I have begun to realize that I am no longer 23 and bulletproof. I'm not just realizing this on a superficial level; I'm internalizing it.
The last few nights, I've had trouble getting to sleep. I'm almost paralyzed by thoughts of "what if?": what if something happens to Mr. Sunshine, what if I lose my job, what if what if what if...
Ultimately, I'm worrying about things over which I have no control. I suppose this sleeplessness is a side effect of addiction. Maybe it's just part of being human.
Eventually, my night-night meds do what they are supposed to do, and I fall into some sort of sedated dream-state.
When I wake up each morning, the blackest of fears run from the light of day, leaving me to face the physical reminders of the passage of time. The aches in the arches of my feet, the stiffness in my left knee, the pain in my neck and back--all of these remind me that
A) I'm not getting any younger
B) I really should have been kinder to myself throughout the first 42 years of my life.
What's done is done, though. There is no time travel. There are no do-overs. There is only today to try and make a better tomorrow. Some days, that's hard. Nobody wants to hire a convicted felon, even though she has a degree and almost a decade trouble-free since her last offense.
My looks are fading. I see the lines around my eyes and mouth. I see the difference in the size of my pants.
Thank heaven I still have my mind, even though nobody wants to give it a chance because of my history.
This morning, my mind just cannot handle facing all of the "what if" and "might have been".
Thus morning, my mind thinks perhaps my little doggie is on to something. We woke up this morning, and that's a good way to start the day.
So I'm going to look to Mollie for inspiration today, and try and enjoy this moment, because it really might be all there is.