I woke tired from a restless night of strangely lively surreal dreams. My walk felt short, and rushed. My day already feels busy and “crowded” with things that must get done before daybreak tomorrow, and the start of a few days of downtime spent attending to my emotional needs, and indulging artistic inspiration. Self-care is important and worth the time commitment to get a few things done so I can be away without concern, but… good grief I feel so busy right now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s the start of the workday, and looks to be an easy one. Routine, at least. Then home early enough to take my Traveling Partner to an appointment, then a quick shopping trip, then make (and enjoy) dinner, then pack (omg I should have worked from home today) and load the car, then, if there’s still time, a little time spent just chilling with my partner enjoying the last of the evening. Yeah, it feels like a busy day, but I’ve got a plan, and it’s not really “all that” – it just feels busy. Another breath. Another moment.

I’m in so much pain lately. A few days to myself to sit with that without also feeling like I’ve got to mask it to avoid making everyone around me uncomfortable will be a nice “luxury”. There’s more stress than I want to admit in having to “put a good face on it” when I hurt like this. Pain relief measures only do so much, and I’m not willing to take (nor am I prescribed) the quantities of painkillers it would take to shut down this amount and intensity of my personal combination of arthritis and headache pain. It is what it is. I’m also not willing to let pain call my shots or totally wreck my experience; there’s more to life than the pain I’m in. I remind myself often. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it just annoys me. Sometimes being annoyed about it helps in its own way. My Traveling Partner endures his own pain. Hell, even the Anxious Adventurer deals with pain – and frankly, most people do, to some extent, I guess. The challenge is not being a dick about it, and doing the most we each can to go ahead and live a good life in spite of the pain we’re in, and to remain mindful that we can’t possibly fully understand the pain someone else is in. Ever. Even if they say. We just can’t know their experience the way they do. So…I try to manage mine, and mostly keep it to myself. It’ll be nice to have a couple days to just sit and weep over it, while I paint, if that’s where it takes me, and not be worried that anyone else will be affected by those tears, or my pain.

Beyond the pain, I’m looking forward to a couple days of watching the tide come and go, and sitting with my thoughts – and my grief – and just “getting my head right” in my own way. The holidays are coming. The first in decades that my Dear Friend won’t be part of that experience in any way. That hurts more than I expected it to. No need to think about what to send her. No need to share anecdotes or pictures. No need to message her on Giftmas morning so she doesn’t experience the morning alone. No need to delight her with my curiosity about what my Traveling Partner may have gotten me, or made me, this year. She’s just…not here. My sorrow tries to swamp me every time I remember, and I really need to get past that somehow. It’s a lot. Granny? Gone, too. And Mom. And my long-gone girlfriend, T. There are unshed tears waiting their turn to fall, and I need to allow myself time for that this year.

I’m eager to hit the road, and hit the trail. Eager to walk my own path and feel my feelings (there’s no shame in these honest tears). I’m eager to begin again on the other side; the way out is through.