5:30 this morning, I was awake. I wasn’t due to be awake for another 45 minutes, yet, there I was.
Worrying, missing, pausing.. wondering. questioning.
Right path, wrong path… no path -> lost? Not lost? Exploring?
Circles, many, many, many circles.
How on Earth do I trust myself, when I’m such a wreck? Sure, I look like everything is together-ish at the moment, but really? Jelly. So not sure. I’m struggling to see the forest for the gloomy trees around me. The head isn’t in the fog (thank goodness!), but it isn’t quite right, either. Things are hard.
I’m just not sure. 5:30am has hurt my head. I don’t think I’ve been as filled with doubts like this in a long time. It makes me want to avoid 5:30am, 6am and beyond. I want to snuggle up to my love, wake them, let them tell me that things will be ok.
But I’m alone, of course. On camp, in a single bed, in a cabin with six sleeping comrades. Waking my running buddy up to tell her that I’m having 5:30am doubts, could border on cruel. So, I toss and I turn, resolving to let go of everything. The fact that the thoughts are pervasive and have no intention of leaving, I’ve had five hours sleep and the idea of what to do looms large – makes anything beyond breathing difficult.
The alarm finally goes off at 6:15, some comrades wake to work on their core and agility. I’m first out of bed, dressed and ready to go before 6:30.
Balance on one leg, close my eyes, reach for a shoe. Pause. Breathe. Still feeling uptight.
Run. Breathe. Fresh Air. Light. Hope.
The light, oh my, the light.
There is light at the end of the tunnel.
There is darkness before the dawn.
I’m going to bed in a minute… I’ll wake up in the morning and resume my version of normal. I don’t know if I’ve resolved the questions, but now I know the questions exist. A little bit of sleep, a little bit of love… things will be better tomorrow.