Breathing is highly underrated

After that first day of fear and abstraction, I had hoped for a bumpy but mostly downhill slide back into my Colorado life.

HAH!

By now, one would think that I, of all people, would know better. But no. Always with the learning things the hard way.

Clouds began gathering mere moments after my last post. Being the foolish 'first victim in a horror movie' type, I did not cotton on...

There I sat, contemplating my new old world, happy but still skittery. My eyes started aching, burning really. But I was bone tired after surviving a long long day. Found myself thinking one thing over and again. The same thing, the same phrase. Over and over and over...


the aloneness is deafening in its silence


Truly it was. An oppressive roaring that made my shoulders hunch and my skin twitch. Loud like the quiet after an airplane ride. Loud like the stillness at the center of a storm. So the burning was like so many unshed, misplaced tears.

But the next morning, it was worse. The muscles beneath my ears were tender, bruised; my eyes enraged by the light. My right shoulderblade curling beneath my left as my left crept up to guard my neck. Within hours the sneezing started. By noon I could barely breathe.

Apparently celebrating my return and released from an epic drought, all the trees, plants, mites and molds have burst forth with a ticker tape parade of pollen to rival any heretofore known.

Since midday Tuesday, talking, sleeping and eating have all taken place only at the expense of breathing. The good news is that, when compared with breathing, the aloneness became suddenly much less interesting. Wednesday my boxes arrived. Thursday I made a stab at unpacking, mainly motivated by a dirth of work clothes. Moving back 'in' has been pushed to the back burner. Set aside for the weekend. After some sleep. And, more importantly, after some serious antihistamine loading. And so, here it is, Friday, and I find myself still standing. Listing a bit but standing.

Last night, I must admit, I wasn't sure that this would be the case. Tired and frustrated, beat down by my body and my cases, I felt my grip weaken and optimism slipped the lead. For a while, quite a while actually, I just sat and cried. Every time the tears lessened, my gaze would be caught by a letter I received, full of love and pluck and understanding, and I would start crying again. Crying because it is so terribly hard and there is so very much yet to be done just to be less behind. So many things that simply cannot be delayed. Big things, like grant extensions and reports, time-sensitive paper revisions. Even little things, like grocery shopping, have taken on Herculean magnitude.

But today it is a little better. The antihistamines have finally started to chip away at my misery. My energy is creeping back up. And I have officially survived the first week of my return. From here, it should all be smooth sailing...


okay, even I am not that dense. But hey, why borrow trouble? It knows how to find me.