Another Sunday in Quarantine

I didn’t go outside today.

I wanted to.

I didn’t.

Well.

That’s not exactly true.

I did go out on my deck.

I am so grateful for my deck I cannot even begin to tell you.

It has saved my life.

I went on a long walk yesterday, I am grateful for long walks, and it was not the best walk ever.

Too many people

So many people.

Go the fuck home people.

Sigh.

I love the area that I live in (although I don’t love where I live exactly, deck excluded, the landlord and his wife are not sustaining very well right now and they fight a lot.  A LOT).  It is beautiful. I’m within a five minute walking distance to Golden Gate Park or to Sutro Heights Park.

I can make Land’s End in fifteen minutes.

I’m a three minute walk to Ocean Beach.

Except.

Well.

Dodging the people not wearing masks or walking in clumps makes the time a bit longer.

I know to avoid the beach.

I know it makes me upset to see so many people out having their sunny beach day.

I want to holler, “it’s my fucking neighborhood, go home!”

But.

Well.

I don’t.

I just stay home instead.

Yesterday’s walk was focused primarily on walking the steep hills around my house so I didn’t run into as many people as I would have if I had gone down hill.

I took one look at down hill and headed right up.

I got pissed and then I thought, just stay on the hills, walk away from the beach.

It’s a constant conversation I have with myself.

I know people are getting squirrely.

I know that folks are tired of shelter in place.

Me too.

Me too.

Me too.

And.

It’s not over yet and there are still new cases getting reported and people are still getting sick and I cannot be one of them.

I only have myself to rely on and so I walk wearing a mask.

I walk six feet plus away from people.

I walk out into the street to avoid contact.

I don’t go out much on the weekends.

I didn’t go out today.

I don’t know about tomorrow.

It is the holiday after all and the weather is going to be nice.

That’s a part of the problem.

The beach doesn’t get beach weather.

Most of the time it’s cold and foggy and windy.

But when it’s sunny, over sixty degrees, and there’s little to no wind.

Packed.

I know if there wasn’t a pandemic, it would have been bonkers yesterday.

Or today.

And what I saw was bad enough.

Also.

Since the city closed down the parking lots along the beach.

Everyone parks in my neighborhood.

Or at the SafeWay grocery store on Fulton.

Last Sunday I tried to go for a walk and I got so overwhelmed I headed home, it was nice last Sunday too.

One too many groups of young adults wearing masks on their foreheads, elbows, and knees, but not over their mouths and noses, drinking Boba tea and taking up the entire sidewalk, for me to cope.

I walked past the SafeWay on my way home and the lot was full.

FULL.

But.

There was no line to get into the grocery store.

The parking lot was being used by all the beach go’ers.

I wanted, as I have wanted on a few occasions to call the cops.

And.

Fuck.

I cannot do that.

Waste of money.

Waste of time.

But what I can do is stay home, take care of myself, and let people do what they’re going to do.

I cannot control anyone.

I can only control my own actions.

And those not all the time.

Although, aside, I did not reach out to my ex today, which is miraculous, I felt the pull of him in my blood like the sunshine on my skin.

Oof.

Hard.

Anyway.

I decided today to just forego outside and walks for the rest of the weekend.

I made phone calls.

I had FaceTime.

I wrote a lot.

I printed off the dissertation proposal.

Four pages of instructions.

I worked on my CV.

Very proud of that actually.

I sat outside and ate my lunch on the deck and got my sun that way.

I kept the sliding glass door to my deck open all day.

I heard how busy the neighborhood was.

I kept to myself.

I felt much better.

Even though I missed taking a long walk, I did not miss getting agitated.

I have a big Monday.

I have seven clients.

No Memorial Day off for me.

I’m ok with that.

I am beyond grateful that I can work.

I will go for a long walk on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and maybe Friday, depending, I’ve a lot of clients Friday too.

I will keep hitting up the Zoom meetings.

I will stay positive.

I will eat well.

I have not eaten any take out since shelter in place.

I don’t really when there’s not a pandemic.

But I did like going out to eat.

Saving some money cooking all my own food that is for sure.

I will work on my dissertation proposal.

I met with my dissertation chair yesterday morning for an hour and mapped out a plan for the summer.

I want to be defending my dissertation proposal the weekend of August 27th, 28th, 29th.

There will not be an intensive.

It will be via Zoom.

And that’s ok too.

I have a plan.

I will stay busy with that, my clients, and the new position with the Daily City Youth Health Clinic–I started on Friday.

I scheduled my first client yesterday.

I will get through this.

And one day.

Hopefully, not too far in the future.

I will take a walk outside without a mask on either.

This too shall pass.

Sleeping In!

An extra fifteen minutes.

Woot.

It’s a party.

Heh.

My boss will be dropping off one of my charges at a summer camp and not back to the house until fifteen minutes after I would normally be starting, so she said, come in fifteen minutes late.

I’ll take it.

I will take any little squeak of time I can get.

I talked about time a lot with my therapist.

How it is a commodity.

How I have often felt that I don’t have enough of it.

(Love)

(Time)

(Money)

All the scarcity that I have dealt with in my life, how embracing abundance can be challenging and sometimes when I have it I want to spend it all, frivolous and mad, just to have it gone again so I can go back to a place of comfortable discomfort.

That didn’t come up so much, but I can see that pattern there in the background looming and lurking there.

I see you, I say to it, it’s ok, it’s going to be alright, you can buy those shoes.

You can book that trip.

You can have a nice cup of coffee.

You can do for you.

Heck.

You can do for others.

The gift of being able to give my friend baby gifts and food, that felt so wonderful, I love gifting things.

The gift of giving my writing, that can be so astounding for me to share.

So vulnerable.

What I was talking to my therapist about was this thing that happens with me in my group supervision and has happened for me on occasion, ok, more than on occasion, in school, is a distaste for people who waste time, who dilly dally, who are not clear, who can’t make discerning conclusions, who have to be led, who haven’t done the work, who are sloppy.

Messy.

Not put together, and not in the way that sounds, I mean, not concise with their language, thoughts, ideas.

Don’t waste my fucking time.

I don’t have enough of it and you’re not getting to the fucking point fast enough.

GET TO THE MOTHERFUCKING POINT.

BITCHES.

I mean.

Please.

My therapist points out, “sounds like judgement.”

Ugh.

Yes.

I know it’s judgement.

But what she then did was spin it so eloquently, so aptly, so delicate and with such a tactful manner that I got it, I got to work right through it and see that when I am in judgement I am defending some part of myself that I am not happy about.

I don’t want to be messy.

I don’t want to be disorganized.

I don’t want to be scattered.

And I never really am.

I am so super on top of shit it’s a little intense.

I do my work.

I do my work.

I do my work.

And then some.

And it can be a control thing, duh.

So much control, so much safety, comfort in the bound parts of me, comfort in the restricting.

I’ve never been messy about my trauma.

Or traumas.

Or the traumatic things in my life.

There’s a list, look them up elsewhere in my blog, this is not about the list, this is about the fact that it was never ok to be messy and upset about it.

Soldier the fuck on.

Chin up kid.

Clear your fucking plate.

Eat your food.

Don’t cry.

And God forbid don’t act like anything is anything but normal.

Normal.

What the fuck is that?

So.

I squashed it down.

I squashed all the messy and teary and hurt and angry and vengeful parts of me down.

I stuffed it down.

I ate too much food.

I escaped into fantasy.

I escaped into taking care of others.

So much easier to focus on another person’s problems rather than my own.

I smoked it down.

I snorted it down.

I drank it down.

And as I was expressing to my therapist, I realize I really just don’t let myself get messy, vulnerable, or dirty.

Except.

Well.

I do.

In one area.

And we talked about that and I cried a bit and I laughed a lot and I outlined the messy and then I outlined the happy and the love and the feelings and the experiences and it was really good to share.

And she reflected back to me and showed me how brave it was to not eat, drink, smoke, or do lines of cocaine to deal with all that hurt and that I have been doing the work and it really does show and that it’s obvious that things are changing in my life because I am being more vulnerable, less guarded, I’m letting things in.

I’m in my voice.

I haven’t lost it.

I am asking for what I want and saying what is in my heart and it’s glorious.

I am seen.

And it feels just fucking smashing.

So.

Um.

Yeah.

I had a good session today.

And then off to work, busy day, full day, lots of juggling baby and siblings and cooking and laundry and lots of sweet snuggles with the oldest boy who read a book with me about stars.

“Are we really made from stars?” He asked me.

“Yes,” I told him, and kissed the top of his head, “you are a multitude of stars, you shine.”

I am always beholden to those that shine.

I feel like I am shining now.

Bright and strong and fierce.

It’s a wonderful place to be.

In my strength.

And.

In my vulnerability.

From where all my strength stems.

When I let it.

When I am not judging.

When I am ok with being.

Well.

Um.

Messy.

 

I’m Done!

I finished all the reading for my next weekend of classes.

One weekend ahead of time.

I am absurdly pleased.

I just closed my Ethics and Family Law textbook and shelved it along with everything else that I read this weekend.

I do have a proposal that I did not get to, but whatever.

I have all week to do it and it’s a proposal, not a formal paper.

I have had some time to think about what I want to accomplish with it and I do believe I am going to do the meditative coloring.

I also thought about doing a guided meditation, I haven’t done a lot of sitting meditation, enough to know I can comfortably sit for fifteen minutes without bother.

I remember the first time I sat for three minutes.

I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin.

I thought I might leap out of my chair or rip my own hair out.

I was that uncomfortable sitting still in my body, in my own space, with my own thoughts to occupy me.

I thought my brain might actually eat me alive.

I have come a long way baby.

I can sit for up to an hour and have done so on a few occasions.

I have had years where I did a sitting meditation, in addition to my writing meditation, but I have to be upfront about that, it wasn’t more than a ten minute sit, often times just five minutes and I did it because the person I was working with insisted I do it as a requirement to work with her.

I wasn’t opposed.

I am not now.

But.

I think the coloring is a nice way to go about it.

I tried some last night to get the hang of it and it was nice.

I actually got some freedom from the rapidity of my brain and it was nice to get lost in between the lines and let go and play with color and just enjoy doing something that didn’t require me to think.

I plan on being up front with my professor and outlining what I currently do.

I thought, briefly about with holding some aspects of my spiritual practice so that I could “implement” it back in and go from there.

Some might call this efficient.

However, it felt a little like cheating for me and I couldn’t quite square the principle of honesty behind that action.

I prefer to be honest with my professor, to even go so far as to say that I have had resentments and needed to work them out, that, already, is spiritual progress for me.

I recognized that it was with myself that lay the problem, not with my professor, he’s not doing it wrong, he’s just not doing it the way I think, or better, thought, it should be done.

Anyway.

That’s all I have to do.

Write and send a one page proposal, outlining what I am going to do to deepen my spiritual practice.

Due by this Friday.

I’ll probably ruminate on it a little bit more then type something up before work tomorrow.

Just to have it out of the way.

I don’t have to start the actual practice of it until February 12th.

Which is also when my first paper is due.

I plan on working on that next weekend.  I will probably review the readings for the class, it was dense, really dense and not well written.  If the author used “implicit” one more time in a chapter to give gravitas to what he was writing I was going to look him up and suggest some creative writing workshops for him to expand his vocabulary.

It really is a pleasant feeling, though, to have all the reading done.

I also got to see my girl friend from my cohort.

She rode her bicycle out and I was grateful to get to show her my home space and we went for coffee and toast at Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club and then down for a walk on the beach.

It was deliriously windy out and the beach was fairly deserted.

It was like being sandblasted.

We did not stay long, but she got a taste of the glory of the beach and vowed to come back soon, although by a better bicycle route than the one Google Maps gave her.

Oof.

Any other city it probably makes sense, but in San Francisco, negotiating the hillier parts of the city, there really is a way to get from here to there and it does not involve riding the coastline.

When she told me her route I got sympathetic leg pain just thinking about it.

I have done some similar things when I was newly on my bicycle and found out the hard way how to navigate around the hillier districts.

The SFBC (San Francisco Bicycle Coalition) map is probably the best one to use for navigation, as it shows grades of streets on hills.

One block over can really make a huge difference.

Going up Polk to the Marina is a lot easier than going up Van Ness.

And probably much safer too.

I digress.

We had a great time.

No homework was really accomplished, although we did go over a couple of things on the syllabus for the next weekend and talked about the school, the program, and of course, our other classmates.

But mostly.

About ourselves.

It was sweet and I feel a strong connection and bond to her.

Partially because she really does see me and also sees me in a way, that although I don’t find flattering and sometimes I get upset with myself, I do have a vast amount of acceptance about, that being that I am in desperate need to control my environment.

“It’s a safety thing for you,” she said in her sweet, lilting, French accent, “I totally get it, and I see how often you do it, with everything in your environment.”

I have had lovers mess up the pillows on my bed to make me squirm or a friend purposely mess up a section of literature I have just set out on a table.

I have seen it, consciously, more and more as I accept myself more and more and learn, not always gracefully, to let go of the reigns and have new experiences.

I really do want them and I recognize, I must recognize, how brave I am.

I didn’t fold up, I didn’t collapse, I kept trying.

Sometimes doing things that I didn’t know better, stratagems that I learned growing up, self-defense mechanisms that worked really well at the time and then stopped, even though I continued to employ them.

I see things with a lot more clarity.

The writing daily has helped, the praying, the spiritual practices I employ.

My recovery.

Oh, all the wonderful things I get to do in the act of getting back to that place where I am allowed to be vulnerable, soft, sweet, and not in control.

Tender.

I opened the door.

I let in my friend.

I experienced intimacy.

And I got my reading done for school.

Winning.

So Happy

So very, very, very.

Happy.

I’m currently listening to Coleman Hawkins–At Ease, With Coleman Hawkins.

Because.

I am officially.

At fucking ease.

I did it.

I finished my final project presentation for my Human Development class.

Yes!

God damn was I sick of thinking about that fucking thing.

However, I realized that I knew a whole lot more than I was letting on last night, to myself, when I talked the ear off the guy driving me home from work.

We got into this crazy discussion about, ha, of all things, human development.

By the time I had finished telling him about my findings in the research that I had done about babies and using sign language, he was a convert.

You should have seen the photo of his three month old he showed me!

Beautiful, funny, horrible, and amazing all at the same time.

Big huge pink bow, huge swath of black hair underneath, serious chubby cheeks, and the cutest (and somehow horrifying) pink Hello Kitty onesie ever.

It was just too much and absolutely perfect at the same time.

By the time he had dropped me off I realized that I had done enough research, that I did not actually have to go to the library and do more.

That, in fact, my wanting to do more was an act of martyrdom and not very becoming on me.

I admitted as such to my person this afternoon when we met at Tart To Tart.

“About that,” she said, with a knowing look in her eye, “when you left me that message yesterday regarding all the things you were going to do I just thought to myself, where is the fun in any of this?”

I teared up.

I admitted that I was not having any fun today.

I also admitted what I wanted to do rather than go to the library.

Nails, I desperately needed a manicure.

And.

Shoe shopping.

I needed to get a pair of shoes to go with the dress I got on Modcloth for the ballet in Paris.

“You do that instead, you go have fun, you go buy some shoes!” She said and smiled.

You know what they say about suggestions.

Well.

I do.

It’s suggested I take them.

I am so much happier when I do.

This life is not a vale of tears, we absolutely insist on enjoying life, there is much fun to be had in it all.

So much fun.

I got my fun on.

I did.

I took myself to Fluevog on Haight Street and I got me some shoes.

Oh.

Darling.

They are so beautiful.

I got a pair of the “Dots” in Arbus.

A gorgeous t-strap heel in black leather with plum, gold, and white polka dots of various sizes.

And.

Oh my!

I found the perfect coat to match the shoe!

I went in to Fluevog and knew I pretty much wanted the Dots version of the Arbus, the other, though equally adorable was in patent leather and does not compliment the matte black fabric of the dress, so the Dots version was the right choice.

But.

I wasn’t certain I was going to be able to find anything in a coat that would work with the shoe.

Plus.

The shoes were just a tiny bit tight.

My left fit perfect, but the right, which is a 1/2 size bigger than my left, felt tight and I knew I was going to be uncomfortable wearing it for long.

I didn’t feel like dropping a big, for me, amount of money, on the shoes if they weren’t the perfect fit.

I told the salesman I would think about it.

I relayed that I really liked them, but the tightness on the toe box of the right shoe was worrisome.

I shook his hand thanked him and headed out the door.

I was stopped in my tracks though when he said.

“Oh!  We can fix that, we can stretch the shoe to fit you, it’s very easy to do.”

Oh.

Yay!

But the color?

Was I going to be able to make it work?

Heh.

Turns out when God wants a girl to get her shoes on, he will provide the perfect coat to go with them.

I found a gorgeous, on sale, swing coat in plum at Tatyana, a few blocks down on Haight Street.

It’s a modified swing coat with rusched sleeves and big black buttons.

It was so perfect it shocked me.

Then the price shocked me.

Then I said screw it.

I’m buying the coat and going back for the shoes.

And that is exactly what I did.

I pulled the coat out and showed it to the folks at Fluevog and they were astounded that I had found the exact match to the color of the plum polka dot on the shoe.

I pointed out a scuff on the right one and they said, only pair in that size, so we’ll take off %15, which basically covered the cost of the coat!

Win.

And.

Winning!

They had me try on the shoes again and the owner saw exactly where the right shoe needed to be stretched and I go back tomorrow to gather up my glorious new shoes.

Sigh.

Life is lovely.

Despite what my head can say and how I felt a little lonely tonight and a little woe is me to not be hanging out and seeing my friend, who is still very sick, and after a trip to the grocery store and some homemade dinner in my tummy, I could not shake the feeling.

A little sad.

A little lonely.

A little left out.

Irrational feelings of being avoided.

Out comes the God box.

Out comes some paper.

Some writing.

And I put a couple of folks in Gods hands and asked for direction and guidance to do what I needed to do next.

Work on my fucking Human Development final project presentation.

I so did not want to.

But.

I did it!

I just fucking started and a few hours later.

Boom.

I have it done.

Well.

Not quite.

I have to practice it a bit, it’s rough, but the hand out that I have to have for it is done and I can practice all week long and time it.

With what I have I either need to gloss over certain things, or I need to talk really fast!

I also have to write the bibliography.

In APA format.

Ugh.

But since I have the presentation done, bullet points, graphics, and all, plus a short video, I felt like I could give myself a break for the rest of the evening and do the bibliography tomorrow.

And you know what else I can do tomorrow?

I can have more fun!

I am done with my homework!

For the first time this semester I have done all the reading that is due for the classes before the classes!

I have done two papers and a final project presentation.

I have two papers left to do before the semester is done.

One down today.

Two to go.

I can do it.

And there is nothing, really to do tomorrow, but meet with my ladies and go back to Fluevog and pick up my gorgeous shoes.

I will likely do a little food prep for the week and a little run to the market, but I have most of the day free.

Maybe I’ll go to Free Gold Watch and play some pinball after I pick up my heels.

Or down to the beach.

I hear the waves are still quite big.

Regardless.

I have time to have fun.

Hell.

I proved that today.

Here’s to taking suggestions.

So much better than my little plans and designs.

They always.

Always.

Are.

Better.

And.

They have much better shoes!

Heh.

Hello Friday

Nice to meet you.

Made it through the week.

Now to deal with the weekend.

I mean, my weekend may be just as busy, if not busier than the week.

That’s how it goes sometimes.

To keep myself mellow and serene at work I often times have to cram a certain amount of activity into my weekends.

I’m used to it, but I have an extra thing I am doing this weekend and I am feeling a little out of control of my time and how I am managing it.

I am reminded that if I am trying to manage it, I have no control.

Ain’t that the truth.

I almost picked up an extra gig this weekend taking care of a little guy that I used to nanny and I really had to think about it.

I also really had to eat dinner before making any decision, which for me is phenomenal progress.

Pause.

Feed myself.

Then make decision.

Don’t react.

RESPOND.

Ah.

That.

That’s good.

I didn’t have dinner with the boys tonight, it was the five-year old’s birthday today and there was much mayhem.

Cookies at school, trips to Coit Tower and the stair ways around Telegraph Hill looking for the wild parrots.

We actually saw a few, but the winds were so high today that I didn’t think there was any hope to see the parrots.  That we actually saw four of them was awesome.

I think the parents were more excited than the boys were.

It was lovely to climb the stairs though, and to go to the top of Coit Tower, which in my 12 years of being in San Francisco, I have never done.

In fact, I realized it’s been at least ten years since I had been up to Coit Tower.

The view was spectacular and I would recommend it to any tourist that was traveling to the city.

View from top Coit Tower

The five-year old birthday boy even got to press the elevator button going down from the 14th floor to the bottom.

It was a sweet little adventure.

I am ever so grateful to get to work for this family, who was all ears about my interview from yesterday and so supportive of my continuing goals.

I am still in awe that I applied, let alone got this far in, on one hand it’s no big deal, they want my money, right?

On the other, I had to apply, I had to do some writing, I had to inventory, I had to pray, I had to get the fuck out-of-the-way.

“Congratulations!” A friend said to me tonight upon hearing my news.

“I haven’t gotten in yet,” I smiled, “I won’t know until next week, but I will know by this time Friday, I’ll keep you posted.”

He smiled at me and repeated, “congratulations, I know you got in.”

It’s nice to have folks cheering for me.

And there’s years of work yet to do.

But I know that I can.

I can keep showing up and doing it.

Although I have to watch it, be balanced, not get too sucked into work, I ate my dinner tonight after leaving the pizza party, cupcake, chocolate extravaganza of birthday dinners, and sat quietly for a minute as my mind roved through the various ways I might be able to help out and do a little three-hour gig for my previous employers.

I just couldn’t fathom it.

And so I responded.

I am busy.

I have things to do and places to go and a workshop to run in Noe Valley.

I also know I have to take some down time this weekend or I will not be a good nanny next week, and I need to relax as well as deal with grocery shopping and cooking if I can.

I will be away from my normal routine tomorrow and I am not sure how I am going to do what I need to do, just as far as grocery shopping goes.

My scooter is not a viable option since I discovered what the issue is with it, so I’ll be taking public transit into Noe Valley early tomorrow and I thought, am I going to be stuck up in the Valley all day?

I may be.

I might have to spend the down time I do have away from the house, it makes no sense for me to do the work shop tomorrow then leave and come back to the Outer Sunset to go back to Noe Valley in the evening.

I suspect I will be spending some extra time at Starbucks with a book.

Which is not a bad way to spend some down time.

I’ll pick up a few groceries at Whole Foods.

And perhaps I will swing into Elsa’s Spa and take a hot tub over for an hour in the afternoon.

It’s been years since I have been to Elsa’s.

It’s not really a spa in the sense of the word that I imagine spa, it’s more like 70s athletic hot tubs, but they’re outside and you can get one for an hour for a pretty decent rate, plus there’s a shower and it’s nice to relax in the space.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen.

I know what I have to show up for and I know I will be taking public transit.

I thought about bicycling, but after a day of climbing the stairs up and down Telegraph Hill, a week of chasing small boys all over the parks, and a windy bicycle commute after a week of bicycle commutes, I figure I could use a break.

Besides.

It might also rain.

No thanks.

I just feel like being cozy.

I am glad I was able to clear a little time for myself tomorrow.

I might not have a date this weekend, but I can still be nice to myself and part of that is balancing work with down time.

I have to do both.

And with that.

Hello weekend.

Let’s be friends.

Punked Out

But still going.

I had an emotionally draining day.

One I knew might be, but was not exactly what I expected.

I knew I would cry and I wore no eye liner.

And waterproof mascara.

Cry I did.

I also did not finish with my endeavor, which was unexpected, it took longer than I thought to go through the things that needed to be said and I was busy writing down things that I did not even realize I was doing.

Control.

God do I want it.

Control and victimhood.

Get thee gone, motherfucker.

Ack.

Nope after an hour and a half at Tart to Tart my time was up and I parted ways with the work, but was still being worked over, internally re-arranged, you might say.

I felt out of it and drained and tired, and it took me a bit once I got back to get into any sort of routine, to get any momentum underneath me.

But I did.

I had a late lunch, went grocery shopping, and managed to get over to Wise Surfboards to buy a pair of booties for surfing.

I just confirmed that I will be getting picked up, me, my wetsuit, the new booties, and a borrowed long board, to go surfing tomorrow morning at 7a.m.

Sigh.

It’s 11:33 p.m. at the moment and I won’t, even my speediest typing, won’t get to bed before one a.m.  I will finish my blog by midnight, but I had a little caffeine later in the day to pick me up from bailing on the rest of the day, and though my body feels tired, my brain is a little busy.

I do have some tea cooling off and a small snack to nibble and maybe I will finish Before Midnight, which I have down loaded and been watching bits of over the last few nights.

I will unwind, but it won’t leave me with the usual number of hours I like to sleep, especially on a day off.  Then again, a day off could me a nap, which would not happen if say I was up late before I was to work a shift.

So, the balance being I will get up early, surf, and probably take a nap in the late morning or very early afternoon, right about the time when I used to get up and ponder this thing that some call brunch, which is really just a vehicle to cater to those hung over from Saturday’s revelry and nurse a bloody mary or mimosa while coating the stomach with greasy eggs Benedict.

Or, that is my experience anyway.

“You’re going out surfing tomorrow?” My friend said to me as we were parting ways, “good for you!  Where at?”

“Sloat,” I said.  Although when I went to buy my booties at Wise Surfboards I did remember how wild the water looked, how big the waves looked and whether or not I would actually be getting into the water at that time seemed farfetched.

“No, you can’t do Sloat, the waves are going to be way too big, who are you going with?” He asked.

I told him.

“No, that’s too dangerous, you guys don’t have enough experience to do Sloat, go down to Rockway or Pacifica or Santa Cruz if you’re going to go out, Sloat scares me right now, the waves are huge, its way too dangerous,” he repeated with emphasis, his eyebrows going up and down of their own volition.

That’s what I thought too, then his friend showed me the wave report for tomorrow and I got goosebumps looking, yeah, not surfing Sloat.

I have been told this numerous times now, the winter is here and the waves are big.

Too big for me, that’s for sure.

I sent my friend a text while I waited for the train, hoping to hear back from him, and wondering whether I would pussy out of going if he suggested we head to Pacifica.

The lure of a warm bed calling to me to stay in it is no small thing.

He texted me just as I was sitting down to write and said, “Pacifica, and if the waves are too big we’ll go out to breakfast.”

Sigh.

Ok.

I texted back.

I know I will be happy when I am in the water and my new booties are keeping my toes warm and even if I don’t get up on the board, I will have the satisfaction of knowing I got out into the water.

Half the battle, more really, is just showing up.

I know I will get up, begrudgingly perhaps, but I will get up.

I will suit up and show up.

I have been trained well.

Turn toward compassion and humility.

That was what I got today and that is what might be the hardest thing about surfing, as I go out for the third time, being so amateur at something, so lost, I have to surrender to what is happening and though frightening, the lack of control is also freeing.

Control.

That was pointed out to me again and again and again.

How I want to control others, their reactions, the way they live, what they do, as though by doing so I will avoid being hurt, I will protect myself from pain.

But life is pain.

And joy and love and all sorts of other things, but yes pain.

Pain is where I grow and learn and through going through the pain I learn.

I learn that I can let go of the control and what I think should happen and on what timeline.

It’s always been out of my hands.

Now, more so than ever.

Just like the waves, too big for me to control or swim past.

Surrender to the nature of my humanity and stop struggling for something that I never had in the first place.

No wonder I got so tired today.

It takes a lot to keep up that facade.

It blocks what I need though, that old sunlight of the spirit, so here’s to letting it go and seeing what takes its place.

Surfing for one.

Apparently.

Who knows what else.

Naps too perhaps.

Sprinkled with acceptance, forgiveness, and most of all.

“Compassion,” she said, “show yourself some compassion.”

Ok.

I acquiesce.

I give up.

Compassion sounds a lot better than control anyhow.