I did it! I got myself out of bed at the alarm, and went for a 1 mile walk. It was still dark, and clouds were blocking the stars. I wore a headlamp at the front and a safety light on my back. One car did drive past me, so it’s good to have lights on both sides. By the time I turned around, I was starting to heat up. Once I hit the hill, I got really warm and sweaty. I’m proud of myself for getting myself moving first thing in the morning. I hope to make a habit of walking in the morning.
My therapist is excited about the walking. Bipedal movement is supposed to help the body get past trauma, and walking is a good way to get that motion. She also gave me an insight about why I’ve been feeling so emotional this week. I know that I suppressed some of my emotional responses in Chicago. I didn’t want to get the cops called because I was wailing and screaming, nor did I want to scare or upset my nieces. So I held some of it in. I released a bunch of it when I got home on the 1st, but I didn’t consider that I’d still be dealing with the results of that suppression a week later.
She said it was like holding a beach ball underwater. Once you let it go, there’s an initial splash, and then the water is perturbed for a while. I’m still in the perturbed water. Plus my brain is trying to worry about what’s going to happen with the criminal charges. I’m praying for a successful end on Monday.
And another reason that I’d be upset is cooking. I finally thawed a salmon fillet last night, and today I cooked it. Ambrose was the chef in our household, but more than that, he was the one who cooked fish. I never really participated in the fish cooking – just the fish eating. I had a piece with lunch and will have another with dinner. Then I’ll have more for the days to come. It feels like a widow win, but it also reminds me of him. I didn’t do it exactly like he would have, but I did it.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cook it in time for lunch, but I got it done. My dad advised slicing up an onion and putting that on top of the salmon in a little foil basket. The onion didn’t cook as much as I prefer, but I found myself enjoying the slices anyway. I’ve finally grown to like onions, ha.
After work, I got right to eating. I had salmon, onions, and an orange. I ate at the table. Ambrose preferred that I eat meals at the table. It makes sense to me – we finally, after more than a decade of living in a studio apartment, had a table to eat at, so we may as well be civilized and use it. I’d been eating most meals on the couch since his death, except when I ate meals during a family zoom.
There was no time for a walk before it was time to go to the hot springs, which is part of why I wanted to walk this morning. I did have time to do my exercises for the day. Again because of the hot springs, I just did a quick 15 minute set with some spinal oscillations and shoulder work. I’ve also been conscious of my posture throughout the day and trying to practice core breathing. I’m starting to work pull ups again, but I haven’t gotten into a rhythm with those yet. It will come.
I had a nice time at the hot springs. We spied several satellites, though no bats. It was quite crowded and we didn’t end up with a bench, but it was still a good time.
I’m going to try for a morning walk, a lunch walk, and an evening walk tomorrow. I think running won’t be happening for a while, because I need to put on more gear for running. Okay, mostly it’s the sports bra. I don’t want to put on a sports bra. But I want to walk fast, to train for the backpacking season, and to push my body.
Maybe I’ll see about playing cribbage with my neighbor again tomorrow. Could make it a Thursday night tradition. But I still want to get my walks in. I think the walking is important for me right now, even if the weather is bad. I have the gear, and I honestly do have the time. It doesn’t feel like I have a lot of time in the day, but I have more than I did a few months ago. It’s like my brain after work would just blink and it would be time for bed. I’ve been feeling more awake this week. Grief is a journey and grief is a trip.