Maintenance

I've had some pretty big ups and downs since I abandoned my securities and came to Colorado to start over.

On Sunday I went on an 11.5 mile hike. Hard ups, fast downs, till I left feeling nothing but exhaustion. A perfect metaphor for what being on in your own feels like. Sure, I was in the middle of 60 other climbers, and that helped me stay motivated. But it was my own reserves and training that got me all the way through that thing.

Could be poor quality of sleep that's extending my recovery. I've been wrecked emotionally for days. Irritated, short tempered, unable to conjure up small talk or pleasantries. I'm worried I might never come back around.

Friends seem distant. My job feels foreign. My face doesn't look like me. Clothes feel weird. All I want is sleep and even that is hard to get. Can't read any more news. Tv seems empty. Books hurt my eyes. Alcohol makes my head throb. Running out of my meds. Don't know if I'll be insured in a month.

Feels like being lost in the mountains, a series of false summits and no downhill in sight.

Chomping at the bit

One of the first things I learned about R is that he raises horses. He showed me photos of all 5 of them, each one rescued before being euthanized. The biggest, an enormous white female named Bella, all the way down to the most recent, Neville, whose ribs were visible when he arrived, he was so starved. I've never met a human who had any desire to do such a thing. He does it purely out of kindness. The horses don't work for him. He works for the horses. He purchases bales of hay and stores them precariously in the shed so they won't go hungry. He said the horses teach him about himself. This little tidbit had escaped me the last few days when I questioned whether he was the kind of guy I could fall for. He lives by a different set of rules, a different time table. He is ruled by the needs of his family, including his daughter, the horses, chickens and dogs. His work is never done. He doesn't go home at 2:00 to selfishly fill up on snacks, check his texts and take a nap. I do. But I'm starting to feel a shift. I have much to learn. Same as he learns about himself from being with the horses, I can learn about myself, and how to improve myself and the quality of my free time.

Starting with this. Instead of dwelling on whether he returns my texts in a reliable fashion, I will declare my gratitude that today I sent out a plea for help because my car had died. He was there with jumper cables in a matter of minutes. Checked in a couple of hours later to make sure I got home ok. A worthwhile interaction, in so few words. A hug. The knowledge that he is listening and there was no question he would be there when I needed him. A signal from the universe to stop spinning in my old patterns and follow the goodness that shined on me in my time of need.