Skip to main content

A walk in the dark


They say that long distance relationships do rarely last and are hard to maintain, and yes, it is difficult holding on the the flame and keeping your weekly date-nights solely over a Skype-call with a 7 hour time difference and a virtual tour of the Louvre or Tate modern (whenever a shared game of disco glitter battleship, discussing Chump or talking about the containment of your laundry basket seems too casual). I am also almost certain that those same dating guidance rules do not (at least actively) recommend getting struck and divided for an indefinite period of time by a global pandemic. I miss you there across the Atlantic.

A lot of things feel unknown, like when can we get back to normal, what will the new normal be ? Will we be allowed to live in the same country ? A whole plan of marriage, visa, work-opportunities, children and a house to grow old in has been put on hold over night. Luckily this waiting game is not new, and being apart is just simply something we now continue to do. We made a decision 7 months ago that we both believed and now know to have been for the best, we wanted to build up a strong and healthy base for our future that we both still see laying ahead. Sometimes when building a team you have to, out of love, set each-other free. Him back home getting the medical checks and support from family that he needs, and me re-building my life here- stress and worry free. Holding our fort together as we speak. 

But this fort of ours is much more then the apartment walls you see, it is more then daily skype-calls or more or less interesting talks about politics or unmade laundry.  

It is grown from the pieces found while hiking on our feet, climbing mountains, crossing railroads at sunset and in the songs we sang to keep each-other company. It was built in the dark over pitch black moors, not knowing if our destination was right ahead of us or 5 hours more. With you, after all of our adventures (big and small; missed trains, getting slightly lost, my hyperventilation, scenic drives, a punctured wheel and more) I never feel afraid of uncertain times (like these) or ashamed of my anxiety- no matter the extent of time you always walk right beside of me. 
The mutual support, it really helps in all this uncertainty. 
Thank you for loving me

A part of me wishes I was there at the green-red and sheep covered hills again, before it got uncertain when darkness fell. I wish I was back there with you and without a care in the world. Life was wherever it took us and so was the world. But that is not where we are. We are walking through uncertainty- together, yet apart.
I look up and we see the same stars, 
Thank you for holding my hand in the dark. 




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Unhinged

Forgive yourself, lets start with that.  Anxiety can (and will) at times make us act all out of whack I used to pray; do not do this to me again.  Whatever you do- do not let me stumble off towards the edge. But you will stumble, that is a fact, so forgive yourself for falling way off track.  Find those around you who agree to communicate- not say what they do not mean and then leave the truth unsaid-causing you to sprint towards the edge. The edge gave you answers, truths that were left unsaid. It extinguished the feeling of hopelessness.  The what ifs, whys and fear of losing the shots you do not take, the ticking construct of the little time that is left.  Tick-tock, knock-knock and you find yourself unhinged.  Tick-tock, knock-knock you realize the spin.  Tick-tock, knock-knock, mortification creeping in.  Deep breaths darling You are not mad Deep breaths darling The right people will want to understand Deep breaths darling I will hold your ha...

An intuitive journey back to my solo travels

For the past few years I have had a fallback in writing. A lack of inspiration and a feeling that I had already written about "it all", or the things I really wanted to say at least. Perhaps it is the SSRI medication that for the past 4 years have been numbing (in a good way) my anxiety- but also keeping my head away from mind loops, or perhaps I just got to the end of it- let out all the biggest of Roars.  But, whatever it is that has made me write less, I will make sure to not stop completely. I do enjoy this too after all, it is not only an outlet for something anxious, it was always supposed to be more than that. Something to lift spirits, bright up days, encourage others to live (or continue too) live their best and most for-filling lives. So, I decided to go through my solo travels, one by one. Because what might not have been obvious through these text through the years (that is- mainly from the summer of 2016 forwards), is that I went on adventures, on my own (mostly)...

My dream way of living; minimal housing, community, flexibility, nature, adventure

For a few years now I have wanted to live in a tiny house on wheels;           a mobile, ecological, minimalist grandmas cottage. Big windows, wooden floors, natural and warm yet bright surfaces,with pops of color (sunflower yellow kitchen cabinets, turquoise tiles or a single tea-pot) and Moroccan and Scottish throws and pillows. A spacious bedroom loft with a window in the ceiling, a small and not too heavy fireplace to keep the house warm during the winter (or just to boil tea and that cozy factor), a tiny wooden sauna room at the back with an inbuilt shower and half of a giant whisky barrel which could serve both as a sauna seat and bath tub. Storage space under the stairs (my goal is to have as little "stuff" as possible), a dinner table that comes up from the floor when needed, a couch/storage by the window. Wheels underneath to get to new exciting locations when needed (for work, other responsibilities or due to climate change), a few wooden fold box...