This morning I woke gently, but confused. It took me a minute to sort out what day it is, and that my plan is quite different from my usual Thursday. I struggled to wake up thoroughly, and had to trek back down the hall twice for things I forgot.

The drive to this nature park I enjoy walking in was strange, too. So little traffic it was quite a surreal (and also relaxed) drive along a route that is generally part of my commute. What little traffic there was, was peculiarly professional, civil, and safe, moving along with purposeful efficiency, and no aggression. Maybe there is hope for humanity?

As I crested a hill, going around a particular curve, the view of Mt Hood spread before me briefly, silhouetted gray-blue against a smudgey peach-colored sunrise. Beautiful. I considered stopping… I always do. Consider it, I mean. I haven’t ever actually stopped at that spot; there’s no shoulder there, really, just a private driveway and traffic is moving pretty fast for those kind of shenanigans. Still, I feel fortunate to have seen that view, those colors, and gotten to enjoy the moment as I passed on by.

I walked as the sun rose, watching the sky change from peach to gold to blue. There are mists clinging to the ground in low spots along the river and marsh. I can hear the highway traffic beyond the park, and the sounds of little birds in the trees and grasses along the trail. A small herd of deer cross the path ahead of me, fearlessly curious at that distance. The morning sunlight reaches the trees and the leaves become luminous, seeming to glow. It’s a lovely morning.

I walked along grateful for new beginnings and new days. Today is, so far, much better than yesterday. I still have no idea what the hell was biting my ass yesterday, but g’damn I was in an ugly mood. I spent the evening after work willfully fighting off my inner unpleasantness and making the effort needed to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s good company. It was, for the most part, a successful attempt to fight off my shitty mood. At one point, he “caught me” in my own head, distracted by my thoughts, and asked me what I was thinking about. Rather oddly, I was considering the complex pattern of a particular rug, rather randomly. Strange. Inconsequential. Probably not very satisfying as an answer to the question “what are you thinking about “. Honestly, it was just another way of distracting myself from my shit mood, which was characterized mostly by a distinct sense of just “not wanting to have to deal with people” at all.

…I’m glad I find myself in a more pleasant place today…

I’m frankly not the most social of creatures. My brain injury results in a certain lack of ability to shut the fuck up, often, and I tend to be a bit of a chatterbox as a result. If there are people around, I have no problem interacting with them. (My challenges are more to do with controlling my speech, recognizing social cues, and listening considerately.) I cherish my solitude, and I enjoy it (and truly need it). It’s hard on me when circumstances give me no time alone. (I sigh contentedly,  sitting here by the river in the morning sunshine, writing these words… thoroughly alone, and happy to be.) Lately, and in spite of occasional getaways, I feel “encroached upon” and crowded by people and commitments and the awareness that there’s precious little time for “everything “. There’s a sense that the clock is ticking – and always has been – and I’m struggling to give myself the space I need to truly thrive.

…Maybe I need to spend time in the studio, painting?

I glance at my watch… it’s time to head back to the car. I’ve got an appointment to get to, and errands to run. I’ve got a partner to care for, and dishes to do. It’s time to begin again.