On public toilets and roller coasters of a completely different kind

There’s nothing like going to the mountainside when you’re low. There’s nothing like a good hike up to shed all your weary thoughts and feel in control again. There’s nothing more overwhelming than going to the mountainside when you’re happy. Especially when you go down to the local pub after a solid hike, feeling the effort in your thighs, get a perfect pint of Guinness and the night air is fresh and even the toilets smell like mountainside toilets should. I felt as if all the happiness was about to burst me open and the only thing I could find to do about it was cry. Who would think that public toilets could trigger such reactions… (funnily enough, a few more memorable moments of this trip involved standing outside public toilets in the night).
Anyway, I am not a religious person, but I stood outside those toilets for good five minutes crying and praying to The One Up There that s/he would not take this away from me. Cause all this feels as if s/he had finally decided that I had been through enough now and it was time to give me a break.

But highs like that exhaust you too. And then the vile little voice of the messed up person you used to be makes itself heard and tells you that all this is wrong and you’re just winding yourself up but we’ve been there before and we know how it is going to end. And you listen even if you don’t want to, cause it just makes sense – indeed, we’ve been there before and there’s no reason why this should be any different. I suppose that sleepless nights caused by a deflating air-bed did not help there.

But then someone makes you coffee and your rational thinking kicks in and you realise that what really is the matter is that being that happy is a scary feeling, cause you just can’t help looking over your shoulder as if someone or something was going to steal it away from you or make you pay for it. And that you’ve been single for far too long and enjoyed it far too much, and that mainly is all there is to it.