I started the day lost in my head. It’s fine. Strange dreams. Woke feeling like maybe I’m getting a cold? Maybe not. I get the morning started, get the commute going. I end up at work much sooner than I expected, though I subjectively feel as though I “left at the usual time”? I was definitely not speeding… but the rainy weather dominated my attention, and I barely noticed how few red lights stopped me this morning. Consistent often beats “fast”. I shrug it off, set up my laptop, and make coffee. Still lost in my own head, my coffee goes cold before I ever taste it. Wild. What a weird morning.
I finally open a new window to start a bit of writing before work… I stare out the window watching the darkness slowly transition to daybreak without typing a word. Lost in thought, but without recollection. A bit like meaning to record something, but forgetting to hit “record”. Strange morning. Strange thoughts. I teeter on the edge of fatigue and alertness.
…Somehow I’ve got to start this day…
I quaff some of this cold coffee. Same coffee beans, same machine, same process of making coffee as with yesterday… this cup is not bad at all, in spite of having gone entirely cold before I got around to drinking it. It’s fine.
I sit awhile longer. Just… sitting with my random thoughts. Nothing of consequence. I’m not “happy”, “sad”, or even “indifferent”. I am, more than anything else, at least at this moment, an “empty vessel”. Like a pitcher with an unnoticed hole in the bottom, I pour my thoughts into my attention but they don’t accumulate into anything useful, they just leak right on out. lol
I take a deep breath. Pull myself upright. I’m completely out of two necessary prescriptions; the Rx’s expired without my noticing, between refills. Fucking hell. I’ll have to 1. phone them in and 2. go directly into the actual VA pharmacy and get the attention of an actual human being and make a case for filling them in person and giving them directly to me. Their system is not set up for veterans with any sort of cognitive, behavioral, or mental health issues at all. It’s almost as if they don’t actually care. I sigh out loud. I just don’t even want to think about it, deal with it, or… you know… do the thing. Fuck. I would very much like to just have the option of putting all my Rx’s onto some sort of automated process, as I have been able to do with recurring bills, you know? Easier. Better for me. Better results. Consistency.
I finally think to start a music playlist. The first track startles me out of my peculiar reverie and I feel myself begin to “come unstuck” (in a good way). Words begin to hit the page, and I end up… here. And it’s already time to begin again.
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.
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. 😀
Day two of my coastal getaway. I’m up at my usual time, sipping coffee and listening to the ocean instead of sounds of traffic somewhere nearby. It’s not that there’s no traffic nearby, there surely is. The hotel is quite near the highway, but it is nearer to the ocean, and the ocean is all I hear.
Daybreak at Siletz Bay
Yesterday was a good, if rather ordinary, work day. I worked. I worked from this hotel room on the shore of Siletz Bay, content to get up and stretch now and then, and snap pictures from the balcony as the light and the tides changed. Quite delightful. In the afternoon I walked on what remains of the beach after the tide went out, taking advantage of a break in the rain and a few minutes of sunshine. In the evening, I watched a couple videos my Traveling Partner had shared, and later, “together”, we watched a favorite creator’s newest video when it premiered (that was so much fun). Later still, I picked up a book I’m reading (Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers) and read awhile, until I became too sleepy to continue. It was, as I said, a good day. Quite pleasant and relaxed.
I woke once during the night, choking on a nightmare, wrapped in the airline of my CPAP machine. Because I was in “a strange place”, I was lacking the usual “everything’s okay” visual cues that I rely on to calm me quickly. I panicked. Thrashed in bed, frightened by “whatever” was wrapped around my neck (it wasn’t tight and there was no legitimate cause to be so alarmed, but I woke from a nightmare and was not thinking clearly). I lashed out with an alarmed exclamation, and ripped my CPAP mask from my face abruptly. Confused by the sound of velcro and plastic clips yielding to the forceful removal of my mask, I turned suddenly, falling off the edge of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. I sat there for a minute, gasping and crying, and confused. “Breathe, breathe, breathe,” I reminded myself silently. One deep breathe after another. My heart rate began to slow. The dream images began to fade. I began to regain a sense of where I actually was in time and space. Another breath. Another. I got up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. I’d somehow managed not to pull the CPAP machine off the nightstand, and none of the clips on the mask assembly were broken. I shrugged silently in the dimness, illuminated softly by the balcony light (I often leave the curtain partially open so that the sunrise wakes me). I give myself a minute, then pee and get a drink of water before going back to bed.
These sorts of things aren’t all that unusual for me, though far rarer these days than they were years ago. They’re more likely in strange places, or after particularly stressful or trying days. Funny that I had such a bad nightmare last night. When I went back to bed, I left the balcony door open just a crack, to more easily hear the sounds of the sea and the wind and the rain. Soothing. I slept well and deeply and woke gently some time later. A usual time. A usual sort of awakening. I’m okay, and I don’t remember now what my nightmare was even about. Considering the panic over the mask and the airline, quite likely it was built on recollections of my violent first marriage or the experience of wearing a gas mask sitting in a foxhole during the war. Or both. Trauma leaves a lasting impression.
I sip my coffee and reflect quietly on how far I’ve come. A nightmare of that severity would have wrecked days of emotional balance, not so long ago, leaving me vulnerable to fits of temper, fearfulness, insecurity, and unexpected tears. This cup of coffee is pretty good. The morning is quite pleasant. It has become easier to begin again. 🙂
The tide is coming in. It will be high tide in a little while. Some time after I’ll do something about breakfast. The work day is ahead of me – maybe a short one? I smile and continue to sip my coffee while it is still pleasantly hot.
A sliver of moon is all that remains of the night.
I miss my Traveling Partner, but I’m sure glad I didn’t wake him with my nightmare. (That’s a terrible way to wake up!) I smile, finish this cup of coffee and consider another, as I listen to the waves crashing against the beach and feel the sea breeze pouring into the room. The air feels fresh and clean. It’s not the cold of a sparkling winter morning. The “Pineapple Express” brings storms with it, but also fairly mild temperatures, more like late Spring or early Summer. Delightful. I will definitely take a walk on the beach, later. For now, the tide robs me of beach to walk. Later will be soon enough. Right now? It’s time to begin again.
Life still happens without much regard to the planning of human beings living their limited mortal lifetimes. Like it or don’t. Plan or don’t. Circumstances will be what they are, independent of our attempts to corral them within the confines of a good plan. I say this as a woman who definitely appreciates a plan.
Before dawn at the start of a planned walk. It’s raining.
I woke early with a plan: get a walk in while my Traveling Partner sleeps, return home and complete a productive work day, hit the road headed for a couple days solo on the coast in the afternoon. Good plan and I woke excited about the day(s) ahead.
… It’s still too dark to start my walk, but it’s pretty clear that I’m likely to be still waiting for a break in the rain (and not going to get one) when daybreak comes. The rain falls steadily.
I check road conditions between here and my planned coastal destination… there is more rain and possible flooding in the forecast. For now, conditions are “fine”, although rainy, between here and there. Flooding is reported, but much further north and much further south. At least, from this early morning vantage point, I’m still on track to head to the coast to get some storm watching in, and maybe a walk on the beach…? Maybe. I intend to bring work with me, too. This is not a vacation so much as a few days of pleasant solo time while my partner works on complicated projects that benefit from focused time uninterrupted by my constant chatter, and without anyone’s feelings being hurt by lack of attention. Still, the whole thing now hinges on the weather; I can hardly drive to the coast if the roads are flooded. So, I keep an eye on the weather and the traffic cams along the route. Waiting. Wondering. Trying not to cling too tightly to my plan. Letting go of assumptions and expectations.
I sigh softly and listen to the rain fall. The sky slowly begins to lighten.
I’m already packed for my wee getaway. I contemplate other potential destinations that might meet the need in a similarly pleasant way. It’s “off season” most places in this area, but I’d be looking for quiet, which shortens the list quite quickly. The last minute planning and execution also shortens the list; it may not be the peak season for travelers and tourists, but a lot of places are full nonetheless.
The rain continues to fall, tapping on the car as if to say “excuse me, you do realize it’s raining?”. lol Yes, yes I do. Rain or no rain, plan or no plan, the day will be what it is. Soon it will be time to begin again.
Evening Light 