Scarborough Sunday morning

The sea is restless excited.
The surf and the clouds
falling over each other against the shore
as the wind whips between them
and my hair across my face
as I run
pounding
my feet
on the tar.

My breath, loud in my ears
catches the wind
which rises and falls
and the short burst of rain which
pelts my bare legs,
gone as soon as it starts and
a patch of sunlight breaks through the clouds.

I feel my familiar enemy rising
and push through it joyfully,
watching the waves,
feeling the sun on my face
and seeing the distance still to go.

Nothing.
Nothing against my skin but a shirt and some shorts and the elements;
the sun and the wind and the sound of the sea as it breaks on the shore and roars and I am running and running.
And I am running and running.

On your sleeve, beating your own rhythm

Yes grief does kind-of get worse when life gets back to "normal", mostly because what you feel becomes more insidious. You find that you get distracted by other things and then suddenly you remember and feel fragile. Or people expect your energy levels to return and they do (which convinces them they have) but they become volatile and unpredictable.

The most important thing is to ask for help if you need it. Also to acknowledge what you need. If you are feeling fragile and want to talk/be spoiled/ be alone - ask. If you are feeling energetic and want to feel normal for a change - ask, call someone, go out for dinner. People won't know what you need but they will want to help.

How am I?

That is an interesting question today. I recently met someone. I told you about him, I think. In some ways he was just what I've been waiting for - he was intelligent, well read, athletic, driven, had a really strong character and (so important) he was Zimbabwean.

But he was also 30. Really, really didn't understand my sense of humour. Brought out a lot of feelings of grief in me that I had buried, living among people who neither knew nor cared. And we got together too fast and didn't have a chance to be friends first. As a result, we found ourselves disconnecting and eventually (after an INTENSE month) we broke up 2 weeks ago.

And I am sad. I really liked him. Yet the whole time I felt very out of control and it was all I could do to watch as everything about "us" went wrong. I spent the INTENSE month swinging between manic behaviour and insecurity. I didn't know myself suddenly, didn't trust myself. It was horrible.

In the aftermath of our break up I have refound my equilibrium. In relief I have remembered who I am.

Today, though, I'm really sad. My sister just called me to ask if I'd like to do something tonight. She's making me dinner and we'll catch a movie. I know my mum has called her and this is them looking after me. Moving to Perth has been one of the loneliest and hardest things I have ever done. But being near my family makes it worth it.

So that's how I am.

Have a great day babe. Thinking of you.
K