A No-Name Kind of day

 

Today is one of those days again—the kind that comes and goes like an unexpected tide. I can’t quite put my finger on my emotions. I just feel… weird.

And just as a by-the-way: most times I feel like this, I look up the moon phase, and without fail—it’s waxing gibbous. Almost full. Nearly there. The push before the pull. I believe we’re affected by the moon, just as the sea is, just as every living, breathing thing is. We are creation. We are tide.

Back to my “no-name” feeling.

I laugh. I joke. I get on with my usual day, ticking boxes and doing what needs to be done. On the outside, I’m functioning perfectly fine. But inside—something is screaming. Loud. So loud it hurts.

I want to cry, but don’t. Maybe I have no reason.

Or maybe I have a million reasons.

But the tears feel wasted on any of them.

I chose this path. After divorce, I made the call—I want to be single. I want to live life on my terms. Do my thing. I meant it then, and I mean it now.

And yet… I miss touch.

I miss intimacy.

I miss having someone I can share even the nameless feelings with—someone who understands without needing a full explanation.

This isn’t about missing my ex. There was never a day with him that held what I’m craving now. I didn’t have this with him. This ache isn’t for him. It’s for the idea of connection I never had but still somehow long for.

How do we move through this? Why can’t I just be alone and fully satisfied? Why can’t I always stay focused on the future and the promise it holds?

Maybe it’s because I’m standing at the edge of another ending—preparing to say goodbye at the end of this month. Maybe it’s the anticipation of the new journey, the gathering winds of change. Maybe it’s all the what could have beens still whispering in the corners.

Maybe it’s the lies I had to live through, and the ones that still show up, uninvited.

Maybe it’s fear—will I ever be able to trust again? To love fully? And what would that even look like, when I’ve never known how?

Add to that the practical weight: my car is on a hoist in a garage, refusing to offer any clear answer yet. Financial anxiety peeks around the corner. I still need things for the caravan and the road ahead. And while everyone else seems to have the world’s time—I want everything done yesterday.

And so here I am, again, pulling my feelings apart like tangled thread.

Trying to find the root of the ache.

Trying to name the unnameable.

But I’ll keep smiling. I’ll keep hoping that later today—or maybe tomorrow—the weight lifts. Even just a little.

Maybe that’s the whole point of the road I’m about to travel—not just to see new places, but to learn how to sit with days like these. To honour them. To keep going anyway. This journey isn’t just about freedom—it’s about finding peace with the pieces. Even the no-name ones.

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe