It all starts at 2:30 am when I wake to a sore throat, but not in the location I expect when I’m getting sick- further forward. Was I snoring something mad? I’ve also been having winter allergies and wonder if this could be another manifestation. I pull myself out of bed to mix and gargle salt water, meeting my weary eyes in the bathroom mirror. I leave the cup behind and fall back into bed. An hour later I wake up to Samara puking- my little moth princess who likes to eat holes out of my clothing. I once again rise to inspect and clean. As I re-enter the bathroom my hand bumps into the empty salt water glass. It falls, shattering into a million pieces, some of which drop into my “if it’s yellow let it mellow” toilet. Gross. I shake and remove items from the bathroom, sweeping up the glass best I can, open palm diving into the toilet to scoop the large chucks, and soon thoroughly washing my hands before I tuck myself back in. My alarm goes off at 4:50 am- time to rise and shine for Work. As I initiate my morning routines I feel a small pressure coming from the bottom of my right foot and immediately realize it must be glass. Lucky for me it’s embedded in my calloused sole which means it didn’t hurt or fully penetrate and I easily remove the sliver with tweezers. Should I count this as a win?
At work I had several sweet clients with senior pets experiencing chronic and/or terminal illnesses reach out in one way or another, pulling on my energy stores. I accept the cost because they have soft, kind hearts and this is the reality of caring. Some days are light, others heavy- I try to roll with it.
There are moments when I must willingly subject myself to the challenging client for the sake of the animal, and because I know we live in a fucked up world- expecting people to have their shit together is unreasonable. So on this day I had a long phone conversation with an individual that felt impossible. The more I tried to focus on resolving the misunderstanding so that we could move forward, the weirder and wider things got. Maintaining composure when the person you are trying to converse with cannot is difficult to say the least, but it is a necessary and responsible skill that I am always trying to improve upon, one that cannot be perfected- I am a human after all just trying my best, like everyone else.
There are times when I have no life left in me, bled dry in the name of service. It’s such a strange feeling in that there is a sense of relief- resignation is all I can muster. Copper Creek is a place I visit in the summer where an old mine resides, whose vitality has been lifted, and it carries a similar vibe. It is unusually still and quiet for a forest… an underworld that I have come to recognize- inside and out.
