at all. I did my best – to me it seemed my best was barely adequate, although he expressed his appreciation for my presence and efforts multiple times.
We were both pretty anxious about the whole mess; we rely on each other, perhaps more than either of us really thinks about very often, and this pushed that reliance into the forefront of my consciousness, while also creating a feeling of insecurity and doubt, due to circumstances outside our control. Kind of scary, really.
I sip my coffee grateful that although my Traveling Partner is injured, he’s “okay” for most values of “okay” and will most likely make a good recovery from this injury pretty quickly. That’s a huge relief. I’m grateful beyond words.
For some reason, unexpectedly, two thoughts collide in my head: the nature of attachment and attachment styles, and the 1970s. lol I find myself thinking that if you listen to the music of that era closely, it starts to sound like that the entire decade exists as the definition of unhealthy attachment styles and a certain cynicism about love, generally. It’s not all bad news and insecurity, cynicism and disappointment, though… there were love songs that “rang true” back then (I just didn’t understand them; love was not part of my experience). Funny how much those mean to me now. Like… time traveling back to that younger self and pointing to these moments, and saying “someday you’ll get here”.
Yesterday, more than once I found myself tearing up and feeling a poignant awareness that I would feel lost without my Traveling Partner. Oh, I know, I know. I’d be okay. He’d be okay… but fuck… I love that man and I count on him. He counts on me. We hung out quietly all day yesterday through appointments and doctors and all the crap that goes along with medical care. I tried to work, but eventually had to just yield to my need to be focused on my partner. I’m glad he’ll be okay.
A new day dawns.
…I’m also glad I got over my fucking headache. Fuuuuuck. It was bad. Today it’s just “normal pain” – manageable. I sip my coffee feeling contented and hopeful, and wishing my partner well from the office as I watch the sun rise through the big windows. It’s a new day. Time to begin again.
It’s a rainy Monday. A new work week. I’m back home and the day-to-day routine has recommenced. I’ve got no heartache over that as I sit here after my walk, thinking thoughts and getting ready for the new work day.
A rainy day view.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of sensations and emotions. I’ll head home shortly, even though my Traveling Partner hasn’t yet pinged me that he’s up. I need to start the work day.
As if on cue, he pings me, and it’s time to begin again. 🙂
Between the greater than usual quantity of coffee I consumed yesterday, and the lateness of the hour when I took my last dose of pain medication, I knew there was a chance I’d spend a sleepless night – or at least find it a challenge to fall asleep. True, for what it was, but more likely that the storm that rolled in gets the larger share of the credit. The blustery storm winds howled outside the windows, slamming the raindrops against the balcony door and rocking the building, making it creak and give loud testimony to its age and reluctance to face another storm. I read awhile. Sleep did not come. I thought, for a moment, that I was about to drift off, but merely making the gentle observation was enough to thoroughly rouse me. I am not asleep.
It’s hours now since I wished my Traveling Partner a good night, doused the lights, and stretched out to slumber. No slumbering here. lol Eventually, I turned on one soft light and got up. There wasn’t much else to do… I started packing. Oh, there’s stuff I need out for the morning, but there was no reason not to yield to the moment and make use of it. So I picked out what I’d wear. Looked over the toiletries spread over the counter chaotically, and tossed what I would not expect to need back into my toiletry bag. One less thing to do in the morning. I gathered my camera gear, setting it aside to take to the car (in the morning – no way I’m going out in this storm!). I consider packing my pillow and the soft blanket I brought for comfort… but I would like to get some sleep, so I reconsider and leave them on the bed. I pack up my work laptop and peripherals, leaving out my own laptop for a bit of writing in the early morning – as eager as I am to be home, I also want to give my Traveling Partner whatever chance he may have to sleep in, too, and hope to arrive after he wakes, and is maybe enjoying his first coffee. I put away my sketch book. My pencils. I put away the book I finished, the book I started, and the other one I’d been reading and didn’t read on this trip at all; they all go into the suitcase. As the bags get packed, they go over by the door, out of the way, ready. I work with care, and without any pressure – it’s the wee hours of the morning, and there is no rush.
The storm continues to howl and blow, outside. I stepped out briefly, onto the balcony. The shallows of the bay, along the beach at the foot of the hotel, are being whipped into white-crested waves that slap the rip-rap retaining wall. They come fast, close together. The wind is blowing furiously. I watch a chair on a neighboring balcony skid from one side to the other in the wind. The drenching rain is driven almost sideways in the wind’s fury. The balcony almost seems to lift in the wind. It offers no cover from the driving rain. The building seems to rock. Yeah… I’m not sleeping. LOL I go back inside, and feel vaguely relieved when I close the balcony door and the wind is somewhat quieted. I am grateful for the safety and warmth of this room, as the storm rages on outside.
…I could immediately return home, leave this storm behind… but I’ve got to admit, I’d rather stay warm and safe in this room, listening to the storm doing its thing through the night, rather than make the drive home in it in the darkness and in the intense rain. It’ll likely play out by daybreak (I tell myself), or at least be somewhat reduced in intensity, and the drive will definitely be less stressful in the light of day on winding mountain roads. The choice is made. I just wish I were sleeping through it. lol
…………………………………………………………….
I laid back down to rest, hoping for sleep. I guess I got enough of both to make through a new day. I woke well before dawn, no hint of light yet in the sky. The winds are still blowing fiercely, rain still hammering at the windows. I make coffee. The weather app on my phone assures me there is a 100% chance of the rain continuing for the remainder of the day and into tomorrow, in this location. Sunrise won’t be until 07:43, apparently, but I know I can count on daybreak arriving sooner, and I’ll likely leave around that time… (I think to check my communications with my Traveling Partner over the past couple days to see about when he’s been waking, and it looks like a good plan.) I sip my coffee contentedly. In spite of the lack of sleep last night, I feel rested – and I can grab a nap later on at home, if I want to. 😀
So much rain.
It’s a stormy seaside Sunday and there are no cars at all on the highway, beyond the bay. The rain continues to drench everything. I certainly can’t step out onto the balcony with a camera in this shit. lol I reflect on my days away. It’s been nice. A couple of work days, a day for me… it’s been a good visit with a couple pleasant beach walks and a lot of pictures. I’m not at all reluctant to end this adventure and head home…but…I’m also not eager to drive in this rain. Waiting for a bit of day light makes sense to me. I douse the lights in the room, and sit awhile listening to the wind and the rain and feeling quite grateful to be living my mortal life in this here-and-now. Certainly humans in the distant past lacked the luxuries and comfort and convenient shelter from a storm that I am fortunate to enjoy. No doubt there are humans in other places, even now, who lack some of these “basics” I likely take for granted far too often. I breathe, exhale, and listen to the rain fall. I sip my coffee, hot, and convenient, with appreciation. It’s not the best coffee I’ve ever had, but giving the matter some thought, it’s pretty fucking amazing to have coffee to drink at all.
Gratitude is a reliably pleasant way to begin a day. I sit here awhile feeling grateful for so many things, and eager to return home – just needs a bit more daylight, and then I can begin again. 😀
Evening Light 