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.

…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.