I’m unusually calm for my life being over. I know that seems a bit melodramatic. When you’re faced with the possibility of being cut off from everyone that you’ve ever cared about, a little drama seems warranted.
The day after I got back, I walked down to the beach early in the morning. The tide had reached its apex and was getting pulled back into the fathoms deep. Rocks glistened, reflecting twilight that had scattered across the cloudless skies above. On the horizon, fishermen were readying their boats, heading out onto the ocean. The only sound I could hear were waves crashing against the rocks and a few gulls in the distance.
I was upset. Scrambling around thinking about all the choices I had made in my life that brought me to this point. I jumped onto a mossy rock, still wet from the early morning tide. My foot slid out and I crashed down hard. It happened too fast for my hands to be of any use and I hit my head, rolling off the side in to the ocean.
The water wasn’t deep. I woke up when a wave crashed over me, pushing me further toward dry land. I didn’t react immediately. I laid there, staring straight up at a single fading star. It reminded me of an incident I had I was younger, adventuring on the east coast in the winter. I hadn’t packed enough clothing on an outing and received a mild case of hypothermia. I remember feeling tired, like if I wanted to, I could go to sleep and everything would be ok.
The same thought went through my head as I sat shivering in the north Atlantic. The water washed around me moving me back out toward the sea. It was tempting. I mulled it over in my mind, wondering if I could actually do it. Somewhere from the depths, a loud “NO!” erupted. I flipped over, crawled out, and found a large flat black rock to lay on. I struggled to strip down to my underwear and spread out my clothes so they would dry faster. An hour later, I walked back to the house.
I learned something important that morning, but I’m unclear what it was. I’ll figure it out. I have time. At this point, there is nothing I can do other than wait this whole thing out. It can’t go on forever.
Lie.
Why do I always lie to myself when the truth is right in front of me? I’m trying to convince myself that it will be over soon, instead of acknowledging how royally fucked everything is. I’m in denial. It’s obvious that I’ve been telling myself what I want to hear because I’m too chickenshit to face my problems. I’m not going home. At least not any time soon. I need to accept that and move on instead of wallowing in self-pity.
It’s time to settle in for the long haul.