Actually, it’s going to be in a Subaru Outback, but I have yet to hear a catchy tune written about one of those.
We’re packing the car and heading out to the coast. My parents own a cabin out along the Pacific Coast Highway (aka 101) and we’ll be out there for the long weekend. Before you get jealous, this is a cabin in the woods. I do not use the word ‘cabin’ as a euphemism for ‘giant freaking palace’ in the woods. It’s tiny and has no running water or electricity. It is a cabin.
It is one of my peaceful places to go when I’m feeling emotionally vulnerable. September 1st was the one year anniversary of my miscarriage. I have not completely healed emotionally from it. I’m not sure that I ever will. But I’m going out to my quiet cabin in the woods to feel like I can breathe again. I will come back to the city feeling more at peace, more connected to my family and myself, and more alive.
This is something that I have never talked about before, but maybe talking about it is what I need to do. I feel like there is some level of societal expectation that grief has an expiration date. Fuck society because here I am, a year later, and my heart is still broken. Running has been my crutch and my salvation and I’m struggling with not being able to run. Running is when I can remember that things happen for a reason, and that even if I don’t like it, this is the way it’s supposed to be.
I will be back. I will be stronger and I will feel better.