Those reading this space and what things I say in other spaces lately are no doubt aware that I’e been struggling. I’m not sure what it is, really. I suspect it’s a shifting mix of cabin fever, depression, anxiety, boredom, mourning, anger, existential dread, fear for the future, stress, ennui, a well-timed mid-life crisis, frustration, rational reactions to the state of this undeniably f**ked up world, and a bunch of other feelings, states, and conditions that I don’t necessarily have the words for.

And, possibly worse, additional stress and anxiety resulting from the fact that I don’t know how to fix it.

I am, however, muddling through, getting up each morning, going through the motions to get the stuff that needs done mostly done, and going to bed to do it all again the next day. It’s not something I really have a choice on (which is it’s own kind of frustration), so it’s gotta get done, because I have responsibilities I can’t really abdicate.

While my definition of “muddling through” might differ from those people stuck in the house with me, I get through days. Not always pleasant days, but it’s the “get through” that’s the real operative clause.

It’s been suggested that perhaps I need a change of scenery; some novelty.

To that end, I did a little research on likely destinations, and booked myself a long weekend of solo camping and mountain biking in the “wilderness” (by the way of the National Park Service, anyway) for early next month. A site a few hours away from here where I can spend a couple of days riding unfamiliar trails and looking at things I’m not currently surrounded by. Clear the head and purge the ballast in a socially-distanced, responsible, and cost-effective way.

And I’m not really telling anyone where I’m going (apart from my immediate household), because that’s kind of part of the whole “escape” thing too. I just need to get off the grid and live alone with the trees and my thoughts for 72 hours or so, without being concerned with dealing with anybody else.

It’s going to be my time.

Damn, I hope it helps.*

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* – …at least as much as this morning’s long-overdue hot shower felt. That was a short bit of glorious pleasure after most of a week without.