Posted in adventure, anxiety, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, love, meditation, Mental Health, Musings, People, spirit, spirituality

Turning Toward the Pain

If you have been following along on this scribbled down leg of my life’s journey with me, then you know that I have been through some STUFF. Since I started this relationship with WordPress years ago, I have shared my stories of addiction, recovery, relapse, and more recently, my exit from recovery. I have talked about guilt, shame, parenting fails, anxiety, depression, and probably a trillion other things I couldn’t possibly remember right now. I have talked about God, about my spiritual life, about my desire to evolve, be better, do better. I write a lot about the times I get up, and I probably write a lot more about the times when I feel knocked down. These are the things I need to speak from my heart more urgently. These are the things I feel called to share.

If you have ever thought “Man, this poor girl can’t catch a break- it’s always something!” I want to be clear that there are always times when I could choose to take a time-out. There are probably months worth of posts where I have been gliding along, feeling peaceful, overflowing with gratitude. But it is my nature to seek. I feel in my soul the urge to grow and change and untangle the knots of who I am. It is inherently part of what makes me me.

This latest little series of posts is no different- although, of course, it is different than anything else I have been through. It’s just a new set of interesting things I am sorting through and figuring out. I am not lost, I am not in over my head, I am not losing my hold on reality. I do not need to be fixed. I am not broken. To the contrary, I am strong, resilient, capable, and independent to a fault.

On that note, I want to tell you that it is entirely possible to be strong, resilient, capable and independent, and still be a walking vessel for fear. I am still afraid, all the time, about things I can’t control. Most, if not all, of them are made up scenarios in my head that I dream up to torture myself. Why do I do this? I couldn’t say. Perhaps I spend too much time alone and have a bit too much going on in the imagination department. If my life were a TV show,  the scenes unfolding in my head would be hilarious. Unfortunately, this is real life, and they aren’t funny in the moment.

I am going through a little phase of this right now. My anxiety is flaring up, my imagination is firing on all cylinders, and the fear is revving its engine, just waiting to tear off down the track, dragging me behind it. And you know what? WHATEVER.

That’s the word I’ve chosen to deal with all of it. WHATEVER. Okay, brain, fine, do your worst. I’m just gonna hang on and let this thing play itself out. I can survive it. I’ve done it a million times before. I have done therapy, read books, reasoned with myself, tried distraction, prayer, meditation…you name it. So, fine. If I insist on continuing this way, then whatever. I accept it.

No, you know what? I more than accept it. This feeling in the pit of my stomach, the harbinger of nerves to come? I embrace it. This feeling comes from a place of deep, if misguided, love. And how lucky am I to love so much that sometimes it hurts me? I wish that my relationship with love didn’t hold so much fear, but right now it does, and while I am working on a solution, I want to take a moment to acknowledge how brave my spirit must be…to be so afraid, and still be able to love the way I do. At least when it comes to my children, I am an open channel of never-ending love, and it is terrifying, but it is also the best, most beautiful part of my life.

So today, rather than admonish myself for my inconvenient feelings, I am going to turn towards them. Turn towards the pain and the fear, and say “I see you. I get it. I understand why you keep showing up.” Maybe I just need to learn to sit with it, instead of always running away. Show my fear, and the pain it causes, some tenderness and understanding, because it’s a part of me, and it comes from a place in me that is hurting. I am not broken. But there are depths I have not explored and places inside that I keep locked away, even from myself. I’m getting closer, all the time, to letting the light in.

I think it’s pretty human to want to get away from things that don’t feel good. Whether it’s a bad pair of shoes, or feelings that make us uneasy or cause us distress- pain, fear, worry, jealousy, anger, sadness. We always want the sunny ones, but the darker ones we feel the need to change, resolve, hide, analyze, fix. But there is value in the painful stuff. There’s a reason, and there’s growth there…painful feelings are trying to tell us something we need to hear. Sometimes it’s just hard to listen because we can’t be still with them. I’m going to try really hard to listen this time.

Feeling less than okay is okay. Today I give myself permission to feel my feelings without judging them or trying to change them, with no expectation of a different outcome. I just want to see how it feels to do something different. I want to see where this path leads.

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Posted in happiness, inner peace, Learning, Life, love, meditation, Musings, People, spirit, spirituality

Spiritual Meltdown

This is now my third attempt at this post, and if I make it through this one without spinning off into incomprehensibility, it will feel like a win. Here’s the deal- I am not well versed in the language of spiritual experiences. I can create a vulgarity-laced diatribe so naturally that it is impressive…I mean, almost poetic sometimes. I have made combinations of dirty words so offensive that even I have been shocked every now and again. I am literal, and matter-of-fact, and, though I love the idea of magical, mystical, whimsical things, I am practical enough to take things with a grain of salt.

Yet here I am, nine days since my regression, and I’m pretty sure I’m in the midst of a spiritual…I don’t know what to call it, honestly. At first it felt like a shift, then I thought maybe an awakening? But now I kind of want to call it a meltdown. I think I’m having a spiritual meltdown, you guys. Oh, and by the way, if you don’t know what in the world I am talking about when I mention my regression, you can read about it here and then the follow-up here.

My head is so crazy with thoughts that I can’t even keep up a little bit. I am no longer even trying to follow along anymore. It’s like ( and forgive me if I’ve already used this analogy previously, I can’t remember) a door was opened up and now all the contents behind that door are rushing out into my conscious mind, clamoring for attention. I feel like I should be carrying around a notebook so I can scribble down the bits and pieces, but I also feel like I would be writing all day long. That’s how nutty it is.

I think, once my head settles down, I might be able to sort through them a bit and make some posts about the important ones, but right now things are so fragmented and scattered that it’s just not possible. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was going crazy, to be honest. If this happened to me without context, I would be very worried. But I can see that my regression experience was some sort of catalyst, and now I am just at the start of something I haven’t dealt with before, so I’m not really afraid. I’m just…hopeful that things settle down soon. I can’t really make use of something that makes no sense.

I’m about 95% sure that I am rambling right now, and goddammit, I am trying hard not to. I am going to try to explain. I thought it would be cool to see a past life, to have that experience, and it WAS. It was so cool! Did I wonder if it was real? Yep, I sure did. I also thought I would do that thing, and then go on with life, no big deal. Instead, two days later, I started seeing parallels between my current life and the life I visited, and realized I needed to pay attention. On the tails of that, I was hit with the realization that my priorities (and those of the world in general) are wrong, my perception of myself was incorrect, and the way that I think is problematic. Simultaneously, I got that judgement (of myself and others- like, my number one favorite thing.) has got to stop, that forgiveness (of myself and others, which I SUCK at) is imperative, and that love is the most important thing, period. Which is great, love is GREAT, but I have these super massive walls in place because I’m terrified of vulnerability, and love and vulnerability are like BFF’s, you know.

So…I mean, WTF?! Not to mention the fact that I have cried, a LOT, every single day since then. I’m no robot, but I have gone years before without crying even once. It’s 6:28 in the morning, and I already ugly-sobbed once today! WHAT is HAPPENING to me? For once in my life, not only are the right words escaping me, but I do not know where to turn for guidance, because I don’t even know what this is. I’ve googled “Spiritual Awakening”, “Spiritual Shift”, “What happens after a past life regression”, you name it, I’ve googled it. There are certain things that fit, but lots that don’t. If you can think of anything, I am listening. Point me in a direction, I’ll do the work.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that work, which is a struggle for me even in “normal” times (whatever normal is in relation to me), has become barely tolerable in the midst of all this spiritual chaos. I have been a little nervous that I would just quit my job due to the pointlessness of it all, though rationally I do understand that having a home and being able to eat are rather important. It just seems so…stupid. Working while contemplating the eternal nature of our souls and our purpose here on earth. It certainly isn’t to memorize diagnosis codes or clear edits for patient billing. Blech.

This morning, when I prayed, I thanked God for this new perspective, but asked if he could kindly slow the whole thing down a little bit for me. Maybe show me one area to think about at a time, give me a place to start rather than a million little hints. What came up in meditation was self-forgiveness, which, as I mentioned above, is rather difficult for me. Forgiveness of all kinds. So, that is what I am going to be try to focus on over the next few days, and see if I can make some progress.

I’ll certainly be back soon. I have so much to say, and just hope I can find the words without sounding like I’ve gone off the deep end. I assure you, I have not. As a matter of fact, as strange as it all may seem, I can’t help but wonder if this is perhaps the most clear sighted I have ever been? I never, ever, not in a million trillion years, would have thought that one regression would shake me up in this way. I have no idea if this has ever happened to anyone else, because I can’t find any information on it. But I’m not sorry. I’m just surprised. I really hope some of this made sense to someone. If not, well…that’s okay, too. I needed to get it out.

Talk to you soon!

Posted in adventure, happiness, inner peace, Learning, Life, manifestation, Musings, People, spirit, spirituality, Uncategorized

Two Days Later

It’s been two days since my regression, and…I thought it was all over with. Cool experience, some doubting that experience, gleaned some interesting insights, obviously cannot stop thinking about it.

But life goes on right? Went back to work yesterday, had the longest, most painfully awful day…I couldn’t tell you why it felt that way if I tried, but I felt that I was genuinely suffering. Forced myself to run some errands last night, battled with myself the whole way through. Made a nice dinner for Cam and I, stressing throughout the process. Sat down feeling resentful and unappreciated and…just mad. Woke up this morning, rushed through our routine feeling like a frazzled drill sergeant-‘why is she so slow?!’ ‘why does she pull this crap every day?’ ‘I’m so SICK of this shit!’- Basically my internal monologue. Pleasant, right?

I’m honestly in tears right now, writing this out. Because it hit me, like a two-ton weight just now, that I AM DOING IT AGAIN. Just like HER. Petulant, spoiled, determined to grouse and complain and never, ever feel like anything is good enough. I know how crazy this whole thing sounds- I mean, it has to, right? But it feels so, so important and real and obvious to me right now. The clarity with which I am suddenly seeing the parallels…well, I guess I couldn’t have possibly seen them prior to the regression, of course, but seeing it now…wow.

I know I struggle with gratitude. I connect with it at times, but other times- long, bleak stretches of time- I can’t get there. I have an incredible life. I’m not even going to go into all the ways that it is so good, because I don’t want to get bogged down in making a list that I’ve made a hundred times before. It doesn’t even matter. What matters is that I know it, and that I feel it, and that I realize what a goddamn miracle I am. I stacked the odds against myself right out of the gate- I did everything I could do to make my life hard, and I fought myself- not anyone else, ME- to get back on track again.

I have been on the receiving end of more chances, more forgiveness, more blessings and grace and luck than anyone will ever know. I don’t know why, I have no answer for that. But I know that it is true. So how in the HELL am I still sitting here, complaining? Feeling mad? Hating my job that has given me a life I could not have dreamed up because my mind wasn’t capable of thinking that abundantly. Stomping my way through Target on my strong, capable, healthy legs, mad that my beautiful, curious, funny child won’t stop bothering me. Upset because…because why? Just what is it that I want? What is it that is wrong?

I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to that. Probably because there isn’t one. There is not one good reason for me to be anything other than content. And right now I am feeling really ashamed of myself. Or maybe that’s not right, either. I think I just feel sad for myself. That I let myself wind up here. After seeing that other life…another blessed woman, another person who couldn’t be pleased. I know how that story ended. I don’t want this story to go that way.

My buddy Cinamon sent me a text last night, after reading my last post. She wanted to know if I thought my life would change now that I had seen what I’d seen. My immediate reaction was “NO.” I didn’t say that, but it’s what I thought. “I don’t need to change, I can’t change, why would I change?” were the defensive, knee-jerk reaction answers that bubbled up. But it isn’t true. I can change, and I HAVE to change, or my life will be sour and empty and sad. I am sure this sounds super melodramatic, but I promise you, it is the truth. You know me here, what I write, what I choose to share. Or even if we are friends in real life, there’s a good chance you have very little idea what my inner life is like. I have made a hobby of dissatisfaction, and I’m so…difficult. Even with myself. The closer you are to me, the more you know I speak the truth. And it’s such a waste of time. It’s so dumb.

I have no idea how to stop being this way. I am pretty sure it’s not just going to go away without a bit of a struggle. But I can’t unsee what my soul chose to show me, and I can’t un-know the truths that are being revealed. I asked for this, I prayed for it, even. It was given to me for a reason…so that maybe I could have a chance to do better this time around. I sure didn’t expect for all of this to come up, but here it is. I guess I have some work to do.

That regression opened up something that wants to stay open. It’s not scary or anything, but it’s pretty fucking real.  Thoughts are popping into my head that are not the kinds of things I normally think…it’s like, my voice, but instructions: “Just do everything with love. Whatever it is, do it with love.” That’s a pretty good one. There are others, but I’ll wait. This is already a lot. If you made it through all this, bless you. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but I’ll definitely be sharing whatever it is.

Posted in adventure, inner peace, Life, meditation, Musings, People, relationships, spirituality

My Past Life Regression

It has now been about three hours since my regression, and it was recommended to me to write out the details, as I could probably remember far more than I was able to describe to Ann, the woman I went to for this experience. I’d like to mention that she is also an LMFT and has many years experience doing this…it wasn’t some roadside shack I went to, LOL!

You guys will have to forgive me if this isn’t as well thought out as I might normally write, but I have a ton of information in my brain wanting to come out, so bear with me.

The first thing you should know is that I have ALWAYS been interested in having a regression, and I have ALWAYS believed in reincarnation- even before I knew what that was, exactly. I was one of those creepy kids who could remember several of my past lives as a child, and it was natural as could be for me- I joke when I say “creepy kids” because I know for a fact there is nothing creepy about it in the slightest for the kid who is remembering. It’s as natural as picturing your bedroom when you are away from home, or your mother’s face when you are at school- just normal. Frustrating, though, when no one remembers what you are talking about except you- not even the people you know were there with you, albeit with different bodies than they have in this life. As a kid, you don’t question that odd fact, again, it just is what it is.

But I finally decided to seek out regression for myself in hopes of dealing with an issue that has been plaguing me in this lifetime. For whatever reason, when both of my daughters turned six, in their respective times, I developed a crippling, horrible anxiety about something terrible happening to them. Every illness, in my mind, was something terrible. Every moment they were out of my sight was torture. I was positive, deep in my heart, that some terrible fate was about to befall them. This lasted until my older daughter was 13, and then, poof! It was gone. Then my little one hit six, and it started all over again.

I found Ann Barham online, after doing a little research with Google. I was thrilled to find out she was only half an hour away from me, and even more excited when I realized I could just book an appointment with her simply because I wanted to. It wasn’t out of control expensive, there wasn’t a year long wait…I couldn’t believe it. I went ahead and read her book “The Past Life Perspective” prior to seeing her, and it was very interesting and informative…I highly recommend checking it out if you are so inclined. I told her, via email, what my issue was, and she agreed it was worth looking into.

Which leads me to today. You guys, I was so excited for days preceding this appointment. I was thrilled this morning. Then, as the time got closer, I started to get scared. What if it didn’t work on me? What if I couldn’t be hypnotized? I am, after all, a mega control freak (nifty side effect of my anxiety) so this wasn’t totally an unreasonable worry. I got to her home office thirty minutes early, and sat outside in my car, trying to get a hold of myself.

At 9:55 exactly, I rang her bell. She came out, brought me inside, and we chatted a bit while I filled out some paperwork. She explained the process to me, let me pick out a blankie (seriously) and had me get comfy on this awesome chaise lounge, and then it began. If you’ve ever done any guided meditation, that’s what the whole beginning process is like. There were plenty of moments when my panicked brain kept going “This isn’t working!”, but then I would focus back on her voice and find myself lulled again.

Finally, it was my turn…I’m going to be 1000% honest here and tell you that I really wondered at first if I was making it all up. She asked me to look at my feet, and I clearly saw pointy black leather boots on a pair of very dainty feet. They had hook and eye buttons, and they were standing in a dusty road. I was wearing a dress with many petticoats, a fitted bodice, and eyelet-looking sleeves. I could see my own face, with delicate features and curly blonde hair pulled up. I also had a hat on, though I didn’t mention that at the time.

So there I was, on that dusty road, and I was mad. I was mad because I’d married a man I thought I loved and followed him across the country from a life where I was very privileged, to a town where there was nothing. Here’s the thing to know about this lifetime as this woman- she was spoiled and petulant. I kept getting the impression of her stamping her foot, sulking and pouting like a child. When asked where they were, I immediately thought of Arizona, but also New Mexico, so…I just looked it up, and oddly enough, Arizona was called New Mexico Territory until 1863. That was a really cursory bit of research, so don’t quote me on that. Oh, I should mention that when asked the year, I thought 1860. So that kind of fits, sort of.

Ann asked me about my husband at that time, and I said that he was pleasant and really a happy guy, and that he didn’t respond much to my fits, which made me furious (this girl sounds like a peach, doesn’t she?). She asked me to look at him and see if he was anyone from my current life time, and I was shocked to feel sure that he was my little daughter, Camryn, now.  I wasn’t destined to stay long in that place, however. My husband died relatively soon after and I went home to the East Coast, back to my family.

I could see my family home very clearly, but it was like I was looking through the window in at the people inside. The only person I could see clearly was my father, who was a jolly, portly man who indulged me way too much. I was the apple of his eye. I sensed my mother there as well, but could not see her clearly. The house was of a well-to-do family, with a big window looking into the sitting room. There was a fire in the grate and art on the walls. I had pretty much everything I could have wanted, but I was not a happy or grateful person. When I returned home, I got the sense that I did not mourn my husband at all, but talked a lot about what I had been through.

Finally, we moved forward to a time when I met another man, a very tall man named James. We went on to marry, although I was considered a little old by then- I feel like I was maybe 27, definitely no more than 30. We had two children together, a girl and then a boy.  I felt that, with the birth of my children, I was a whole person for the first time in my life. I had a purpose outside of myself. I had a very clear picture of sitting on a chair in my bedroom with my small daughter, perhaps four or five, standing right in front of me, and the baby boy on my knee. I felt truly happy for the first time ever.

Of course, we needed to see why this life was the one I’d chosen to view, so she asked me to move forward to the next important event in this life. Sadly, it was a terrible one. My son had died, I believe from a fall where he struck his head very hard. I had been caring for him at the time, and I blamed myself. My husband also blamed me, or at least I thought he did. My daughter, who was six by this time, suddenly became my sole focus in that life…keeping her safe, while simultaneously keeping her at arms length, because I was terrified of losing her as well.

Now, I should mention again that I really wondered if I was making this all up right up to the time when my son died…that’s when I started bawling. To be honest with you, I cried the rest of the time, because I could see so clearly how broken-hearted that woman was, and how misguided her efforts were afterwards…the way her daughter felt so obligated to tread carefully with her mother’s fragility, how bound she felt to her, and how much she resented her at the same time.

I cried because I could see what a wonderful life it might have been, but I chose to close my heart and build up walls around it, to keep myself safe. I tried to control every move my daughter made to keep her safe. In the end, she married and left home, and for her it was probably a relief, but I went on to knock around in my beautiful home, with no real relationships to speak of. I was lonely and empty, and it was in some way by design.

There was a lot more stuff after that, but the overall message I received was that choosing not to love because you are afraid of being hurt does not make your life easier, it makes it hard and sad and lonely. Hiding behind walls keeps you separate. You cannot prevent or prepare for everything by trying to control it. Life unfolds the way it unfolds. You just have to relax, and step out from behind those walls, knowing that you do not need to do a single thing to deserve to be loved, and that it is safe to give love. It’s really the only thing that makes life worth living, honestly.

So, here’s the deal- was it real? I mean…the feelings I felt were absolutely real. I’m not much of a crier, and I honestly couldn’t stop the tears. And it was so strange…when we got to the part about the little boy dying, I thought “oh, that must be it!” but my mind immediately knew it had much more to do with how I treated the girl after he died. His death was awful, but the impact of it on my life and on hers was what was important for me to see.

So…I have no reason to believe it was just made up. I wasn’t famous or fancy or even pleasant, to be honest. I was a sad woman with a life I would never want for myself. And it was not at all what I thought I’d see- soooo completely different than anything I expected. I learned some important things in those two hours, more than I have even shared here. I think it was real. What do you think?

Posted in entertainment, friendship, fun, Life, Musings, People, pop culture, random

GOT Party

got

Okay, so bear with me…this is not exactly the follow up to yesterday’s post, and don’t worry, I am not going to post any spoilers, but I thought this was worth mentioning.

For the past four episodes of Game of Thrones, I have been hosting watch parties at my house. The first one was just me and another friend…that was episode 2, season 8, and I have never been so glad to not watch GOT alone before. I could not have handled that shit by myself.

The following weekend, we were joined by another friend of mine who also didn’t want to watch alone. And yesterday, we were joined by yet another friend of mine, bringing it to a grand total of 4, which for some people might not constitute a party, but for me it’s a houseful.

Aside from the fact that I probably have PTSD from last nights episode, there are some real bonuses to having friends over that I never thought of before. First of all, you have someone to commiserate with when something is horrifying, bullshit, or just too funny not to make a joke about…in other words, every three seconds. Second of all, you have someone to grab when you get really wound up. (Thanks Alicia. Sorry about the bruises you’ll probably have on your arm today).

Third, though, is that, when you know you have people coming over, you WILL find the energy to get your ass up and do the dishes, sweep the floor. You might not think you can do it, but the closer it gets to time for people to arrive, the more motivation you find yourself having. So I am all but guaranteed a Monday morning in a clean house if I have friends over Sunday night. That part is pretty great.

Especially since I need that time to search Twitter, Facebook, and various other internet sources for their opinion about last nights show. I was a super late-comer to the GOT craze, and this is the first time in my life I’ve ever watched a popular show with the rest of the world. I am enjoying the hell out of it.

Many fans are not digging the way this season is unfolding, but I am willing to let it be what it is…an amazing, unpredictable story. It’s kept us off balance from the get-go, and it continues to do so. I. Love. It. While also dreading and hating it. Which is why it’s so amazing!

In just one week, it will be over, and I will have to find a new motivation for waking up in a clean house on Monday mornings. But for now, it’s been nice to add this new layer of socialization to my life. I’m grateful for the company.

Now, if only I could talk my friends into staying over…it’s hard to be alone after the show ends. LOL!

Posted in adventure, aging, fun, funny, health, humor, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I Am Going To Get Old

I mean, not to jinx myself or anything, but…it kind of looks that way. I’m not one of those people who never thought they’d make it to 30, as I’ve heard So. Many. People. Announce. Nope, although perhaps, considering my lifestyle over the years, that should have been more of a concern of mine. I took for granted that I would make it to 30, and 40, and onward, I guess…but I think I thought I would just feel young forever.

Not so much. As my 44th birthday approaches in just a few days, I gotta tell you…shit is catching up to me. I wake up in the morning, and it seems that just the simple act of sleeping now causes my body such distress. I lurch upward like Frankenstein after he’s been electrified into life, making the same moaning and groaning sounds. I set my feet on the floor with great care, never sure exactly how bad which things will hurt. This morning, for instance, my lower back feels as if I spent the whole day yesterday lifting heavy things the wrong way, except I didn’t. All I did was go to bed last night, sleep, and wake up.

For that matter, just sitting in the same position for too long can now cause pain. What the hell is that about? Yesterday, I was lounging on the couch with my knee bent for like five minutes too long, apparently, and when I went to shift around, it hurt! I had to do it slowly to keep the agony at bay. What is that? Is it natures way of telling me I need to move more? Because I really don’t want to, but if I must, I suppose I can make it happen. Grudgingly.

I recently spent upwards of a hundred bucks on a cream that would purportedly “firm” the “crepey” skin of my neck. In other words, I’m trying to diminish the signs of old lady neck. I think it might be working, a little, but let me tell you something- this shit smells like something you would use to lubricate a diesel engine. I am not joking when I tell you that the older you get, the more…intense the scents of your skincare regimen become. When I was in my 20’s, everything smelled like “Fresh Orange Bursts!” or “Grapefruit Sorbet!” or some such shit. We then moved on to “Clean scents” that smelled mildly floral or…I don’t know, the way you remember your mom smelling, I guess. That was fine. At my age? They don’t even bother trying to mask the chemical aroma of the heavy-duty crap that’s trying to salvage the very flesh of your face. I literally have a tube of Retinol cream that’s called- and I am not making this up- “Help Me!”. Its job is to burn the top layer of my face off every night because my skin is so old it has now forgotten how to regenerate itself. And that’s just one of FOUR things I slather on my face and neck every night.

Gravity is working overtime on every part of my body, which is fine on the parts of me that I am not showing the world- I mean, that’s what bras are for, right? But the only face bra I know of is plastic surgery, and that’s not happening. Also, my arms…oh, man, my arms. I love, love, love sleeveless blouses, but lately I’m not pulling them off like I used to.  And I know, I KNOW- if I could just find it within me to get back on my gym routine, this is a problem that would be easily remedied, but…this is my griping post, so get out of my face with your helpful suggestions. I am not in the mood.

Everywhere I go, I see old people. I mean, I work at a hospital, and I live in a town where the older population is astronomically higher than average, but Jesus. I see these elderly people, trudging down the street, clutching canes and moving so slow, and it just…it freaks me out! I mean, best case scenario, I get old. That’s the WIN. My options are- 1.) Die right now, which would be tragic, because I’m still technically young by death’s standards, or 2.) Get really old and slow and sad and grouchy because everything is hard, including breathing. Ugh, I don’t even know why I am thinking about it!

Every day of my life, I read peoples medical records- it’s okay, that’s what I do for a living. But I’ve come to realize that I am incredibly healthy. I don’t take any medications for anything, my blood pressure is perfect, my cholesterol is normal. My weight is a bit of a problem, but not by medical standards, just by mine, personally. This would be great if I had lived a mild type of life and took generally good care of myself over the years. It’s a fucking miracle if you consider that I spent a great portion of my life doing things that might have looked, to a moderately intelligent bystander, as if I were actively trying to kill myself. Not even slowly kill myself, but like, soon. Like, tomorrow maybe.

So, I’ve got it pretty good. I think, with a few small tweaks, I could probably sail through the rest of my 40’s with aplomb, and make it look good. But, you know, it’s going to require a bit more effort on my part than it did in my 30’s, that’s all. And a few more tubs of diesel lubricant neck cream. And maybe a new mattress, because the one I have now is going to put me in a wheel chair, I’m not kidding. Perhaps a few more glasses of water, and maybe a little more time exercising.

I’ll get started right after I take a tiny little nap. Or maybe tomorrow. Hahaha.

 

 

Posted in Addiction, happiness, inner peace, Life, Musings, People, random

Hi, Guys!

I know it’s been a really long time since I’ve posted anything, and I want to assure you that everything is just fine over here. I’m not dead. I haven’t been abducted by aliens. All is well, to be honest.

The main thing I am struggling with these days is, of course, time…but also…you know, this whole blog has generally been based on me being in recovery and the thing is, I’m not IN recovery anymore, so…I’m not 100% sure how to broach that subject. And no, I’m not mid-relapse, I’m not out partying it up. Not even close. I’m still the same old boring, in bed by nine (if I’m up late!) girl. I’m just not doing the 12 step thing anymore, and I am okay with it.

My worry, I guess, is that other people might not be. My fear is that, by sharing my thoughts and truths with others, I might be giving the impression that the decisions I’ve made would work just as well for anyone. I don’t want to give that impression. So I’ve been quiet while I try to work it out.

Suffice to say, the first little bit of time “on my own” was very isolating. Without being a part of a program, I had a little identity crisis. I didn’t know where I fit into the world anymore, and it was weird. But in my heart, I knew I needed to stick it out and get to the bottom of why I was feeling the way I was feeling about my life in recovery.

Fast forward to now, and all those weird feelings have passed. I will go more into it later, but for now I can tell you that I am not regretting my choice to leave. Not at all. I have zero desire to use drugs, and I can’t imagine a situation where that would seem attractive to me. I know in my heart that I am not going back. In meetings there is a weird stigma around saying “never again”. They say “Just for today”. Yet another thing that wasn’t resonating with me anymore.

Oddly enough, my anxiety has faded away as well. I can’t say at all that these things are in any way related, but I’m happy to report that, in any case. Perhaps I just grew tired of talking about, or hearing about, a struggle that, for me, was trying to fade into the past? There’s a lot. I have a lot of thoughts about it.

But right now, it’s 6:30, I’m still in my bathrobe, and the day is waiting for me to jump in and get the ball rolling. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Have a beautiful, magical…or at least bearable, Tuesday.