ex.haust.ion

I looked up the word origin.  Exhaust means to drain or draw off. Like that pipe on the back of the car. Once Natalie sold a trampoline to buy a big noisy exhaust for her Talon. I guess exhaustion can be like that. Noisy.

Mine crept up on me. Fatigue quietly spilled over. I couldn't wake up.  I had to. One foot in front of the other.  Duck your head.  Keep going.  Day. Night. Day. Night.  No sleep. My self talk: You can do hard things.
Don't think.  Don't give in to the tears that are always right on the edge.

I knew Tulum was right around the corner and I counted the days. Exhaustion, merciless dude that he is, hammered me with new worries and chaos all the way here.  Once on Mexican soil, in the car driving south to Tulum, I broke. I slept. And I slept.  No cell, no Internet, no moonlight. In the safe nest of my beloved sea song, I gave into weariness. I let go.

I don't have to do hard things right now. Just breathe.

Day 1.  I didn't get dressed. Walked down to the beach in my favorite black pants and even more favorite orange v-neck..  I should have known clothes wouldn't stop me.  I needed to be in it.  Soon I was over my head, riding waves, remembering. The sea encouraged me to cast every burden. I did. I curled my toes tight into the sand, tasted the salt and let La Mar wash completely over me. De-tox.  I left all the hard parts, scary replays, troublesome worries and grief in the deep blue.  I didn't realize I was crying until I started back to the shore. Now I can begin.