Somewhere in Nevada, facing snow-capped mountains, walking with sweat on her brow and a heart broken open.
She lost love first.
Monday at noon a three year relationship ended. Nick sat at the edge of our shared bed and said “I want to break up”. My face felt so hot.
She lost employment second.
Tuesday at nine a relatively new job halted. My boss sat on her end of the zoom meeting and said “Regrettably, we need to let you go.” My fate as the lowest employee on the totem pole sealed.
I lost treaded ground. My bare feet softened from stability. Now raw.
Thursday at seven a.m. a father scooped up his daughter and her belongings and drove away from the ocean and into the desert. Driving towards a mother ready to hold her. Joshua trees and dry air. In Barstow, in the gas station bathroom, I gasped for air behind my cloth mask. I gasp and gasp and gasp. Like a child who falls and sees the sharpness of blood-red for the first time. Re-learning to breathe.
I’m alive. I’m ok.
Saturday at eight a.m. I walk towards snow-capped mountains and sob openly. Listening to Brene Brown’s recent podcast episode. I laugh like a desert loon. Because I’m so fucking scared. But I’m alive. I’m loved. I’m ok.
*I want to take a moment to express gratitude-beyond-words to my friends and family. You have held me, carried me, listened to me, loved me, respected my loss and confusion. You’ve reminded me of my own strength. You are everything.