I’ve spent this summer feeling stuck. It was early July when E asked me if we could change the time of a session, and I spun off, soaring through space and landing on Planet “I-can’t-trust-her;-she-doesn’t-really-care,” where I have been residing uncomfortably ever since.

It’s cold and miserable on this planet, which must be a couple million light years beyond Pluto. My bones freeze out here. It’s sad, frightening and lonely; there’s no one to keep me company. Some days I stomp around in rage, but the only thing that happens is that I kick up a little frozen dust.

I have protested. I have strategized. I have pretended I’m not truly here. I have thought about it. I have avoided thinking about it. But in over two months, I haven’t figured out how to get off this frigid, lonely planet.

I have texted E (excellent cell reception out here), and from far away, she’s texted back. But those texts don’t carry me home.

Yesterday, I sat on the icy ground to meditate. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. And it came to me: I have to accept this, too. Stuck out here. That’s just where I am right now. I won’t be here forever, but it’s where I am right now. I can stop fighting it and let it be what it is.

And with that realization, it feels just a little less cold up here.