The feelings

 We're officially out of quarantine. And it's HOT. Muggy. Breezy. Rainy. Mostly overcast, though sometimes haltingly sunny. Glaring. And most of all, it's the kind of warm that envelops you as soon as you walk outside, clinging to every inch of your body. 

I always knew it would be warm, but degrees on a thermometer don't convey how your body is going to feel. The degrees are mental constructs until you're in it. It's 11:30am and I'm outside sitting in a shaded spot by the pool (just knowing I can hop in the pool is relief). Drinking mint tea (hot--bad move). I know that when it's 88 degrees in Seattle I overheat. Seattle, however, has that lovely sea breeze, so that even when it's hot, you still get that cool breath of relief. Even in Sydney 80-90+ degrees was hot. But somehow Singapore's hot is overwhelming. 

Getting out of quarantine was a milestone that signaled our ability to move once again. My first post-quarantine errand--finding yarn to finish my quarantine blanket. I didn't fully read the pattern (surprise) so ran out of one of the yarn colors. Luckily, there are two Spotlights in Singapore, one of which is only 1.7 miles from where we're staying! Golden. I love a 1.7 mile stroll, I'm a huge fan of walking. But 10 minutes in, I could already feel my clothes sticking to my back with sweat. 20 minutes in it started dripping. My breath was a little labored. Two weeks of near immobility and more than three weeks without running does affect the cardio.

Walking isn't going to be quite as much fun as I was hoping. With the mask on it's even worse, it makes my sweaty face take on a deeper hue of pink that I feel makes my novice status even more apparent. 

The air conditioning, that is blasted everywhere, is a relief until my body acclimates and heads the other direction--too cold. There's a sweet spot here somewhere, and I'm determined to find it. 

Those are just the temperature feelings. There are a LOT of feelings right now. I think before we left, I'd numbed myself to a lot of them. I mean, there were still a lot of the feelings--I cried every day for weeks before we left--but it came in fits and starts. Saying goodbye to friends and family was awful. When I was a kid, I used to spend every other weekend with my mom, and the drop-offs on Sunday nights were always heart wrenching. Goodbye for another few weeks to one of the most important people in my world. Every goodbye since then has echoed back to this, which is why I often try to put up a wall and make my goodbyes quicker. Less painful, at least in the moment. 

The painful moments come later when I'm alone with time on my hands. That space in between. I barely allowed the space in between while we were in quarantine. I was relaxed, with time, but I filled the time with crocheting, puzzles, TV. And eating, eating, eating. Also, Marcus was always there, ever present. Right now I find myself alone, truly alone for the first time in months. No Marcus. No work. No moving or packing or life shifting planning (not at the moment, anyway). The major shift has already happened, and now...what? 

I don't have friends to say, hey, let's go do a thing. I don't have regular haunts. I don't have my garden to get stuck into. My craft supplies are en route. And the heat is acting as a slight barrier to exploring, for now. Also, I haven't explored solo for a long time, and I need to give myself that extra boost to get my singular ass motivated and out the door. 

Other feelings moments...on Sunday morning, Marcus and I were both antsy. Pacing in the last few hours of quarantine. Both of our stomachs were reacting, as if we were just about to land at the airport. The quarantine bubble made it feel like we weren't actually here, like we were in some middle no (wo)man's land. So you know that anxiety that comes before travel? And in the plane as you're on the descent, getting ready to land? That's where we were, as we waited for the clock to tick to 12:30 and for a minder to come knock at our door to let us know we were allowed to leave. 

Then Sunday night, our first night at the serviced apartment, neither of us could sleep. We tossed and turned all night, overheating. I had anxiety welling up through my entire torso--my chest and stomach full of swirl and waves of pressure. It was like the first day of school, the day before Marcus went back into the office for work. And for me, it was the first day of a real vacuum. I made myself a small "to do" list, but it was pretty short. By the time I got back from my expedition to Spotlight, I was exhausted. The heat had sapped me. The lack of sleep depleted my energy levels. And on top of that, I hadn't eaten enough or kept my fluids up. Shake all that up with my newfound void, and it's quite a recipe.

It was always going to be a roller coaster. Here are some dips.