A Big Wet Kiss

Went with Kelly to Snoqualmie Falls today. A celebration of 26 years sober. Big by any measure, but in her life, a truer miracle. It was a rainy, foggy morning. Couldnt tell it would burn off into a decent kind of day. Usually an outstanding breakfast with views for days. Today was different. Good breakfast but the day took its sweet time.

The mist from the Falls and the fog came together to form one big wet kiss across the treetops. I could see blue patches fighting their way through the thick, damp air and in those slow-motion moments the world came quietly into soft focus. Had to strain your eyes to catch a glimpse of the water cascading down but you knew it was there.

Obvious, but then again not.

I’m pathetic. I’m torn today between soaking for an hour in a hot tub waiting for some epiphany and wanting to run away as far and fast as I can. Neither of those things would I call productive, meaningful use of time. At other times today I’ve tried to write, but I do not have, as Virginia Woolf describes, a place of one’s own. I have no sacred, quiet space. There is always the hum of my life in the background (louder when I’m not alone) to compete with. To create, one needs focus. Sound of my own making is the only acceptable sound. The whirring of my own thoughts has priority above all other things.

I’m bored. I’m bored and discouraged. Hopefully this hand nonsense is temporary and an easy fix, but it is intense. It feels like life is mocking me through my body.

And so I am just bumbling along. Looking for love and connection and maybe some validation. I’m sad in such a deep place. Sometimes it scares me a little. It feels like it is just out of my reach. I’m not able to kill it or comfort it. Maybe this is how depression takes hold. Maybe it’s like this. Like that fog meeting the mist. A big wet, slobbery kiss for no one.

I watch Kelly giving me a wide berth. Either she hasn’t a clue how to deal with me and is trusting that space is the greatest asset here or she doesn’t have a clue that I have veered so far off course.

The new year is around the corner. If I had to choose a word it would be EVOLVE. I need to evolve this year. My work situation, my  … my what ?  What do I even call what is happening in me ?  Whatever it is, it needs to evolve into another thing. It needs to rise like dough or freeze like ice or morph from a creeping caterpillar into something beautiful. No. That’s all wrong. I dont want to become a new thing. I want to continue growing into the thing I already am. The person I already am. Evolution implies growth. A natural moving forward. I don’t want new courage or a better body or any messy endings. I want to get cozy with my own courageous self. I want to love and appreciate my own changing body. I don’t want messy endings but I need to get closer to telling the truth about what does and doesnt work in my life.

Here is what I DO know, without question. I need to set some boundaries with social media. I need to set some realistic goals around writing and doing art. Even if it is only minutes a day to begin with.I need to begin exercising a little discipline. I can call myself a writer and/or artist all day long. If I’m not doing the footwork, I’m just talking. My hands are hurting and I can’t hold a pen to write ( writing longhand is my preference ). I’ll do what I can here. I’ll write every day. At least a little. I’ll keep it my own, because it will be ” a room of ones own” for me.My place.My safe zone.