Tomorrow (Sunday) is the last day of my beach trip. I came here intending to read, intending to write, intending to think and meditate and breathe in the soothing, healing winds of the ocean. And while I have spent a fair amount of time on the beach, I have not read, and until now, I have not written. (Well, not much.)

I’m okay with this. One of the important parts of learning to manage one’s mental illness is also learning when to give yourself a break, when to allow yourself a step or two away from the responsibilities so often pressing on us. Working full time and being a full time grad student means that I don’t have a lot of time to rest. Add on the mental and emotional impact of a global pandemic and a world that’s shifting right before our eyes, and times that would normally be restful exist within the shadow of this changing world. Heightened anxiety and depressive lows have become more common for me.

If that means my trip to the coast is primarily spent walking on the beach, eating junk food, and watching nature documentaries on Netflix, then so be it.

Because come Monday, I will be back at work. I will be back to my usual homework routine. I will be back to jogging three times a week. And I will be reading and writing again with fervor, pushing myself to explore new boundaries within my own writing, while studying the boundaries in the writing of others. I will continue to type up the poems I’ve written so far this year (and oh my god y’all, it’s so. many. poems.), and I will be continuing to hone my craft so that I can also move forward after this program and ensure that my writing doesn’t falter. I don’t think it will; I took a year off after my bachelor’s and continued to write a lot during that time, so I think these habits will continue. Part of an M.F.A. is, after all, the developing of a consistent practice so that the writing doesn’t end when the deadlines do.

I did spend time out with the ocean this morning. It was early, probably about 7:00 AM. I walked around in the cool, cloudy ocean morning. I walked with my feet in the ocean water. I walked with my feet covered in the ocean’s sand. I walked with my heart beating in time with the tide. I have always loved the ocean. I love the forest the most (because trees), but the ocean has always carried a kind of magic for me. I know it does for a lot of people, but for me it’s always felt like home. I’ve written a lot about the ocean, about other bodies of water and my relationships with them, and every time I do, I feel like I learn more about myself.

I sang to the ocean this morning.

I fell asleep to the sound of ocean waves last night; in other words, the ocean sang me to sleep, and then this morning, I sang her awake. I love coming to the beach because it reminds me that life is cyclical and circular, that I am always in connection with nature, and that I must be mindful of how I use that connection. I feel safe and at home near the raging waves.

And it’s even more beautiful being here with someone I love.