Journal Excerpt

Late May 2024

This week of waiting is always the worst part. When the commitment is made, but not yet acted out. This is the time when I begin to question without fail. Am I being too rash? Am I ready to face this challenge?

It’s always the dread of the missed last chance of bailing out of insanity. The creeping, hissing voice, whispering softly in the darkest parts of my days and nights.
”Remember. You’re asking for this.”

It’s true.
A thousand fragmented lives shoot off the fracture lines of my life. What if’s and circumstances. But choices were made, promises to others, deals to myself. No one is making me do this. Yet, I don’t feel ready to face it, any other way.

The first night I slept in my car, I had been terrified of the moment. Uncertain prospects, pride, a desperate need for a safe, familiar place. The first place I pulled over was a semi-used gravel pit filled with bones. Vertebra, thighs, hoofs and tufts of fur. But there were no skulls, or pelvises.

The second place I stopped beside a river, ice cold where I bathed, washing my hair. Kneeling in grass and sand on the bank. The first time I laid outto sleep, was the first time I’d ever lain out in my jeep. I’d been too afraid to try it before I left. Of the reality hitting me.

It’s here.

the moment. the night. the reality of my situation sunk into my chest with a sigh.

It was over.

the moment had come and gone, and I was still breathing. Yes, the moment came, and I’m not dead yet. More like it will come, and I will survive them again.

I’m tired of catching myself doom-scrolling. Mindlessly staring by my thumb. I grew up without WiFi, and I turned out okay. (Kinda)

I have hobbies that I learned from childhood, I have a credit card now when I walk into a bookstore. I have sketch books with empty pages. I have an island to camp on.

When my life is a little more difficult, how much sweeter will the good times be to savor? what ways will I adapt to take care of myself this time?