This morning I took a walk in the cold of the frosty morning, just as daybreak arrived. No pictures. Just walking with my thoughts, and taking care that I didn’t slip on an icy surface along the way. Now I’m home, sipping coffee, sitting here with my thoughts. Same thoughts? Same thoughts. I am thinking about good and evil, right and wrong, and the excuses we make. I’m thinking about the inexcusable horror of war and how terrible and pointless it is. I’m thinking about inspiration, and things I’ve seen that I’d like to put on canvas. I keep the sound turned down low on the playlist I’m listening to, in case my Traveling Partner calls out from the other room to get my help with anything, while he recovers from an injury.
…There’s a bit of grocery shopping to plan, an errand to run, and I’m overdue to finally unpack from my trip to the coast (which now seems so long ago). There are dishes to do. Meals to plan. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Life. Adulthood. Taking care of things that take care of me. Sometimes it seems pretty fucking endless, ridiculously repetitive and without any lasting outcome of value. Processes and practices work that way, I suppose. I take a breath, feeling my fingers dance across the keyboard as my thoughts flow across my awareness and on past. I exhale, still finding contentment in these simple things. It’s enough, generally…
I saw a gorgeous sunrise while I was on the coast, and it’s the sort of sight that fills my thoughts for days and lingers in my recollections. Such sunrises are the stuff of inspiration, for me. Sunrises are a little on the nose as metaphors for new beginnings, but there it is; simple and true. Believable. Real.
Begin again.
I breathe, exhale, relax, and look over the many pictures I took on my recent coastal getaway. I spent most of that time working, and so most of the pictures are of the view from the balcony or windows of the hotel room where I stayed for 4 days, with a handful taken on this or that walk on the beach on a lunch break, or some opportune moment when the tide was low. It was time well-spent. I reflect on the time, now, hoping to prevent the nurturing emotional gains of rest, resilience, and introspection from slipping away in the chaos of returning home to an injured partner, and the busy whirlwind of pre-holiday life, generally. Breathe in. Breathe out. Look at the next picture. Repeat.
My Traveling Partner asks about breakfast sandwiches and whether I might make some…? It’s time to begin again.
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.
A new day dawns.
…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.
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. 😀
I’m in a pleasant place, at the end of a pleasant day. It’s been a lovely break from the routine, and I’ve enjoyed it. Doesn’t do anything to improve the pain I’m in, that’s just real, and as much as possible I’m past letting it call my shots in life(except when it just does) – but it doesn’t mean I’m not in pain. Here’s the thing, though… we’re each having our own experience, and pain (or suffering) is part of the human condition. (Wait around long enough, you’ll get yours.) (And, I’m sorry in advance, cuz it’s definitely going to be a thing, if it isn’t already.)
I’m in pain. My Traveling Partner is also in pain. We have different pain, and different reasons why. We both hurt, and it can be super annoying. Pain tends to shrink one’s world down to just the pain we experience, ourself. It’s very human to filter someone’s shared experience through the lens of our own lived experience – without any reason to assume that these might be at all similar (they’re often not sufficiently similar to justify that approach). It makes for shitty listeners and a poor experience when seeking support. 😦 I remind myself to do better.
I’m sure we’ve both done all the things we know to do when we’re in pain. Doesn’t really do more than maybe improve things a bit. Doesn’t treat the underlying condition or cause. Doesn’t result in a uniformly pleasant experience from that point. Doesn’t make communicating about it any easier. Neither does being apart. Quite the contrary, being apart when we want support from our partner is extra frustrating. Not ideal for communication – or pain management. Stress amplifies pain. Pain causes stress.
Human primates being human primates, we tend to make some pretty stupid assumptions (and then act upon those instead of something we can confirm is truly the case) when we’re stressed, frustrated, hurt, or hurting. It’s no wonder I like the occasional getaway all alone; human primates vex me. (All of them, pretty reliably, at some point.) I’m not any better, being that I’m also a human primate. This evening I am, in fact, vexed with myself and my ongoing very human communication challenges. It sucks and I’m cross about it. How the fuck do I so reliably say things that I think demonstrate how much I care, only to have the person I’m speaking to behave as though I’ve been ignorant, insensitive, or just somehow wrong? Super annoying. I’d definitely like to do better.
I’d like to do more to “be there” for my Traveling Partner. I failed pretty seriously, and I think all I was really being asked to do was listen for awhile. That should be easier. (I definitely need more practice.) Over text, my communication challenges are complicated by how much slower I type out a text than my partner does. (I also tend to do several edits or rewrites of a response, and often still working on that, seeking to be careful with my words, considerate, wise… and then his messages start stacking up, and I’m not yet done with the first reply. Awkward. By the time I hit send, what I’ve said no longer makes sense. It’s problematic, and I definitely think conversations that require care and consideration do best irl rather than as text messages. Just my opinion, my experience. I want to help support him, and help him get the support he needs (or treatment) to be really well through and through. I also want that for myself, but don’t know how to get it. It’s hard, sometimes.
…Some things don’t have a tidy diagnosis with a conveniently positive resolution…
Now I’m distracted and annoyed by this situation, and struggling to focus on my book at all. I breathe, exhale, relax, check my meds – yep. Time for the next round. I sigh out loud. A few minutes ago my partner was telling me how much he misses me. I wonder if that’s still true right now? I hope we both sleep well and get good rest, and wake up in less pain. That’d be nice for both of us.
It’s evening. Already time to begin again.
…………..
I rarely “follow-up later”. This is me doing that. Hours later. I’m still in pain. He’s still in pain. We’re still apart from each other, and it’s… night. I miss him. He misses me. A few terse words and a bit of misunderstanding don’t change that (even when it may feel, momentarily, that it might). A quick reset – a chance to “begin again” – isn’t just a phrase. It’s a practice. I took some time, got past my bullshit. Distracted myself in a healthy way to avoid ruminating over bullshit. I “broke the spiral”, and got my evening back on track.
I’m tired, but not yet sleepy. I finished one book, and took time to sit with that world and its adventures, for a little while. I’d go to sleep, but I’ve had an “unfortunate amount” of coffee (4 cups? Maybe 5?) – and yes, it likely affects my ability to fall asleep quickly at my usual somewhat early hour. All good. I’ll rest, anyway. Maybe start the next book…? Then finally, get some sleep.
I’m eager to return home. Another opportunity to begin again. 😀
How utterly ordinary this seems. Me, a cup of coffee, a dark early morning awake ahead of the sun… I could have slept in… if I could have slept in. lol I’m not even disappointed; I woke rested and uncertain of the time. By the time I had gotten up to pee and also found a means of checking the time, I was quite wide awake and feeling that a new day had begun. I tried to go back to bed, but that lasted only minutes; I was clearly awake. So. Coffee time. 😀
Once I had made a cup of coffee, I shut off the lights and opened the curtains, the better to see the changing light as day breaks. For now, all is dark and quiet. At home, in the heart of agriculture and rural industries, this is not a particularly early hour. There would be some traffic on the road and the highway, and evidence of businesses preparing to open, most cafes and coffee stops would already be bustling with folks heading to work, or places unknown – even on a Saturday, there’d be some traffic and people coming and going. (It’s not that early, just early enough to still be dark on a December morning.) Here? In a seaside tourist town? It may as well be deserted. Rarely, cars roll down the highway. I see few headlights pass by “out there” beyond the window, beyond the bay, where the highway follows the curves of the hills beyond. No house windows are lit up, yet. No sounds come from other rooms. It’s quiet. Dark, quiet, early, this is still a day filled with promise and not much else quite yet. It’s more than an hour until sun rise.
…Good cup of coffee…
I slept well and deeply last night, and my dreams were untroubled, and unremembered now. Easy night. I hope my Traveling Partner got some rest. I wish him well from afar. As it turns out, this coastal getaway ends up being largely wasted with regard to the primary reason for going in the first place, which was to give my partner room to work. He’s been in pain and not easily able to work at all. Fucking hell. How unfortunate – and how unfair! Nonetheless, this is also time that greatly benefits me directly, and my emotional wellness is bolstered and supported with it. Already paid for, so I make a point to enjoy it, to savor it, and to take advantage of it fully without any guilt or awkwardness. I help him by coming home feeling well and merry, far more than if I rush back anxiously – and wastefully. 🙂
I sip my coffee and reflect on the day ahead. This is my one day on the coast (on this trip) that is not to do with work in any way. I’m free to enjoy the day as I’d like, whatever that means. I don’t yet know. Walk on the beach? Prowl antique shops as yet unexplored? A leisurely brunch somewhere? Laze the day away reading books? Some of all those things? I don’t know. I relish the feeling of luxury that comes of a momentary recognition that if I wanted to, I could just go back to bed and get more sleep. My time is my own, and that feels quite lovely.
I sip my coffee and explore that feeling of luxury. It dawns on me (maybe not for the first time) what a real treat that feeling of my time being my own actually is. Human beings are social creatures. We work and play collaboratively. We create and make and labor in partnerships, teams, groups, and communities. We are industrious as global enterprises. We live as families. My love of solitude is the oddity, not the norm, and in all likelihood it’s a byproduct of my chaos and damage, my trauma, and the resulting lack of enjoyment I take from society, generally… probably. I know my Traveling Partner misses me deeply when I’m away, sometimes to the point of depression. I miss him, too, but… day-to-day, I often find myself missing… this. The solitude. The quiet that allows me more room to “hear myself think”. The stillness that becomes a beautiful space to write, or paint. The freedom to simply be – without disturbing or inconveniencing anyone else with my quirks or my anxiety. So, this morning I merrily raise my coffee mug to the dark sky beyond the window, as if to say “here’s to the luxury of a couple days of solitude!” – if I haven’t “earned” it, nonetheless, I sure do enjoy it. I’m grateful for a partnership sufficiently secure to permit it as often as I do get to enjoy it. I make a point to sit with that gratitude awhile, listening to the ocean waves as the tide comes in.
…This cup of coffee is finished. I make another. I see the note that I left for myself by the coffee machine. It says “go easy on the coffee, you’ll want to sleep later!” A reminder from me to myself. I often do drink too much coffee when I’m indulging myself with some getaway or when I’m camping. It rarely seems to be a problem, the way it definitely is when I’m home living a routine ordinary life of habit and calendar. I have no idea why there’s such a difference. Maybe there isn’t? Maybe it’s an illusion? I consider whether to spend more time on that, and decide it’s unimportant. I make another coffee and move on with my thoughts.
The sky begins to lighten, ever so slightly shifting toward a dark subtly blue gray. The cars on the highway begin to pass in occasional clusters. High tide is still a bit more than two hours away, and will occur well after sun rise, which is only an hour away now. For now, just the earliest hint of dawn appears. The specificity of the language we have to describe these experiences delights me. It’s somehow very telling of the importance to human primates of the coming of a new day, that we can so clearly describe its coming using words, in such detail.
On the highway, across the bay, I see taillights just stopped there. I know that spot – there’s a pull out right there, with access to the mudflats at low tide. There are a trio of large rocks jutting out of the bay near there. The spot is called (on the map) “Freedom Rock”. It’s too dark to go down to the bay from the highway, still. It’s also almost high tide; there’s no where to go (it’s covered with water). I see that car continue to sit, lights on, then shut off the lights. I imagine some other version of me – or some similar sort of individual – sitting there in their car, waiting for enough daylight to go for some walk. It seems familiar and reasonable, and the thought pleases me. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. I wonder if they will be disappointed when daylight reveals the lack of any point in waiting at that spot? lol
Just barely dawn; a pointless photograph.
The sky is just starting to evolve from the darkness of night to the dim light of dawn. Another few minutes, and it will be possible to take a picture without using night settings. Another cup of coffee will be consumed. My email account will sync and my app notifications will begin pinging me. Day will begin. I’m reminded to take my morning medications, and snarl quietly and not very seriously as I head over to the counter where I left them. “Aging sucks…”
I take time for yoga and meditation, then go downstairs to the breakfast bar adjacent to the lobby for a light bite of breakfast. I’m not overly eager to be out in the world, among people, so perhaps a sit down breakfast in a restaurant is not an ideal choice, this morning? No obligation to be fancy or lavish with my spending, and I’m pretty easily satisfied with a yogurt cup and a toasted English muffin. I turn my eyes toward the window just in time to see the horizon infused with shades of strawberry and peach… I jump to catch a shot of it, stubbing my toe painfully on the way…
The sort of sight worth 4 days in a hotel room.
A minute later and I’d have missed it altogether. The sky has returned to a rather featureless rainy day gray once again. Worth the stubbed toe. Worth 4 days in a hotel room. It was a gorgeous sight and the picture hardly captures it at all. I sip my coffee contemplating which pigments I would choose to capture that view on canvas. If I’d painted such a thing, in such vibrant colors, before seeing this view myself, I would hardly be surprised if someone else seeing that painting assumed I’d taken artistic liberties with the colors. lol
I sigh happily and finish my second cup of coffee, my yogurt, and my English muffin. My Traveling Partner pings me – he’s awake now too. It’s a new day. The sun has risen, though there’s no visible sign of it beside the daylight itself. I’ve still no particular idea what I’ll do with the day, and it has begun to rain softly. Antique stores and books are winning out over beach walks, presently, but the tide will begin to recede sometime after 09:00, plenty of time to consider walking on beaches later on.
Plan or no plan, I find myself ready to begin again. 😀
Evening Light 