I have become a somnambulist. I awake in the wake of my journeys: the pile of bedclothes heaped upon the floor, the dirtied feet and matted hair, the bedside rug freshly peed on, the bedside table toppled, the sliding glass door standing open, woods dirt and leaves tracked inside.
I do not remember my journeys. Sometimes I awake tired headachey with the fog of my journey lingering round my brain. Sometimes I feel vital and empowered and like I can accomplish anything. I imagine on mornings like this that I tore off my clothes and ran through brack and brambles. That I feasted on fowl caught with my own hands. That I howled with my friends at the full moon or the new moon – whichever one has called me out of the complacency of sleep.
I feel this in my bones. I have flown. I have traveled beyond the known universe. Because my wild nature has demanded this of me. The darkness beckons me to celebrate the death and decay of all I hold near in waking moments.
I have cast off the domestic bonds that hold me to the ground in my waking life. My inner knowing guides me. I answer to no one outside of that.
Today is my birthday. I don’t mind telling you how old I am because I worked damn hard to get here. I have walked this planet for 61 years, believe it or not. And every day I wake up able to rise and shine, I am grateful.
This morning, I spent time on the beach drinking coffee and writing in my journal. I watched my dolphin friends parade back and forth several times. On one pass, a couple of them threw their tails up higher than was necessary and then rolled their bodies up and out of the surf. I thanked them heartily.
A string of birds flying in formation caught my attention. The formation pattern shifted constantly, creating lots of different moving pictures in the sky.
I typically do not enjoy my birthday. I feel pressure, either external or internal — or both — to make something big happen for myself, to be a big kind of happy. It’s too hard. Especially this time of year. Everyone is recovering from the big Christmas blowout.
I have threatened for many years to run away to the beach for my birthday and I finally did it! It has been completely liberating to celebrate my life by living it on my own terms.
After writing a while, I sat in the sunshine, fell asleep in the sand, went to a deli and bought a sandwich, ate the sandwich, took a proper nap in bed, drank tea, read notes from friends, packed up most of my stuff in preparation for leaving, and then, I did what I have not done in a year and a half: I took a bath! Because there is no bathtub where I live. Only a shower. So that was my happy birthday!
But really, this entire trip has been a celebration of me. I gave myself this time to heal from an immense sorrow. And every day has been a blessing. Every day I feel stronger, clearer, happier. This evening was a testament to that.
For some reason, I was clearing out my voicemails, and I happened upon a few that I’d forgotten about from the Oregon guy. I listened to them. Why? I don’t know. To see what kind of response I had to them, I guess. To test my heart to see if it was all better, maybe. No good reason. BUT. They didn’t make me cry. They didn’t make me sad or angry. They just annoyed me. So I happily deleted them.
Am I becoming more callous? Probably. But I probably need to.
Betrayal is a common theme in my life. And I don’t bounce back from that kind of hurt very quickly. In the past, I’ve given people multiple opportunities to redeem themselves after they betrayed my trust. But here’s the thing: I remember this time when exhusbandguy nearly hit me in the head with a beer bottle after screaming bloody murder at me. It just missed me. I ran out of the house and tried to find someone to help me. But every person I called said they didn’t want to get involved. I had to go back home by myself. Once I got there, exhusbandguy was crying and apologizing over and over and saying he didn’t ever want to hurt me. And I thought, how many times will I accept his apology? Nothing changes. He’ll lash out at me again. Because he always does.
So it is with people who have lost my trust. When I give them opportunities to earn my trust back, but they repeatedly disappoint, it’s time to let go. This is a different type of abusive relationship. And it’s bad for me.
Oregon guy messed up several times. I always forgave him and gave him another chance. My mistake.
So yes, I have to be a bit more callous, a bit less forgiving. I’m 61, for goodness sake! It’s time!
I had a dream last night in which there were two gigantic dogs. Irish Wolfhound size. I was told to be gentle around them as they are sometimes wary of people. But they immediately warmed to me and were comfortable in my presence. The dream was very tactile in that I had a distinct sense of having a very large paw in my hand. I remember the weight and heft of it.
Gentle, loving, and loyal beings. I am grateful for this reminder of the type of person I want to be. And the type of people I’d love to be with.
I leave Chicamacomico day after tomorrow. I have big plans for tomorrow that will take me down to Frisco and Hatteras. Tonight, I will rest in the peace and assurance that I am getting stronger, smarter, braver, and happier. I will say my gratitude for the abundant blessings in my life. And lastly, I will say thank-you to you, dear reader, for walking beside me.
It’s Christmas Eve. The ocean was unusually calm this morning. I took my usual cup of coffee out on the beach before sunrise and walked along the water’s edge. There was barely any wind. The world had a gentleness and an ease about it.
I spotted a pod of dolphins and watched their majestic procession. I asked if they had any message for me. What I heard was, “Breathe freely. And do your thing.”
“My thing?” What is “my thing?”
I watched the sun rise above the horizon line and dazzle the water with its light. I noticed the deep shadows that complemented its radiance. And I wondered at the glory of privileges such as walking, breathing, hearing, seeing. Just being.
I needed to drive into Nags Head today for a few things and decided to make a day of it by veering off the path to see some different sights. I had ideas of places I wanted to explore but I had unformed ideas of what might be there. For me, the discovery is part of the fun. So, for example, at the base of the Marc Basnight Bridge, I had noticed a sign for a Pea Island Lifesaving Station. I decided to veer off to see if there was a spot where I could take a good photo of the bridge while not driving. It is an impressive structure, a testament to engineering ingenuity. I not only found an excellent photo opportunity but an opportunity to walk out into the middle of Oregon Inlet.
The Marc Basnight bridge replaces the Herbert C. Bonner Bridge, the last bit of which was finally demolished in May of 2021 — all except a bit that extends from the shore out into Oregon Inlet about a thousand feet. This is now used as a pier. I had read of this structure’s existence but hadn’t made the connection between its existence and the former lifesaving station where I’d chosen to veer off. I was beyond elated to happen upon it.
I secured my car keys and phone inside my shoulder bag, which I strapped crosswise over my shoulder for extra stability. Because whenever I am in a precarious place — on top of a mountain, on a pier or bridge over a large body of water, even a small pier over a small body of water, I have an irrational fear that some invisible hand is going to knock my cell phone out of my hands as I’m taking a picture and it will sail across the sky and into the abyss below never to be recovered. Or it will magically reach into my bag, snatch my car keys and hurl them into the abyss below never to be recovered. Or it will magically lift my body and hurl it into the abyss below never to be recovered. It is an irrational fear that is deeply rooted but it is not a debilitating one. I am still able to enjoy myself while precariously perched. The fear adds to the excitement.
After satisfying my urge to explore the former Bonner bridge, I proceeded to the Body Island lighthouse. Operational since October 1, 1872, this lighthouse was the third erected on this site. The first was built on an unstable foundation and ultimately torn down. The second was exploded during the Civil War. I think of lighthouses more as decorative structures, less as lifesaving ones. But especially in this area where sailing conditions are treacherous, lighthouses are a necessity.
I stood in awe of this structure as I imagined the history of its existence, the storms it endured, the people it saved.
After running my errands in Nags Head, there was one last place I wanted to explore. A very old-looking house is visible from my room and its vibe has been calling me. I decided to find the road that accesses the house so I could take some photos of it. Not only did I discover this road, but I learned that the interesting-looking house was part of a compound of other interesting-looking structures that were the Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station. The museum and gift shop were closed so I didn’t learn much about the history, just the dates posted on placards. But I wandered around the complex, finding all sorts of lovely angles and light for photos. I will definitely explore the history of this place.
The final bit of expanding my comfort zone occurred in the house where I am staying. I am renting a room. Yet I was told that I could take advantage of a full kitchen, lounge area and deck on the upper floor. So I went up there today and found all sorts of magic. I can spread out, when I allow myself to. And why not allow myself to?!
In a world where conditions are limiting and other people strive to keep you in check, I choose to expand beyond what is known and comfortable in the little ways that present themselves. This is often very challenging. For example: I wanted to leave Rodanthe after my car was repaired. But I’m very glad I was able to stay in that space of discomfort until it passed. I’m glad I stayed. I’ve given myself space to dump a lot of stress and allow my heart room to breathe freely. And this is what the dolphins said to do.
Also, “my thing” is growth. I will keep doing my thing.
kathyclarksays 