this week was rough… and much like my moleskine journal, i found excuses to not write an entry here in the past six days.
last weekend i experienced a pretty intense epiphany; it was a very cognizant moment of hyper awareness — and to say it took me aback, would be an understatement. i had to rush to both my journal and my text messenger, to relay this “light bulb” to myself, my counselor, and my sisters.
i was exhausted from the holidays, the chores, the errands, the everything. and everywhere i went, along with everything i did, i had this nagging thought following me around and a sense of emptiness within me.
i had slowly but surely convinced myself that i was insignificant and did not matter. i do this from time to time, only in the past, i would find my comforting escape in alcohol. so to be so aware of it all, to feel all of these painful feelings and not have a way to dull them and make myself feel warm and fuzzy, i had to face them head on. it hurt. i cried. i wrote about it. i let it eat me a little more. then i went off on somebody as a means of unhealthy release. i did not talk about it calmly or maturely, i simply lashed out.
i felt as though i was nothing more than a maid, an assistant, a “little miss do it all” and unappreciated as all get out. i got upset at little things: i’ve been at my place of employment for over five and a half years — yet nobody can spell my name right –, my partner let the clean laundry piles grow and did nothing more than add on to them, i bend over backwards for my children only to have my oldest kid backtalk to me like i was scum of the earth, only one friend legitimately had reached out to wish me a happy birthday, my newest art project wasn’t turning out the way i imagined, etc.
you get the idea. #firstworldproblems
HOWEVER – the key was i allowed myself to feel. that’s been the best thing about my sobriety and recovery, period. no matter how good (or how bad) – i’ve allowed myself to feel, think, process, digest, and revel in it all.
it’s been hard to keep my mind from wandering backwards, into the past, and constantly reminding myself and reliving certain (shitty) moments. these reflections piss me off more than anything, because i get mad at myself for being so stupid and selfish for so many years. but in order to not head down the ways of being a dry drunk, i snap out of those thoughts and remind myself that i’m not that person anymore.
so in the vein of “i’m not that person anymore” i have pushed myself into healthy, but uncomfortable zones, in order to explore myself and open my mind. within the past six days, i’ve successfully started painting again (i’m experimenting with different techniques and mediums i’ve not used before), i’ve written in my journal (both moleskine and digital), i’ve played around with my appearance (mostly in the sense of androgyny), and i was able to handle the fact that (due to reasons i won’t divulge, albeit it wasn’t due to anything on my end) i wasn’t able to participate in a scheduled appointment with my counselor. that one was especially hard, since i had started off the week feeling unimportant to the world around me. pity party of one, amirite?
ALAS, i have made it through another week and proved to myself i’m much more than i gave myself credit for, and that’s been the most accomplishing feeling of all.