Leaning Into It

 I realize I'm making a big deal of this anniversary.  Well, I want to.  The Golden Anniversary, 50 years, is a big one.

I've learned different ways of coping over the last 3.5 years.  When and where necessary, you suppress/distract.  You go through the motions, do what needs to be done.  But full-time suppression and denial isn't mentally healthy.  Hence, the "leaning into it."

I keep remembering one of my scuba diving experiences.  There was a place on the island that we could only dive when the weather was good and the waves coming from a certain direction because it was very rocky, sharp lava.  This one day, being quite lovely, we had a large group dive.  But the weather and waves switched while we were out, with the waves crashing against the rocks.  Those who could made it to shore, ditched their gear, and then, holding hands extended a human chain into the water to help the others out.

It only took me a few crashing waves to realize that if I fought this (at the time I was maybe 16 years old and weighed about 110 pounds) I would get picked up and smashed against the rocks.  The trick was to give in; swim like crazy between the waves, and then when you felt the surge coming in, simply flatten yourself against a boulder and let the wave break over you,

And that's where I am now.  A big wave is coming, and I'm going to flatten out, let it wash over me, and then be able to go on. 

I'm prepared.  I have a small beef filet for my dinner.  I bought a cake today (dulce de leche tres leches).  I also bought a bottle of my favorite Kraken black rum.  I bought some pastries for breakfast.

I dug out the 50-year-old bottle of blackberry wine.

If I'm still awake in an hour, when it's officially the 25th, I'll open it.  If not, some time tomorrow.

I saw Chris at work today; she came in because a group is having a two-day conference in one of the museum meeting rooms and she had to come set it up.  I wished I could have hugged her, held her.  I could see her pain.  I didn't - because I know that she is fragile and trying to hold herself together and could be easily broken.  She said she had been thinking of me, knowing that I had gone through this.  I saw her falter, and all I could offer was "Breathe."

So that's it.  I'm going to read, have a glass of wine (maybe - it might be only suitable for pouring down the drain) and spend one last night on the couch.  Tomorrow I will cocoon.  Then it's pick up the bootstraps again and forge on.