the outdoors held me
August was car camping.
Sleeping close to the ground. Living out of bags. Letting the day decide the shape of itself instead of the other way round.
River swims. Waterfall dips. Cold, moving water that didn’t ask questions or need answers. Just immersion. Just being held by something bigger than my thoughts.
Camping with found family. People who didn’t need the backstory. People who let me be quiet or feral or joyful without commentary. Shared food. Shared fires. Shared ease.
I released myself to the outdoors in August.
Gave my nervous system somewhere wide to stretch out.
There was so much peace there. Not the fragile kind. The solid kind that comes from sleeping under sky and waking with the light. From real tiredness. From bodies moving the way they’re meant to.
I didn’t talk much about grief.
I didn’t analyse it.
I didn’t try to understand myself better.
I just existed.
August became my whole vibe.
Bare feet. Cold water. Long days.
A reminder that I belong to the natural world as much as I belong to my thoughts.
I felt held.
And for a while, that was enough.
