Goodnight friends! Not much rain, but a long dreary tail of humid foggy grey that saps the air of liveliness. Thistle heads bowed and bedraggled, unable to fly, snails and insects huddled under the battered, fading eaves of trees. A wet odour of sticky decay mingles with the honey-sweet scent of meadow peas.
Still feeling a little sore and woozy, timid of exercise, but after a long slow morning to build my focus and determination I went through with a fairly standard workout. There’s a slow kind of euphoria to this that I’m still not entirely used to – something I’ve built through the past few years of routine and familiarity starting with this diary and my short daily walks – a region of known quantites within the chaotic grey territory of chronic illness that lets me think ‘I can’t do this now, but I know I’ll be able to later.’
May we find space to safely express the fullness of ourselves, our thoughts and feelings without shame or rebuke today!