The storms in a DC summer are fairly haphazard, but pretty spellbinding to behold when they happen. You can suddenly find yourself in a spot that gets completely slammed by rain, gust, and thunder— and there’ll be other spots where folks roam around in relative oblivion to Mother Nature’s wrath as she wreaks havoc on 395 traffic at rush hour. DC weather makes for outstanding spectator theater.
At this very moment, a storm cell is sweeping overhead and the round pebbles that coat my building’s rooftop are quickly turning shiny. There’s lightning and moving wind in the air now— it’s blowing the raindrops onto my notebook. I really should move, but goddamnit I love a good thunderstorm. A passing storm cell is not going to make me go anywhere, no matter how much it starts to blow. At least that’s my plan going into this afternoon display.
The thing with being drawn to extreme weather is that sometimes I don’t know when to pack it in and favor self-preservation. I’m not trying to say that I am a thrill seeker (quite the contrary— most nights I find myself in bed at 8pm). I just feel as though sometimes I test my own personal limits to a point that can be detrimental.
As of late I have been compiling a mental list of ailments that are the irrefutable result of my lifestyle choices. We’ve all got our gripes, but I guess that I am just now reaching the age where I see that I’m not exactly made of rubber. Nor am I waterproof.
The rain’s pretty loud now, and the uncountable splat marks are starting to paint my calves, despite the fact that I have restationed myself well underneath the overhang. I’m staying outside. Maybe it’s the stubborn New Englander in me, or maybe it’s the fact that I still feel a bit bulletproof. Or maybe I just want to create the illusion that I am bulletproof…even though I know that someday in the future all of my roads taken will result in a glorious game over. We humans love to test our limits, to live a little, and hopefully, in the process, not duck out of life too early because we lingered in one too many thunderstorms. Wisdom, coming with age, should be the thing that keeps us out of trouble.
I actually came up here to write about my frustration over modern medicine’s inability to resolve a couple of low grade physical ailments that I have been dragging around. Exhaustive testing points to normal, yet the inconvenient symptoms remain. Like the storms, the physical manifestations seem to come and go without rhyme or reason. They pop up seemingly when they want, and at some moments, I find myself feeling like one of those schmucks stuck outside with downpour water filling up her summer shoes. This is not often the kind of storm I like to weather.
I’m slowly starting to put together that there might just be a correlation to how my body performs and the amount of stress that I attempt to put on it. Again, perhaps it’s my upbringing, but I know that I tend to internalize far too much of the stress that I put myself under. It’s not an optimal coping mechanism, and as I see these not-so-phantom physical symptoms come and go, I’m starting to question my true ability to cope in times of “everyday crisis.” I think my body is paying the price for the bad habit of taking on too much.
There is good stress and there is bad stress. Me, I love the extremes that Mother Nature has to offer more than I would ever claim to love churn and personal drama. I enjoy a good physical challenge too— but as I get older I realize that my body is not responding with the bounce back that I once enjoyed as a thrill-seeking teenager. I’m a more tired now, and I need to do a better job of sitting down a bit more and chilling the fuck out.
The rain is still coming down, and my balcony chair is finally backed up against the brick wall. The pool of accumulating water on the deck is growing and making its way to where I sit. It would appear that I will soon be pushed to a decision point: either stay outside and soak my bag or collect my stuff and head indoors like a sane person. And I probably will. The best of the storm has already passed overhead— and I truly am trying to put this new practice of self-preservation into action. It’s not exactly an easy transition to make. The crazy weather is just far too intoxicating.
Whatever happens next, I know that life lived with excitement will continue, no matter my idea of its definition Even if it means finding amazement by hanging indoors with my nephew, watching the rain from inside as we become entranced by a ceiling fan— that too sounds like an afternoon that I would enjoy. Sometimes staying dry and redialing towards simplicity is a great thing too.