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I went to the beach. Andrew came. Good thing, too, 'cause that kid is all logical and comforting and stuff, and I totally would have driven all the way to Rhode Island just to sit on the beach in the rain and sob. But Andrew printed out directions to a closer beach, and we got there before it started raining, and I didn't cry. I actually felt a lot better. Things seem better next to the ocean. It smelled like the ocean. It smelled... okay. In the sense that things are going to be okay.
I got mad about a lot of things tonight. I think I'm doing better now; I think I've recovered from my anger, and dealt with it a bit, and am once again able to handle life as it comes. I'm so glad I remembered beaches; so often I forget that they always help. Why does it always help to go to the beach? Unfailingly?
Anyway, I just drove for two hours, and it poured on the drive back, and I'm exhausted both emotionally and physically, so I'm going to bed.
Sweet dreams, kids.
I got mad about a lot of things tonight. I think I'm doing better now; I think I've recovered from my anger, and dealt with it a bit, and am once again able to handle life as it comes. I'm so glad I remembered beaches; so often I forget that they always help. Why does it always help to go to the beach? Unfailingly?
Anyway, I just drove for two hours, and it poured on the drive back, and I'm exhausted both emotionally and physically, so I'm going to bed.
Sweet dreams, kids.
