There are no pink elephants but I feel a land rediscovered.

I've not ever spent a lot of time in Mobile, certainly not Downtown but it has a charm. I mean....the comparisons to New Orleans are irrritating and unnecessary, given the age of Dauphin Island. And I want to love this place, I want to feel a connection...insteadz I glide along the surface

There are photos I would take but I came out for my meander without my phone...without a camera, or paper and a pen. Just myself and a few dollars in my pocket. Nothing else. I didn't feel alone but I did feel a disconnect.

And then it comes.  The wave...perimenopause? Impending grief? I feel so frustrated. My head hurts. My heart hurts. Like, I can literally feel it squeezing against itself in pain. It's worse than not being able hold James Robert in those brief hours I hovered around an incubator, back when I didn't think anything would hurt more than not being able to hold someone you love.

In a few hours, I thought,  I'll see my father. I'll be able soak him up, feel who he is and our connection. It will have to be enough. I can't keep crossing this ocean like this, in this manner. It's too much. I breathe in and out. Place my hand against my chest. 

Later, the ache returns. I breathe, quiet the room. But it won't quiet. Everything grates at my skin. The ache isn't a migraine. It is equadistsnt between my eye and my ear. Faintly, as though I am watching a reflection whilst real time life moves around me, I can see vague snippets of scenes vying for my attention. Vaguely, under the soundscape of now, I can hear the voices that would accompany these scenes. And I shudder, sometimes laugh, because I know these are flashbacks. I gently massage the spot, the hum and whir of a trigger being disengaged, at least for awhile

Traditionally, I would distract myself with... anything. Inappropriate men, inappropriate friends, inappropriate purchased. I mean...what isn't to love about inappropriate? It tends to be fun, there's always an adrenaline rush but the aftermath, as I have gotten older, has become excruciating. One of those nights, as Sunny Sweeney reminds me, can go on for days. They are not compatible with extreme crochet, carpool, dog walks, laundry, reading, meandering, tree-climbing or anything else that really brings me joy, even the self-pity parties for one I occasionally like to throw.  It's weird. Inevitably, a day or two after an intense episode, I will have a drink. Or three. I try to level the collateral damage, because I know even sitting in the lay-by on this particular road is not the wisest of moves.

Talking with my therapist, I mention the dull thudding pain I get just behind my right temple when more than on trigger is being depressed. It is often accompanied by a ringing or scritching in my ears. The sound will pass, but I have noticed that pain - kind of like a bruise being thumped or flicked repeated will continue. When it finally dissipates, I feel groggy and exhausted and I have noticed that the itch to quieten/mute. everything is intense. Almost automatic, like I'm dreamwalking.

And then...a side appears, post general anaesthesia. A ponderance and curiosity exist but not a rumonational loop. Is it a reset? Too early to tell. But I am enjoying this soft clarity.