Lackluster

When we arrived here, I knew we were lucky to have a haven in nature – even if it meant our shower walls were crumbling and producing mold, the trailer was severely slanted, and winters were bitterly cold.

I determined to make the best of it and learned how to tend the land, attempted to fit in with the locals, and took command of our options.

But, as soon as we arrived, I felt way back then it was over for me and my fiance.

Something about my moving here to procure us a home, and maybe the hardships I’d endured dissuaded him. Maybe it was his exhaustion in holding on through everstretching unknowns. Maybe it was we were now so far from our dream of San Francisco.

I remember gazing out at the forest night through the kitchen window, catching a glimpse of my reflection – worn and haggard as the truth hit me hard before years since finally proved it.

Broken, I guess, was the feeling. For when you go beyond your best to create miracles where none existed before, being unwanted in your triumph is devastating.

It is no wonder I could not stomach doing the dishes and had anxiety when veering near cooking. Food insecurity equals uncertainty in ability to receive life’s nourishment.

I balked at having a desolate future.