When things feel extra craptastic, I always commit to finding the good in them. I like this about me. I’ve been trying to recover from a bout of viral meningitis and have run the gamut of feelings, (real or imagined): Continue reading “Sickness, Surrender, & Softness”
I’m good. I’m fine.
I tell myself that even when I am physically sick, I am somehow charged with at least making the effort to will myself well. I try this every single time I am ill, and I never succeed. Today is no different. Continue reading “Under Ar(rest) & Truthful Ad(mission)s”
As I stand at the base of the highest mountain I have ever seen, I squint to view its highest peak. I try to appraise what it will take to reach its top. How can anyone possibly live through this painful and dangerous climb? I try to count all of its jagged edges above the timberline, but there are too many to track. I panic. I don’t know anything about the other side of the mountain. I acknowledge that my understanding of this risky venture can only be accurately evaluated by walking to the other side of the mountain along its base. Continue reading “A Fear of Peaks (and Valleys)”
I almost hate to put the anniversary of 9/11/01 beside National Recovery Month, but everything seems to connect somehow to that fateful day, getting real and honest about the impact of it, and getting real and honest about how we cope or can’t cope is what connects us to recovery.
Today, in the year 2001, everything changed. I can only speak for me, but as inherently fearful and geared toward sadness as I was before 9/11, the volume of my fear and sadness resounded at a higher decibel and with more frequency.
It still does, but I work very hard to locate a peaceful and serene volume and that happens almost solely by working with and helping others.
I am currently in my 19th year of sobriety, but up until this year, I had absolutely no idea there was a, National Recovery Month. Continue reading “This Day and National Recovery Month.”
Disclaimer: This post is about feelings more than it is about facts.
FACT: I stopped being capable of feeling my feelings and it nearly broke my heart.
Every so often, when I read other people’s writing and they spew about their feelings, I think, “This feels like masturbation that’s been typed out.” (Yes, I know that’s judgmental, but while I periodically judge, I also quite enjoy these emotive posts.) If you think that’s what I’m doing in my posts, well… I hope you don’t think I’m doing this in my posts. I don’t really write for me, I write for you. I’d rather think of my writing as a way to engage with you and if you’re struggling to get past something, or think you’re the only one who thinks or feels a certain way, you’re not. If anything resonates with you and gives you some hope or less aloneness, this has purpose.
On a side note, masturbation also has its purpose, but I’m not going to get into that right now.
Earlier this year, the shackles which “guarded” my heart for many decades, flew open. Continue reading “A Closed Heart is Heartbreaking, but it Melts.”