It’s been a week since my airport misadventure with food-poisoning. I’m home. The holiday weekend is behind me. The work trip to Palm Springs is a handful of memories and photographs. I’m finally back on all the various medications I currently take, and back to my proper timing on those. I’m fully hydrated. I’m getting back into the gym starting tomorrow morning. Life is good.
…Why am I so fucking grumpy and cross with the world, today?? I feel like I’m taking all the right steps… all the right medications… I smile, sipping my afternoon cup of (decaf) coffee. It’s that, isn’t it? It’s the medications. I’m literally “on drugs” and it does actually take a day or two to settle down into that routine all over again, even after a minor disruption. It’s something we often don’t give much thought to. Mind-altering drugs? That’s all the damned drugs, people. Yes, and the coffee. And the Tylenol. All of it. All. Of. It. Changing your chemistry has the potential to change your mood – and your mind. So.
Take another sip of coffee. I breathe, exhale, relax. I look at the clock. The work day is nearing an end. My Traveling Partner rather sweetly made afternoon/evening plans to make room for me to just deal with my own bullshit without it becoming our bullshit. I feel loved. Understood.
In games, life, and yeah, even self-care… my results vary. Practicing various practices isn’t about practicing as much as it is about improving. It’s about results. Lacking skill in one area or another is definitely going to mean I need more practice. lol Sometimes it’s just necessary to keep at it until I “git gud“. My results still vary. The journey is the destination. There’s no map. No “report card”. No one else to prove something to.
…Even with self-care, sometimes I just don’t “have what it takes” – yet. I need more practice (or better or different practices). I am sitting here reflecting on that, and drinking water on a hot summer day, from inside a cool air-conditioned office, looking down from the 7th floor to the sun lit city below me. My recent work trip to Palm Springs lingers in my thoughts. I spent a lot of time with my colleagues. More people (and time) than I typically spend on such things in a many weeks. Hell, I don’t spend a fraction of that amount of time (more than 40 hours by far) with even my dearest friends over the course of the average year. In fact, although we live together and spend the vast majority of our waking hours together, I don’t spend that much time with my own beloved Traveling Partner! Wtf. I am seriously “all peopled out” at this point. I’m craving actual solitude. It is affecting my mood.
…I was so close to getting some of that after we bought the truck, but it was a bit early for solo camping in nearby forest places at that point, and so my partner only managed to leave me to my own devices for a few hours, a couple times…
So I’m sitting here, thinking my thoughts, drinking my water, and wondering if I should be planning a bit of a solo getaway, and feeling like a jerk for it because I know my partner has probably had about enough of being alone, as far as what he may need out of my comings and goings. This is a challenge I rather suck at figuring out. So, I sit and think on it a bit, and then a bit more even than that…
…still thinking it over…
…What do I want out of such an adventure? Ease? Solitude? Trails to hike? Sunsets to photograph? Distance from other people – yeah, that one is for sure on my “must haves” list. lol Should I be planning to “go coastal”? Should I be planning to camp? How much time do I really need? Does that vary based on how much (feeling of) distance I can actually get? July has just one weekend open at this point during which none of my colleagues would be out of the office… convenient… I decide to request the time, and continue to think about what to do with it.
I finish off my water, and prepare to begin again.
Here it is, the fourth of July. A holiday, of sorts, in the United States of America. Our national independence, we say, begins here. It doesn’t, actually, but that’s the story we tell nonetheless. Today, folks will party, BBQ with friends and family, and perhaps go blow some shit up or fire off some rounds, maybe lose a finger, a hand, an eye, a family member, or set off a massive blazing wildfire. Peculiar sort of celebration.
…”Can’t you just let people have fun, damn?!”… Yeah, okay. Moving on.
I’m in a shit mood this morning. Wakened from my sleep by an equally cross partner who could not sleep due to my snoring. It was a less than ideal start to my day, and it’s been unremarkable (if a bit aggravating) since then. I’m in pain – for some reason my arthritis has flared up and I have a vicious headache. Seems like the day will be quite a hot one, so I got my walk in early – and now my feet hurt. So. Yeah. I’m mostly in the mood to bitch about this or that, and less inclined to celebrate my “independence” – although, I do have more to celebrate around this time of year than a lot of folks.
Independence Day also happens to be the 28th anniversary of leaving my violent first husband at long last and for good. I survived! That is something worth celebrating. So much so that for many years, I made a point of saying things on 4th of July like “thank you for joining me in the celebration of the end of my first marriage” to anyone who happened along. lol I eventually gave up the practice – time and distance had offered some opportunity to heal.
Independence Day is also – or at least the weekend of, was – when my Traveling Partner and I moved into our little house here, finally homeowners, with a place our of own and a sense of a fixed address and a reason to “put down roots”. Also very much worth celebrating. I’ll shortly be getting back to that. 😀
Our personal celebrations have so much real meaning and heart. Don’t give up on your independence. Break your chains! Take the bold step in favor of yourself. Move forward and move on. Be free! It’s Independence Day.
I crashed fairly late last night after a noisy final dinner with colleagues at an excellent local Mexican restaurant. It was a bit “fancy”. A lot noisy. The conversations were lively. The mood was merry. I returned to the hotel still “vibrating” on that frequency and needed to take some quiet time on the patio in the moonlight, with my feet up. I connected with my Traveling Partner. I am eager to return home. He is eager to see me again.
A flower in the desert.
The team spa day, yesterday, was lovely and relaxed. I got an excellent massage. By the end of the day I noticed my feet and ankles were fairly swollen. It’s mostly the heat. In spite of drinking ample water (like for real)(a lot), I felt uncomfortably… puffy. It’s the heat, here. I had the same issue in other hot places, and I’m certain after seeing a new doctor that my various health concerns are likely related – or aggravating each other. I sat outside by the pool after dinner for some little while; it was the most comfortable place to sit with my feet up, sufficiently elevated to be really helpful. I put my ankle brace on my left ankle. I drank more water.
I crashed fairly late (for me), around 11:30 pm. I slept fairly well… until 02:52 am. I don’t know what woke me. The night was quiet. The room was dark. I got up to pee, but there was no urgency in doing so. I returned to bed and spent an hour or so adjusting the pillows as if I were going to return to sleep – I really wanted to. I even felt sleepy, but it just wasn’t happening. My mind was grinding through all the conversations of the week, over-thinking this and that, reflecting on some positives, and feeling irked about some shit that vexed me, while also making a point to let it go. And then let it go, again.
I finally got up at 04:30, finished my packing and laid out my clothes. I made coffee. Opened a can of cold fizzy water. Pulled my laptop back out of my “rolling office” bag and sat down to write and reflect, waiting for the dawn, and considering what to do about my last breakfast here… go back to that excellent breakfast restaurant…? Can I make the timing work and not miss my flight…? The restaurant doesn’t open until 08:00… my flight doesn’t leave until 11:15… the airport is only 2.4 miles from the restaurant…but… it doesn’t at all seem the sort of place one would drag luggage to, so I’d be having to return to the hotel, then go to the airport… I find myself working backward from my departure time, and mentally calculating how long I’d likely be having breakfast. I find myself feeling fairly certain I’d have an entire hour for breakfast, then wondering how long it took me the other day, the morning I enjoyed breakfast on my own. Looks like I spent almost exactly one hour at breakfast that morning… Feeling certain I could, if I wish, I let it go for now; I can decide later. It’s still very early.
I’m ready to go home.
I’m also ready for breakfast. LOL
…I’m less than ideally ready for morning, somehow. I’ll no doubt feel better after a cool shower (it is, after all, the fucking desert here). I drink my coffee and my water, and get ready to begin again.
I am sleepy. Night has settled in. I am up later than most nights. This is quiet time of another sort. Soon I will (most likely) sleep. Will I wake restless, later? I don’t know. Will I struggle to find sleep in the first place? It doesn’t seem likely to be the case, but it’s possible. It wouldn’t even be uncommon. I have challenges with getting sufficient healthy restful sleep. (I type those words and a yawn splits my face and fills my eyes with tear drops that wet my lashes but don’t fall.) I contemplate a shower before bed to rinse off the sweat and sunscreen – it would feel lovely.
I notice a bug bite on the back of my hand and wonder “when did that happen?”, then also notice that the sun has warmed my skin with a bit of a glow, but has also made some irregularities in pigmentation a bit more obvious. Signs of aging. I smile and shrug it off as unimportant – or at least uninteresting. It’s been a hell of an interesting week, so far, and fussing over texture or pigmentation of my hands seems rather pointless, honestly. I find myself fighting sleep as I listen to music my Traveling Partner shared with me. The music is Dvořák. The featured cellist is Jacqueline du Pré. The year the video was recorded is listed as 1968. The music sounds familiar. Why wouldn’t it? It’s Dvořák. lol
The last notes die away and leave me with this quiet. It’s a lovely quite moment before I end the day with sleep. I am sleepy.
