Odd morning. Not a bad one at all, just a profound departure from the routine. For one thing, I overslept my artificial sunrise, and woke to the full brightness of the lights in the room, 10 minutes or so later than intended, and far later than typical. I woke in considerable pain, and very stiff, feeling like I’d been sleeping in the same strange position “all night”, with a stiff neck and back. Awkward. I moved slowly through my morning routine, almost leaving the house without putting my shoes on. I arrived at the trailhead emotionally prepared to walk, but feeling less than ideally eager to do so – the crick in my neck was still really super painful (and still is). Rough. I got a short walk in, then headed to the office to… work?
First I sipped coffee. Then I read my email. I watched a couple videos without really paying attention, then listened to some music. It’s been a weird morning. I pulled my attention back to work, and got some things done, now I’m distracted and a bit irritable because somewhere, someone is vacuuming something rather loudly, and the noise is carried through the building – a high pitched whine that I could seriously do without. What a peculiar morning.
I make another cup of coffee. The noise of the vacuuming finally stops. My neck still aches, but I’m not in a bad mood over it. I look at the picture of the Giftmas tree that I snapped this morning on my way to work for some reason – just pure childlike delight, I suppose. I grin to myself happily in spite of the pain in my neck. It’ll pass, eventually. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Only two days to the Winter Solstice. Only a week until Giftmas. Just 13 days to an entirely new year year. Wow. 2025 already here? How the hell did that happen “so fast”? Was I just distracted with the work of worrying and caregiving all year long? Damn. Life feels pretty good right now. This moment right here? Quite a nice one. I smile and take it all in, and sit with these positive hopeful feelings awhile. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again, practicing practices, and walking my path. For now though, this moment is enough.
It’s a routine Monday morning, more or less. Small details deviating from the expected norms don’t change that. The weekend was strange and somewhat unfulfilling, and already feels like part of a distant past. I shrug off the bits that seem lacking and hold on to what worked.
“Stormy Sunset” 7″x 9.5″, 2024
I didn’t get as much painting done as I expected of myself. I found my heart elsewhere, over and over again, gazing out over the sea thinking of long gone friends and loved ones and letting unshed tears finally fall. It was a most peculiar and deeply emotional weekend, and although it was cut short, I was happy to see my Traveling Partner and to return safely home.
… Funny how reality can veer off our oh so carefully made plans…
I hear my partner’s voice in my memory, “I hope you got what you needed, at least…?” Did I? I don’t know – probably? I definitely needed something. To reconnect with myself more deeply, I think? I got that…or something very like it. Good enough. Sometimes it’s necessary to accept sufficiency and be content with it.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a Monday. A work day. The ringing in my ears is fucking ridiculous. The pain I’m in from my arthritis is enormously distracting and I am uncomfortable. Still, in spite of all that, I feel okay. It’s funny how much it matters to me that my partner was so concerned to ensure I have room to paint at home. He missed me greatly and doesn’t want me to feel that I have to leave to paint. I feel loved and appreciated, which matters more than the pain I’m in.
I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, even though it’s already time to begin again.
This morning I slept in. It was lovely and restful. I mostly slept through the night, which is rare. My dreams, though, were vivid and sometimes disturbing. I woke in pain, and as soon as I sat up tears began to fall. I was still too disoriented from deep sleep to be certain of any sort of cause, maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe pain is enough reason to weep, sometimes. The gulls call to each other outside the window as they fly by. Yesterday’s storms have passed. It’s a new day – another stormy looking day with heavy gray clouds on the horizon.
Dawn of a new day. I remind myself to stay on the path.
This whole trip to the coast has been a strange one. I’ve spent it in tremendous pain, which I mostly ignore, once I’ve done what I can. I came for solitude, and creative work, and emotional rest, and I guess it’s mostly met most of my needs, most of the time, sort of, but in a limited, inefficient, and dissatisfying way. My Traveling Partner reaches out to me regularly, once he’s up for the day. He’s bored and lonely without me. It’s a limited sort of solitude I’m finding here, spent in the text-based company of my partner on the other end of my 21st century digital leash. I love him, and don’t want him to feel alone or abandonned, so I answer every ping I hear, often so quickly it could be called “real-time communication”. I cherish his words, and I’m frustrated by my feeling of being… whatever the opposite of “lonely” is. Crowded? Is there is a word for this feeling the lovers of solitude feel when they can’t escape the consciousnesses and communications of others? I don’t think I know the word for it. “Impinged upon” seems needlessly cumbersome. Surely there is some more elegant beautifully precise term?
Why is it so difficult for me to keep some of my time for myself, to use as I wish, without interruption or the involvement of others? Is it an unreasonable desire? Why does it so often seem that whatever I plan, try as I might, the world behaves as though my consciousness, my attention, and my availability for this or that task simply doesn’t belong to me at all? I’ve said it out loud in therapy a hundred times, “it feels like everyone wants a piece of me, and there’s nothing left over for me”. I ache with the frustration, the struggle to find some real peace, alone with my thoughts. I struggle to set clear reasonable boundaries, and reinforce and respect them, without being a jerk about it. I remind myself that I am loved. Valued. Appreciated. That my effort and presence matter that much, that I’m hard to be without. All pretty good stuff as far as it goes…but sometimes I just want to be alone for awhile. Alone with my pain. Alone with my tears. Alone with my time. Alone with myself. Present for and with myself, only. It’s fucking hard to find or make that time.
This break isn’t “a vacation”. It’s intended to be a short period of recovery from the ceaseless demands on my time, my presence, and my effort. It’s intended to be a short time spent on my own needs, caring for myself, before I work myself into the ground caring for others. Caregiving is fucking hard. This particular break hasn’t been as helpful or as restful as I had hoped it would be, and at least right now, as I sit with my coffee, it feels a bit like wasted time. Perhaps drinking coffee through tears is not the best moment to assign value to an experience, though? I hear a grim bitter chuckle – my own voice – break the stillness of morning. I’m not in a very good mood right now, although there’s nothing actually “wrong”, besides just being in pain and being cranky over how hard it is to get some needs met in life. These aren’t even new challenges. Perhaps that’s why I’m so cross? I suppose I expect that after all these years of being who I am, I’d have figured this shit out more skillfully by now? Will there come a day when I find myself alone and regretting my solitary ways? (It seems possible, but not at all likely.)
Between headaches, and arthritis pain, pings from my partner and my awareness of his loneliness in my absence, this particular coastal adventure hasn’t been much “fun” – for any values of fun. It’s barely been restful, and even that only in a physical way. Fucking hell, I’ve got to figure this shit out. I feel like my sanity depends on it…
A gift from a dear friend, a memory.
…I miss my Dear Friend. I’d share my vexation with her, and she’d share her perspective with me. She’d maybe make me laugh, or point back to something I said, myself, some time ago that still rings true even now. She’d share a cat story, or a recipe she remembers but can’t have anymore. She’d be there. I’d be here – and I’d feel heard and understood. She did as much to “raise me” as my Granny or my Mother, actually. Our friendship of almost 30 years is woven into the fabric of the woman I have become. In a sense, she’ll always be with me. I still manage to miss her. I miss her perspective and wisdom. I miss her understanding. Of all the human beings I’ve ever known, she seemed to understand my love of solitude more than any other. I miss that.
I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. The journey is the destination. The way out is through. Like a painting that hasn’t quite turned out, this particular weekend has been unsatisfying and feels incomplete. It has its own sort of beauty and worthiness, I suppose, but it feels unfinished and not quite right. Aphorisms and metaphors; I’m doing my best to care for the woman in the mirror. I feel like I’m letting her down. I sigh and watch the gulls beyond the window. I’ll finish this coffee, I guess, and begin again.
The truck has a different kind of comfort and offers a different point of view – new perspective on a familiar scene. I sit waiting for the sun, but it’s a choice; I’ve been getting my walks in early with my headlamp. It’s fine. I don’t prefer it, but I still enjoy the walk and the time with my thoughts in the pre-dawn quiet.
This morning a full moon lights the way.
I slept deeply through the night and woke from my dreams with some difficulty. I dragged myself groggily through my morning routine, and made coffee for my Traveling Partner before I quietly left the house. The entire time I kept reminding myself to take the truck, instead of my Mazda. lol I’m due to take the truck in to have the new roof rack installed; all the parts are finally in. This morning I’ll begin the work day from the lobby of the dealership service department. lol I don’t mind, it’s just another difference.
It’s Friday. I’m so glad – I’m really tired. It’s been, somehow, a crazy week. I feel fortunate and grateful, though; the coordinated efforts of my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer have given me a break from the continuous grind of caring for family, hearth, and home. It’s a relief to have help. Dinner was especially good last night, and I didn’t have to plan it, cook it, or clean up. I even managed to spend some time tidying up my personal space, reducing the clutter that had begun to accumulate over recent weeks (which had likely been contributing to my background stress).
I gaze at the moon awhile, lost in my thoughts. My partner pings me a good morning greeting. I feel very loved.
There are no great insights to be found in this post. No painful moment of drama or chaos being sorted out. No guidance being offered. It’s a different sort of morning, and I am savoring the moment, content with it as it is. This sort of lovely moment is the payoff of all the practicing. lol Definitely worth taking time to simply be, and to enjoy it as it is.
Daybreak will come soon, and when it does, I’ll begin again.
I had some trouble sleeping again, last night. My anxiety flared up in the background, too. I managed to get enough rest, and eventually slept the rest of the night. What’s up with me, I wonder? Could be nothing. It’s a very human sort of experience.
I sit with my thoughts. It’s early. A new day unfolds ahead of me. Stuff to do. I sigh quietly. I’m having to manage more pain with greater attention (and medication), now that fall has come. Rainy chilly days reliably mean more pain. It is… routine. My morning alarm goes off. Time for meds. Another sigh, then a big breathe and slow exhale.
My head aches. I try to ignore it and think about how lovely yesterday evening was, in spite of my fatigue. I watch the traffic rolling by from my vantage point at the parking lot by the trailhead. I’ve got time to get a short walk before work, though I’ll be on my way to the office before the sun rises.
I sigh and stretch and finish lacing up my boots. It’s enough to begin again. I’m fortunate that I have that chance.
Evening Light 