I feel dried up and exposed, like this amazing tree I took a photo of on the beach in Yahats, OR. Almost half of its roots, worn smooth and gray-white (like almost everything left long enough in the elements), were exposed where the bank had been washed away in a big storm. It was December, near my 30th birthday, and as my eyes followed the trunk I marveled at this trees tenacity and will to live, the courage it takes to grow fragile leaves when whole sections of what once rooted it to the ground hung dead in the air above bedrock overgrown with lichen.

Today I'm trying to remember that I'm chipped, not broken, that I am overwhelmed, not suicidal (which is a sort of victory for me), and that really, it's okay, I'm okay. It is only a week into 2007, but been a hard month already, and I'm looking for clarity about how I can take care of myself and support those I love and care about amidst and through the elemental chaos we are exposed to this winter, into the beginnings that exist intertwined with endings.

My mad partner and I struggle with chronic pain and depression in different forms, including SAD, so winters are most often a hard time in our house. We both went off of our long-term psych meds this summer, so this winter has been more strained, lonely and volatile than usual. I have learned so much truth from listening to her, and lately I'm missing her voice as she trudges through her own darkness and struggles with increasing pain.

My non-mad partner's grandfather has been battling lung cancer. We have just made arrangements to make the drive back across two mountain passes for a (in all probability last) visit, funeral clothes packed. Even when things are not as rough for me, spending concentrated time with my partner's cherished biological family is often stressful for me, queer, pagan, political, bipolar, black sheep that I am. I have an unfortunate history of getting stressed-out and overwhelmed when we're spending time with them, because I'm not always good at making small talk and pretending to be less crazy than I am for the benefit of my beloved and these good people I share her with. I'm guessing that this visit will be even more full of stress than usual.

The apartment building of one of my closest friends caught on fire New Year's Day. Luckily, no one (human or animal) was hurt, I think his neighbor's goldfish was even saved. While driving to his place to help him pack up his stuff left in the apartment yesterday, my 1989, 3 cylinder Subaru Justy (think old VW Rabbit) was apparently in the way of someone who found it necessary to cross several lanes of traffic on a deserted road at 8:45am on a Sunday morning to crash into my humble mechanical equivalent of an old (yet relatively fuel-efficient) gray mare.

I somehow made it to the local Icarus meeting after the crash and ended up feeling useless amidst the pain of seeing someone I've come to care so much about struggling deeply. I felt used-up and useless to help her and I'm so angry at myself for not knowing what to do or say. I want to know how to help someone else in the midst of their pain and chaos, whether I understand it or not.

Amidst all the reasonable words I use to remind myself about being a limited being, and the truth that I am so lucky (both to have family and friends that I care about and trust, and that none of us have been physically hurt amidst any of the recent crisis), I also feel overwhelmed. What scares me the most right now is that I don't know if I have enough to support my partners and friends through all of this, all at once. I want so badly to be stronger than I am, to use everything I've learned in my own journeys to write, speak and reach out to other people, to support them, to let them know that they're not alone. Sometimes I hate feeling so fragile, so easily muddled, so easy to overturn and upend.

Whole sections of what once rooted me to the ground hang in the air above hard bedrock, so I'm reminding myself to eat and drink, making sure I sleep, trying to make useful lists of what needs to be done, trying to stay connected with the people I care about, and keep moving through my day when I just feel like smoking up and hiding under the covers. I wonder how to keep myself stable enough to be there when others need me without losing myself. I wonder about the very different strengths of rooted trees and crashing waves. I wonder how to hold on to life, nurture community, and feel gratitude as I walk through so much chaos.

~ Red