I’m just off, out of whack, off kilter. My head is going in too many directions and I’m feeling trapped by all of it. I can’t locate my center. I can’t get grounded.
There are just too many things out of my control that I am unhappy with right now, and although I write these fabulously positive posts on acceptance: (roll over and float) (how to eat an elephant) and vulnerability and the like, sometimes I have a hard time heeding my own advice.
I work hard at mindfulness, and at staying in the moment, and being grateful for all that I have, but sometimes I get tangled in my past and lost in my future, and that is when things like insidiously restless happen.
It is difficult for me to write right now, and I haven’t been posting much lately.
I have a friend who is an isolater in times of crisis. Won’t answer calls, or texts, or email, completely shuts out the world. It scares and annoys the shit out of me. Sound familiar? That’s my behavior, and they’re stealing it. It sucks being on the other side of it, I’ll tell you that. Maybe it’s my grand lesson presenting itself, waiting to be learned. A normal person might just get so frustrated by the situation that they say fuck it and stop trying. They might take it personally, but I know better, and I can’t do that because not only do I care about this person, but I understand the behavior. It is like you have been hijacked by yourself, like someone slammed a black bag over you that’s filled with emotion and you can’t get out of it. I am worrying about them a lot.
On top of it, this whole bombing fiasco spun me right the fuck out, and I have yet to catch my balance. There is so much pain, and anger and hatred flying around. The loss of life, the maiming, the senseless act in itself. How in the world was a 19-year-old boy capable of such an act? What happened to him? How is the poor father of the dead 8-year-old boy, a maimed daughter and a brain-damaged wife going to pick up the pieces that a deranged teenager blew apart with a crock pot filled with BB’s and nails and ball bearings? It literally has me soul-sick.
This is just a small sampling of my mental stew, but all of it needs to settle. I started smoking again after a month, which I feel shitty about but I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy battle, and I just caved. I’m human, and I’m flawed and fucked up like the rest of us. I just can’t fight that battle right now.
I know this is disjointed and sort of one big rant, but it’s the best I can do right now. Forcing myself to write is part of my attempt at dragging myself out of the hole. I went to the gym yesterday for boxing class, I strapped on my gloves and let loose on those bags for an hour like an amphetamine riddled prizefighter. Then I came home and laid out 25 bags of mulch and pulled weeds and cut my grass. All of these are measures to get myself right again. Although today I can barely lift my arms, I feel good from the sense of accomplishment, that I didn’t just curl up in bed all day with a pizza feeling sorry for myself catching up on Mad Men in a puddle of my own tears, right? That’s something.
Categories: Addiction, Recovery & Deep Thoughts