As it turns out, it really is possible to walk in darkness with a smile on my face. Never mind the side effects of new medication. Those in themselves are eerie eyes peering at me in the dark. The sedation is two-sided—the negative side causing me to stumble and the positive side allowing me to take it all in stride. And even when the fog lifts, though general motivation lacks, acceptance and comfort exudes somehow and channels its way through humor. Apologizing for falling short has never come easier, and as time laboriously wears on or smoothly glides by, the need to apologize is dwindling.
I’m slowly returning to the land of the living, and a smirk is rising against my cheek right now as I think of what living feels like at its best. So what if I don’t have the means to take off and climb mountains in search of ancient ruins or stand on the edge of that orange plateau I’ve dreamed about? Physically I’ve atrophied to the point of not being able to run a 5k or properly ride a horse, but that will be remedied soon enough. In the meantime, I can leap from a perfectly good airplane. That first step beats all. When the temperature rises above arctic levels I’ll go. In Texas, that could be an hour from now. Either way, I was assured that my face would not freeze off. I was careful to use that exact wording. So my face will not freeze off, then? (Laugh on other end of phone) No, you’ll be fine.
I had the bright idea of attempting a handstand about a week ago. In my head I could do it. After the third failed attempt, I remembered that I need to get back to yoga, which by the way I do in the comfort and seclusion of my bedroom where no one can see me lie flat for thirty minutes in pretend meditation after five minutes of hideous and exhausting animal poses. The stretching is nice, though. I’m looking forward to getting back to that. I’m looking forward to getting back to a lot of things. Writing, for instance.