My sponsor just laughs that everything is as it should be in my world.
She's right. If I'm not bitching about something, one of two things is going on with me:
1) Something is really really wrong
B) recovery is working in my life and I am ok with whatever is going on in life, whether I like it or not.
This morning, the dog won't calm down (remember, it's always about the fucking dog). It's 80 degrees inside the magic bus. I feel bloated.
Math class just became math class yesterday, the kind of math class that haunts my dreams, with numbers and letters and symbols chasing me around trying to eat me for lunch.
Which means that all is as it should be in my world. There's plenty to bitch about.
And yet, somehow, recovery is still there. I understand that this moment, no matter how hot/humid/haunted by math/filled with puppy barks, is a moment that I will never have to live through again. Which makes it precious. I can't get it back, so why waste it?
Besides, a wise man once told me that worrying ain't doing nothing but paying interest, and I figure that applies to bitching, also.
So as I sit here and type on my stupid-ass crackberry (oh, November upgrade time, why do you have to be so far away?), I can get lost in the oddly satisfying sound of the keys clicking away. I can hear the birds and be grateful, because there was a time when I couldn't hear them on the left side thanks to a domestic violence related injury.
I can understand that this moment is precious in it's imperfection.
I was talking to my friend Mr. B the other day, about that sensation of being fully "in the moment", and he asked me if I could tell him how I got there. Of course, I couldn't. I could tell him what I THINK helped push me there, I can tell him what I BELIEVE contributed to helping me find this state of being.
But I CANNOT, no matter how hard I try, give step-by-step directions on how to get here. I can't draw a picture, or a map. I can't explain the how or why, I can't even accurately describe what it's like here.
And in the end, how I got here, why it happened; it doesn't matter. Just like it doesn't matter why I'm an addict. It is what it is, this is who/what/where I am. Now, what do I want to do about it?
I want to live it. I want to go pick up my barking ass dog, put her harness on her, and take her to "puppy school". Not to get rid of her for a while; I have to go to school myself and somebody needs to take care of my puppy while I'm there.
I want to go to school. Because even though math is frightening the hell out of me, it is nowhere near as frightening as the hell of active addiction.
I want to sweat, I want to drive my car, I want to do laundry, I want to do homework...
I could go on. I won't.
The bottom line is this: I want to live, and I can't do it sitting at home, bitching because "all is as it should be in my world".
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