July 11, 2022 (part 2)

I climbed to the peak and i have a signal, so i could post!

This day is to be the coolest day of the week. I'm still here at this campsite. I have healed here, but it's time to move on. I have overstayed my welcome and have carried the city toxins in on my car. It's not as pristine as it once was. I've asked Atticus to help me search for places that fit my criteria. He is seeing the difficulties of this. I know I can't sort through all of this without internet and when I am out, I'm driving to be sure to get what I need and return here in time to close for nightfall.

I fell apart yesterday after going into Walmart and finding no water. I buy 15 gallons now every three days. Sometimes, mid-day, I'll dump a gallon over body. It's been hovering around 95 degrees with no real shade. I drove to Safeway and they too were out. There was only one more store in town and I was lucky. They had just gotten a pallet full. I was shaking from the stress and told the guy at the checkout, the whole town was out of water. He said, "Yeah, we're having a problem with that." I put as many gallons as I could in the back of my car and a couple of cases of drink sized bottles into the passenger seat. An obnoxious sound kept repeating itself, a warning. It took me a minute to grasp that this was the car thinking the weight of the water was a person, and they'd not belted for safety. Flustered, anxious and overwhelmed, tears were streaming down my face. The bins I had been lifting, gallons of water, cases of water made my wrists and arms weak. My eyes were blurry as I found a place to pull over. That sound, that loud, repetitive noise pounding in urgency. I take one hand and shove the whole top case of water cockeyed to the floor just to make it stop.

This is what impaired driving looks like, I think to myself. A little ways down the road, I realize I could have seat-belted the water...or simply turned off the ignition. I am fraying. The entire day was spent on a mission for water. I drove an hour for water. What if I had not found any? Then what?

I had no real choice with food options. I will need to bathe and get into my tent. I eat food that i have not eaten in years when there are no other options. Fast food, sometimes. I was such a good cook.

I rejoiced in the preparation of healthy, delicious meals in a lively kitchen with music piping away.

Last night I had 3 boiled eggs an apple and a carrot. It was sufficient. I can't think of a real meal I have had or when that even was.

I tell Atticus I need to be near a Walmart for crucial basics, like cheap blankets, tents, water, and organic fruits and vegetables. I also explain my site cannot be near reservoirs or lakes and at this point no flowing waters. I think this stopped him. This is all by text.He mentions that most camping is near water and I already know this because recreation is a thing. I am not recreating.

I sit here now at an awkward angle sloped with the hillside. A plastic, felt backed, picnic tablecloth is attached to the only structure here. I've duck-taped it the to the foot wide sign which reads "Road closed." I guess awhile back folks would try to go up in altitude (toward the peak i hike regularly), and may have gotten stuck.The black and white striped cloth is anchored to the ground with tent stakes. This provides a tiny sliver of much needed shade. For the first time a few minutes ago, a Ranger came down the drive. He was wearing his regulation uniform with a patch on his sleeve and a cowboy hat. I had been waiting to be chased off. My heart is racing still, as it only needed a jumpstart after yesterday's trials.I knew my number was up. A wave of dread washed over me, embarrassment close on its heels. The forest green truck pulled in and backed up as if to park. He waved casually, badge gleaming in the sunlight, and slowly drove away as I was buckling my sandals readying to stand. Am i really going to be spared, at least for now? I wonder if this is a sign that I should go on living, fighting this battle, alone?

I named every reason why I shouldn't yesterday. A few days earlier I had named all for which I am grateful. The see-saw life of emotions. Seeing how this is so difficult to read and to write, I will share those for now.

Things for which I am grateful.

The sun to warm up the chilly mornings The soft breezes to cool hot days The moon so I can see shadows in the night. Acquiring boots before a disaster robbed my foundation. Thank you to everyone who made this possible. I love my boots. My friendly bird, (and only social morning visitor) joining me for breakfast. My mentor, for sharing dead on heartfelt quotes for the suffering, because I know she too, still suffers, and providing hope and strength for us is essential Kindness from strangers regardless of my obvious homeless appearance. Temperate nights for sleeping. Duck tape Appreciation of the bison and and the distance that has afforded us to not yet meet. A reliable vehicle even though it's not mine. And you people who are making it possible to rent another for one more month. People who believe I am on the path to wellness. The apparent and obvious healing milestones I have made thus far. People who realize and tell me this is not my fault. Recognition of Lyrics that have the same words yet seem to have changed with the weight of life. The jewel presence of flowers in an otherwise bleak landscape. Clouds that add interest to the hues of blue. Other people's happiness. My limber body to crawl in and out of my tent. My strong body since I have only myself to count on. Water. Warm water for a clean body. Fine tuning of awareness to see potential dangers. The kind words and support from all of you. The people that I can count on that love me.