This week

Tomorrow, I leave for a four-day camping trip up north. It will be good to get away, or more, to go toward something. This week has been like an emotional cheese grater, and I'm feeling raw, like when your knuckles get too close and some skin falls into the cheese. (That never happened when I brought a dish to your dinner party, I swear!)

I'm thinking about loss. Lost chances, lost places, lost people. I never think when I say goodbye to someone that this could be the last time we see each other, this could be the last time I hear your voice, put my arms around you and feel your body, your physical being. I'm always so caught in my heart, in my head, and feel as though I will always be with everyone I love, forever.

There is a lot of truth in that sentiment, at least in my reality. But upon reflection, I worry that there is an automatic detachment that occurs, a defense mechanism honed by years and years of saying goodbye for good. I remember one morning when we left a town in a big U-Haul, and my friend was standing there in our driveway, waving good-bye. She was a mess. Tears everywhere, sobbing uncontrollably. I don't remember if I cried. I have had a hard time crying when I'm meant to. I get salt water performance anxiety, and it snowballs. The more I feel like I should be crying, the more it doesn't come. I can't feel fully in the moment. Maybe I'm more concerned with what others are feeling than my own feeling.

Now, when I do feel the moment, and I can't hold it in, I feel proud of myself, and relieved. Getting better at feeling, or allowing myself to feel. It's so messed up. So backwards. Or forward?

I'm going to go into the ocean and let it roll me around. I'm going to collect some rocks. I'm going to blow my boyfriend's mind with my campfire culinary skills. And I'm going to get to the root of what has happened this week and let myself feel it all.