I've made it

11/01/2023 

I've made it. 

My 23rd birthday has recently passed and I was able to spend a lovely five nights away on the North Coast in Berriedale, Scotland. A cottage, with a three-minute walk along and over the river to get to the pebbly beach. My birthday happened as follows:

I'm walking down to the beach with my fiancé, passing the gushing river to my left and a few old stone houses to my right. Open the gate. Close the gate behind me. Passing a few houses and their small gardens we get to the start of the footbridge leading across the river onto the beach. Two people at a time, no jumping, no loitering. Starting across the bridge I am attempting to slide my feet across the bridge as opposed to lifting my feet and standing down again in an attempt to limit bounce. A little to the left, a little to the right and finally we make it. Despite it being the seventh time crossing the bridge, due to the unsteady nature of the bridge and warning signs prior to embarkment, I feel as if it takes quite a long time to cross this bridge. Perhaps more likely, I am present for 25 seconds or so as we cross the bridge with less distractions than normal. 

8:51. Three minutes left. 

Scrambling down close to the shoreline I arrive before my partner and she catches up shortly. Flip flops off, earplugs in, dressing gown off. I stumble in and feel the cold water on my feet, ankles, shins and knees. I lunge forward and submerge so that my head remains above the water. I endure the initial shock and pain of the cold. Breathing, shouting to my partner, a few Woo Hoo's but soon manage to calm my breathing. Cold shock over. Now calm, present and feeling alive. Rotating my head and body to take in the shoreline just 10 meters away, my fiancé watching on in her warm clothes holding my towel and dressing gown, the five small cottages that line the beachfront with a few residents looking on, the waves crashing along the beach and against the cliffs, a few birds flying overhead and out to sea, the warm coloured clouds out on the horizon shift lighter and lighter until the sun rises. I wave to my partner. 

Five minutes, time to get out. 

Flip flops on, dressing gown on, time to start the walk back to the warm cottage. Across the unstable pebbles, over the swaying bridge, along the gushing river, through the gate, past the stone brick houses and through the front door. 

Later that day. 

15 minutes. Wow, they kicked in quickly. I am eating breakfast shortly after consuming one and a half grams of dried liberty cap mushrooms. Breakfast is paused and will have to be finished when I am less nauseous. I am sitting with my partner on the sofa when she says she is going to have hers now. She leaves the room. I'm on my own, she won't be gone long but how long? I think about her absence and how I feel on my own. The painting on the wall is interesting to look at. A deer's head with multiple curving strings of colour surrounding it. I walk over to the window I'm watching the river until my partner returns. She returns, music from a"star gazing" playlist is playing gently through my speaker and we get comfortable on the sofa. I settle my head on her lap as she holds me. We are talking, finally getting to this point.

I've made it. 

I think it is safe to say that many people find themselves in a state of trying to get to somewhere else. This could include the desire to have a job, a better job, work fewer hours, or in relation to bodily states such as hunger and thirst, striving to feel satiated and quenched. 

The past year I have spent with my partner has made me very grateful for the quantity and quality of the time we have spent together. So many things are in a constant state of desire to be in a different state than the one you are currently in but with her, I know that I've made it. Even when things are not perfect, and we are dealing with conflict, I know that we have the structures in place to make things work and for issues to be dealt with, as opposed to pushing them aside. 

I think the feeling of "making it" to where I need to be, is important. It relates to an idea that is practiced in stoicism that if you're not happy with what you have now then you won't ever be happy. Acceptance is an approach that is difficult but rewarding. This is the way it is and I will do the best I can in the situation at large. To be completely honest, I fear that my decision to take the Pfizer vaccine will impact my health negatively and result in early death. Following a vaccine related event/ panic attack, it is something that has been and is still on my mind. Despite this, I know there is no way of taking that back, and I need to be present and accepting in the life that I have, doing the best I can with the life that I've got. 

Amor Fati & Momento Mori. 

Two Latin phrases remind and help me to be grateful for the life I have,  and accepting of the events within it. 

Onwards with the rest of my life.