Walking

I've started walking.  It's a part of my plan to try to get ready.  For what I still don't know.  I kinda think that just the activity of it--the thinking, processing part of it, the putting one foot in front of the other repetition--may be the journey or at least the metaphor in physical terms that I need. 

I"I'm not going to be stuck forever. See, I can still walk."

My life metaphor is now from surfing. I've heard surfers describe how it feels when they're crashed under by a huge wave. Maybe you've seen the scientific illustration and you have it in your head. Maybe you've seen the scene in the movies. 

It's the one where the surfer is crashed under and struggles to the surface only to be pounded under again and again and again in this awful, frightening cycle. 

That's been life since September 13. 

Death, funeral, funeral, breathe! First month anniversary, her birthday, breathe! Second month mark, thanksgiving, breathe! Cookie exchange, first Friday the 13th, Christmas, New Years, breathe!  And all the thousand smaller waves crashing me down in between. 

I was in that cycle. Barely time to breathe before being dragged back under like a rag doll. 

Probably why blogging was so hard. I was focusing on breathing. It took all of my concentration. I had to go old school back-to-the-basics. Drink. Eat. Pee. 

Now I'm walking. And starting to think, little by little. No headphones. I like listening to the sounds of life.