146 // Today Will Feel Different Tomorrow

The week is moving along fast now. The memory of yesterday is a blur, and this makes me feel as if it were a blur when I lived it, though I know that is probably not true. Sometimes our memory of a time feels is different from how a time felt when we lived it and the less we pay attention, the less we find to hold on to, the less mindful we are, the greater and greater the difference.

Today will feel different tomorrow than it does today.

Or, I hope so anyway. It been a long day of steep highs and lows, good news and bad news, celebrations and a hard future to plan for, and all of which I found overwhelming. I coped the best I could. I talked myself down from panic and let myself feel my joys fully. I faced my failures and allowed myself my successes.

I made it through it all today and sitting here at the kitchen table, enjoying a belly full of Pad Thai and a cool breeze that I like to think blew down straight from the peak of Mount Evans, through the city and in through my open windows with the sole purpose of cooling and calming me, I’m looking back and doing the math. I’m adding up the good and the bad, those successes and failures, the worries and joys, and it seems it’s all coming out even in the end.

A lot may have changed since I woke up this morning, but nearly all of it was horizontal. All in all, I’ve come back to the same me I was at daybreak.

The hardest part has been nearing it alone. My wife is off house sitting and though she isn’t far away and we still text and call throughout the day the same as we always do, not having her physically present leaves me feeling isolated and lonely.

Without her here I don’t know where to put my emotions, except on the page I suppose, but the page can only give back what is given. It can’t change anything. Yes, I can get the emotions out but with nothing to replace them with, they just keep growing back. This is only a prolonging, not a cure.

Luckily, in addition to words, there are chores, and pets, and podcasts, all of which are very good distractions, and by the time it starts getting dark outside and I’m crawling into bed, I hope to be too tired to let the day’s events run for long inside my head.

Published by

Lisa Marie Blair

Painfully aware. Profoundly afraid. Perpetually falling in and out of love with humanity. She/They.

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