It’s cold outside, quietly raining every so often. The wind blows the tree branches outside my window and sometimes it looks like I must be hanging off the earth.

It feels nice to pull on this years first cardigan. Wrap it around myself for support. I put Dire Straits on my little vinyl record player which sits on my nightstand. I remember listening to these songs when I was little, sitting in Dad’s truck. He’s sitting in the drivers seat, and when the chorus comes on he breaks out into an air guitar solo, eyes closed, body succumbing to the music. Now I sit, 15 years later, and the familiar solo sounds. I can’t not get up – not for my enjoyment – but to keep his alive. Closing my eyes and swaying around in my bedroom with my arms around myself, I am back in the truck watching Dad.

There’s so much on my to do list in this moment, but I can’t seem to bring myself back to reality. For a little while anyway.

Throughout the morning, my mind wanders and I find myself thinking, How wonderful are the waves at the beach, rolling in and creeping back out. How lucky am I to be here, just be here right now.

I then realise I have an internal battle of light and dark when I imagine the sight of myself walking along in life with my head down, haunted.

Hours pass and I progress none. The day ends with rubbed eyes and shaking hands and I surrender to the fact of failure today.

But, tomorrow I will visit the beach and write about the wonderful waves, and how lucky I am to just be. Here.