every day a new happening

Six months ago, every day sent me further up shit creek.

If it wasn’t a head injury, it was a break-up, or a near-fatal car accident, or giardia, or middle school drama amongst a bunch of adults, my child’s felony charges, or, or, or….

I greeted each day, guarded, teeth gritted, unsure of what the day would bring, but sure that it would bring something.

And none of it was good.

It was brutal.

And here I am, still standing, and recently doing more than standing.

I’m finally good. Like good good. Like, “oh my god it’s about fucking time” good.

And what is really incredible about it is that now, each day brings me something that frees me up just a little bit more from the grief that consumed me for what seems like eternity.

And here is the awareness that came to me today.

Something that has consistently sent me spinning through these months has been having to list all that happened. You know, telling a new therapist, or I finally see my parents and can sit down and share the gory details, or some poor unsuspecting (and often unfamiliar) person walks into my kitchen and asks the one thing they shouldn’t: “How are you?”

When I do that I re-experience the weight of it. I am crushed all over again. Each time, hopefully a little bit less, but just two weeks ago I had to tell my doctor what had been going on and I held it together perfectly well.

Until I got home.

And for the next three days.

Then today something happened.

I was at work, slicing ham, and something made me think of the list and this great sadness welled up and my heart hurt for the gal who had to go through all of that – but I felt that as a separate person from her. Honestly, in a motherly sort of way.

And I thought, “I’m not her anymore.”

What does a snake feel when she sheds her skin?

Does it hurt? Is it liberating?

an anonymous concern

In my adult life I have not dated one single man who has a healthy relationship with alcohol. Either the guy has stopped drinking for a reason, or needs to stop drinking for that very same reason.

In other words, I have a penchant for men with issues around booze.

So one of those ex’s who was practicing abstinence is no longer doing so. and it saddens me deeply. And it also scares me.

And I wonder at his community; are they concerned? Do they, does he, understand there is a problem?

I no longer have contact with this man. It is not my place to be involved in any way and yet I know this version of him better than anyone else; this was my life for a good chunk of time.

I’ve spent a lot of time in 12-step meetings so I have a pretty good sense of how this will go.

Also, given my apparent craving for men who crave hootch, I’ve got enough first-hand experience under my belt to feel rather pessimistic.

In other words, I know enough to be distressed and I just hope that someone in his world also is.

There is a flip side to this too; I’m not living it again. Anyone who has lived with an imbiber – active or sober – knows that it comes with a whole set of challenges that you can’t understand unless you have lived it.

It’s fucking exhausting.

And disheartening.

And not my problem to fix.

let go and let god