Senses of Relief
Irregular beats & bikes & bears, oh my!
As August careens to a close I find myself taking a lot of deep breaths and reflecting on a bevy of somewhat unexpected “firsts” from the past 31 days:
My first bouts with irregular heartbeats and some additionally troublesome heart symptoms, including but not limited to unsettling amounts of bradycardia [0 out of 10; don’t recommend], unfortunately experienced at one point in the middle of a long swim in the literal middle of a large patch of open water.
My first time staving off a panic attack in the middle of a long swim, in the literal middle of a large patch of open water I still neeeded to swim across if I wanted to avoid being rescued [which, dear reader, I very much did want to avoid]. Aside: I don’t take water safety lightly, and I’m a highly experienced open-water swimmer, which are two of many reasons why I’m okay and nothing worse happened. My osprey friends also showed up exactly when I needed them, as did Matt and Toya.
My first time talking openly about said heart symptoms, both with my provider and with friends and family members, and feeling immediately and irrevocably less alone as story after story after story—assorted versions of “Hey! I have (had) weird heart stuff, too!”—poured into my DMs and text threads.
My first chest x-ray, followed by my first heart monitor [I wore mine for two weeks], followed by not being able to swim for two weeks in August for the first time in almost a decade [apparently waterproof heart monitors aren’t a thing, alas].
My first time removing a heart monitor and placing it in a box to mail it to a cardiologist to review. Travel safely, abundance of heartbeat data!
My first time making tasty recipes from Alex Guarnaschelli’s The Home Cook, which is my new favorite cookbook, even as it isn’t “new” at all, having originally pubbed in 2017.
My first time riding my bike to the lake to swim [not a life first for me by any means, but it’s been a hot minute]. It felt so good to pedal and walk to the water’s edge, swim, and then walk and pedal myself back home, Matt and Toya bounding enthusiastically behind me.
The first time I’ve seen three bears together [a mama and two cubs!] since the time I saw a mama and two cubs playing in trees near Lake Wenatchee probably a decade ago. Definitely the first time I’ve seen bears via our living room window.
To say the past few weeks have been bizarre and challenging around here is to understate somewhat dramatically. They've also been undeniably beautiful, full-to-the-brim with hope and solidarity and abiding friendship. I've been feeling so seen and held and fondly thought of by so many beloved humans both near and far. I know I’m so loved. I know I’m not alone. I know my heart is strong, even as it’s being altogether unruly right now. I know there are so many more adventures yet ahead this year.
Fall is knocking on the door here and we're excited to answer. I'm even more excited for answers, for a plan, for a way forward in my body that includes far less weirdness and malaise and much more relief, much more ease. I know I'll get there eventually.
[Earlier this month Matt and I found ourselves doubled over in laughter after I’d reminded him that my guiding word for 2024 (I typically choose one each year) was EASE. “The first 16 days of the year were full of ease!” I exclaimed in between fits of laughter. At this point, Matt was barely breathing. “We’ll try for ease again next year.”]
In the meantime, I'm going to keep seeking relief in the places I can find it. I’m going to keep being grateful for every breath and every weird heartbeat, for every bike ride, every swim (and every shower!), and definitely for every thoughtful, silly, heartfelt, delightfully random message from someone I love—because I really do understand how utterly miraculous it is that any of us are here at all.
COMING SOON TO AN OCTOBER NEAR YOU: A COZY & GENERATIVE WRITING GROUP [OCT-DEC]
After a summer break of sorts, DIVE—the beloved quarterly writing group I lead over at Creative Fuel Collective /
—returns Monday, October 28 for the last session of 2024. It’s a warm and inclusive space filled with curated and organic inspiration alongside dedicated writing time for writers in all stages of their creative process. It’s fully virtual, collaborative, and intentionally intimate [see also: don’t wait too long to sign up; essentially every cohort has sold out]. More than anything, it’s a fantastic way to bolster your writing practice, no matter what you’re writing (or want to write). We meet once a month to dive for our stories together for two hours [4-6 PM Pacific] and I check in with writing promps every week in between sessions. It really is something special; come see for yourself!
WRITING PROMPTS TO EXPLORE RELIEF
Word association. Start by making a list of words, weather, sensations, sounds, places, creatures, and people you associate with relief. Once you’ve done that, take a few minutes to look for patterns in your lists: What do they have in common?
What’s standing in between you and feelings of relief, feelings of ease? Spend a handful of minutes writing your way to what you need.
Pay it forward on the page. Is there someone in your daily life or in your (local and/or global) community that could use a bit of relief? Write about what it might look like to show up in those spaces; write about tangible ways you and your unique heart might be able to provide relief in your immediate and/or global communities.
Tell a story about a shift or a transition of some kind—be it a change of perspective, geographic location, or something else entirely.
As always, I recommend sitting with each of these prompts for at least ten minutes at a time. Set a timer and try to keep writing for ten minutes without stopping or self-editing or even trying to steer yourself a certain direction. I’m a firm and longtime believer that when it comes to prompts like these, wherever you end up on the page is precisely where you’re meant to be.
RECOMMENDED READING FOR THE MONTH AHEAD
I’ve been careening through Martha Wells’ “Murderbot” series, and oh, are these books unexpected amounts of FUN. I’m not usually into stories centered on robots or set in space (or stories set too far in the future, space or no space), so no one is more surprised than me at how much I love these books—but oh, do I. They’ve been providing tangible relief over here, for sure [I finished one while I was waiting at the hospital for a battery of heart-related tests]. The best part? Every book is 158-ish pages long.
“Releaf, Relief” by LaWanda Walters
“Belief” by Josephine Miles
“Elsewhere” by Rae Armantrout
Do you know someone who would benefit from receiving regular writing prompts to their inbox, who might delight in reading some intentional rambles about words and water and the power in finding our respective and collective (voices +) senses of place?
I’d love it if you’d share this post and Kerrtopia with them.
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Yikes, maybe next year choose struggle or uncharted and see if you can't get served up some relaxing normal. I always choose a word for the year and then always forget what it was. So this year I chose a sentence of the year instead! Naturally, I have forgotten the sentence as well. Maybe next year I'll write it down. (I almost certainly will not.)
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