Riding Into the Light

I was riding my bike around the island today, past some awesome country scenery, and I felt good. A year has come and gone since Steve’s death, and I can look at the seasonal pumpkin on my porch and know that things have improved.

I have been creating a new life for myself. Tomorrow, I am traveling once again to San Juan Island for my weekly Friday meeting, and this time I get to meet with a potential sponsor. I have 35 days today. Free from alcohol and marijuana. I was worried for my mental health, and 34 days ago checked myself into a psych ward down in Tacoma. I spent five days there, then five on the road with my sister out on the peninsula, then two more at her farm. Finally after twelve days away, I returned to my trailer and my kitty. I have bounced back from what I feared was a compromised state, and am feeling fine. Positive really. Sometimes it takes a minute to expunge ourselves from the darkness, but once we do, we can feel lighter.

I have some new crystals, some records to listen to, and a new tarot deck. I have been practicing my journaling, tarot, and searching deep within myself to find the courage to push myself up against impossibilities. I can stay clear headed and sober, I can pursue my dreams. I even got my guitar out and have been playing a little everyday. I have been riding my bike for an hour almost everyday. I even jumped off the Odlin County dock and swam to shore at high tide. It was clear and beautiful and sunny. I rode my bike home in my sandals and my sundress, and the air felt warm against my chilled body.

My sister and I have been staying close since I asked her to take me to Tacoma, and then pick me up five days later. We ventured across the Tacoma Narrows bridge, and spent a couple nights in Paulsbo, then one in Port Townsend, before heading home. We took a day trip out to Crescent Lake past Sequim, and drove home over Deception’s pass. As I find my footing back in my daily life and sobriety, I have yet to truly express the gratitude I have for her support. She dropped everything to be there for me.

I see now that I have little to worry about. Now that I have worked through and processed so much grief around Steve dying, I am coming out the other side feeling stronger. Every step I have taken, every task performed, and every decision made on my own since September 2025, I have been practicing resilience and building muscle memory.

The sun shining through my window right now into my office, has me smiling. I have witnessed others in their grief since Steve’s death, and I am astounded at how many have experienced loss in their lives. I am not alone in this. I have become adept at a simple knowing when I look into another’s eyes. I recognize it now. It is not hard to see. Also, so much is making sense to me that never quite hit home before. Mostly things that Steve has said to me over the years. I understand now. I understand where this wisdom was coming from, and the depth and meaning behind things I could not quite comprehend when I was nineteen, in my twenties, or in my thirties. Steve came into my life very much a man, when I was still a very young woman. I was deeply attracted to his mental acuity and knowledge. But this inner knowing was hard won, and though I always knew this on some level, I did not fully understand it as I do now. Still, every experience in unique. I miss being next to his body and his knowing spirit, but in a way I feel him in me. His knowing. His love, and his understanding.