Three months? It seems like years.
Three months? It seems like years.
"You are going through a lot subconsciously that you don't realize you are going through," said a wise and experienced friend of mine, with whom I have shared many successful summits and cautious retreats.
Confession: I don't always go straight to work. On days when I don't have a 9 o'clock meeting, I go to my local green-branded coffee shop, where The Barista knows what I want and gets it for me with a smile. I watch people passing through on their way to and from work or the gym.
I am struggling to remember that my role as carer does not make me a comprehensive mediator between my wife and the world.
When she's down, I need to be up. And when she's up, I want to be up. All this up is getting me down. I can't sustain the pace.
I think that my period of silence can be traced to a combination of intensely disturbing, if fleeting, episodes in the PSYWAR, rapid changes in my own moods and feelings, and a total absence of "me" time. Today I finally broke down and just wandered out of work for a couple of hours to experience idleness.