Long time, no write.
I haven’t had much time to write. The morning yoga takes up some of the morning and the makeup and lunch prep takes up the rest. I don’t like writing when he’s home, because that’s just impolite, honestly.
I’m happily enjoying a week without the StressedRPh, whose shifts are being covered by a floater pharmacist who is still new enough to not be completely jaded by the company and healthcare industry and actually enjoys his job. Even better, he does his job.
Physically, I’m sore. Like, sore. I had last Friday off, giving me one entire day alone. The day started with the first truly long workout I’ve had in over a month, which was absolutely blissful. While I can do them on the weekends, he only joins me for part of it. The rest of the time, I work out while he does stuff downstairs; unfortunately, I end up really anxious in that situation. My mind just goes crazy, and the workout is nothing but me trying to concentrate on my form while simultaneously creating terrible scenarios about what he possibly could be doing downstairs.
But Friday… I worked hard. In addition to the workout, I was out in the backyard spinning poi for almost two hours, and had about an hour inside with the lightwhip. I did some yoga over the weekend. There were two yoga sessions on Monday, because I had a terrible sleep and thought the extra flexy-time would help unravel my mind. Last night I did some more yoga, and today I’m sore. While it feels great – I describe it to him as an “accomplished soreness” – it’s definitely at the end of the spectrum that says “you need a recovery day”.
Mentally…. This week has been good, but has had its trying moments. Sunday night’s sleep was really bad. I wasn’t overly awake when bedtime rolled around, but my mind just spiked once I was in bed. It spun from minor concerns about work and jumped wildly to concerns about legal things coming over the next month. Once I realized what was happening, I tried to focus on my breathing and bring myself down. Unfortunately, that method of calming myself can sometimes backfire and make things even worse, and this was one of those times. The rest of the night was more of the same, just in different positions in bed.
Facebook brought up some bittersweet memories this week.
This week, 18 years ago, I made the journey to Vancouver to meet him for the first time. We were so young, and so in love. The only problems we had were the miles between us and trying to scrape together the money for another meeting and, later, the immigration fees to bring us together permanently. Here we are, nearly two decades and half our lives later, and I wonder if I will ever have that in my life again.
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