The Days I Remember I’m Alive
It was a Saturday evening. Yet again I had that feeling, that itch to go somewhere. It’s the weekend. I’m an unsupervised adult. I can do what I want.
There is something about that moment, when your brain reminds you that you don’t have to ask permission. You can just… go. Especially when you’re travelling solo.
I woke up super early the next day. It was so quiet, even the birds were asleep still. I’ve checked the weather forecast and it looked fine - so I've packed my bags, jumped in the car and just... drove to Wales. No plan, just a rough idea of a destination, a tank full of petrol and a hope that I packed everything I might need. There wasn’t much traffic at that time, so there was just me and the hum of the tyres on the motorway. Golden sun slowly rising behind me as I kept going West.
Of course that wasn’t the first time I did something like that.
My most recent trip - Chee Dale Stepping Stones - was pretty much the same. I’ve been reminded about the place and literally “planned” the trip within the hour (if you can call “yea, I’m gonna go there” planning). A sudden desire to go for a hike in the Peak District. Any trip to a zoo. A weekend getaway to a different country.
But it’s not just travel. The amount of times I’ve rearranged my entire flat because I felt like a change is probably higher than I’m willing to admit. The amount of side projects I’ve started is… almost embarrassing (the amount I’ve actually finished is probably even worse). Be it DIY, electronics, some software that never made it out of my computer… I love doing it. Even writing a blog post, despite how rarely I do it, scratches the same itch.
I think these are the days I remember I’m alive.
You can go through the motions for months, years even, before realising you’ve been living on an autopilot. It was like that with me and my first car - it was a tool. Something for the commute, groceries, family visits. Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic to buy it - finally I could deal with the day to day life with ease! It took me a year to realise: Wait… I can just get in and go somewhere. Anywhere.
That thought landed harder than it should have.
Two days later I was climbing Three Crowns.
That trip wasn’t planned. It wasn’t efficient, practical, or, let’s be honest, prepared at any level. But it was mine. I remember it so clearly, despite the passing years.
I don’t know why it took so long to click, you know? No one told me I couldn’t travel. No one ever said I needed a reason. Why was I waiting for permission?
*
The funny part is… I keep forgetting.
Life gets in the way. There’s always something to do, something I’m putting off, willingly or not, that craves my attention. Another fire to put out or another one to set alight. Bills, laundry, cleaning, dishes, cooking, eating, geez, there’s a lot to just keep oneself alive. But that’s not enough to keep yourself alive.
Being alive, for me, feels like momentum. You start, accelerate like a rocket, and you don’t want to stop. You catch yourself grinning for no reason, standing on top of the hill without knowing how you got there, doing things without care in the world. You run through the rain. You speed past the people, paying no attention that they look at you funny. You do the things for the sake of doing them and you never want this feeling to stop. More. Faster. Higher.
And then you crash.
The Everyday catches up to you.
It’s Monday again.
*
At first, there’s still some warmth left - you describe your adventure to your loved ones, to your friends and colleagues… but the colour eventually fades, and the fire, once alight, becomes just ashes. The bland grey returns. You slow down, slip back into the rhythm of the Everyday.
Wake up. Do things. Go to sleep. Repeat.
It can take a while, you know? To pick up the pieces. To realize - you can be alive again. And then it hits you like a ton of bricks.
And you have a choice - let it knock you down or think fast and jump.
Use the impact to launch yourself. Ride the shockwave.
Suddenly you’re a rocket again, flying into space.