Last night I lay awake in my hammock listening to the owl in the tree above my head... the trees were faintly outlined by the barely visible glow on the horizon. I could hear the boys sleeping nearby and breathed a prayer of thanks that even in this very isolated place, surrounded by canyons and trees and sky, I am never truly alone.
Often the battles we fight leave us feeling terribly alone, and unprepared. I see people every day facing that which they fear most, what is seemingly impossible for/to that unique individual. And yet, we all have this driving force (I can't bring myself to call it an energy) to keep moving forward, beyond what we battle, to thrive and live fully, even in our broken state. What is unfathomable in the whole of human survival/ability to endure is not just that we keep pushing forward, but that we find the strength to become more of what we should be. These darkest places and hardest challenges can actually be the catalyst to becoming what we are to become.
So, this (another) day was filled with Lochlan trying to disappear off the property, necessitating "eyes on" every 2 minutes, followed by screaming when his wishes and expectations were thwarted. He has not slept more than 5 hours a night for 10 nights, but instead is filling my nights with (often outdoor) adventures. During the daytime, if he can be cajoled into staying indoors for a wee tad over the two minute marker, he uses the time to play the current musical fixation (1 song) repeatedly or by filling the bathroom with overflowing bathwater/bubbles at a 2 inch depth. It feels like an existence for all of us that is not sustainable and sometimes I think my personal perspective/outlook in life is characterized by trauma (though that seems like a strong word). Meanwhile, the battles to find Lochlan services perpetually continue. And, hence, I find that my current observation about humanity encourages me when my circumstances are discouraging or seemingly unbearable.
The challenges of some days leave me feeling like the shadow of my former self is haunting the person I am today, taunting me with whom I feel I should be by now. However, most often when I'm alone with my thoughts (which, admittedly isn't often), usually exploring in the mountains, I am able to re-balance my perspective to live fully in the life I have been given, giving no room to grieve the life I might be tempted to feel I was "owed". Because, really, the lives we are given are so much more full of pain and profound beauty (love?) than any fantastical narrative we painted for ourselves in our youth.