I flew to Arizona for a long weekend to get away. I wanted to be separated from responsibility for anyone other than myself, and I wanted to deal with it all later.
I was responsible enough to not buy the $1,700 turquoise-studded big horn sheep skull. That was about the end of it. And I dearly want that skull.
I am a desert lover. I love the heat, the dry, the cactus, the rocks, the depth and the light. It clears my mind and my soul. I brought back cactus seeds to plant and promptly ordered cactus soil from Amazon this morning so that I can make a real attempt at planting them. It’ll be my own little bit of desert before I can go back again.
That deep love for the desert doesn’t come from my family, they aren’t big fans. I think it comes from the people I’m connected to through lasting friendships. The best people in my life, including the friend who graciously hosted me this weekend, have been desert lovers. I love to be out in it, exploring it and admiring every little thing, alive or not.
I’ve just now started to live again. After years of survival, and despite the ongoing challenges of my own mental health and my family’s physical health, I disappeared so that I could take a step toward living. And as I sit at my desk, making faces at the cold, cloudy, non-desert outside, I think I might be in the third phase of my recovery. Living.