My thoughts are racing. It feels like my heart breaks and then heals several times a minute. I’m fearful and panicked.
This morning someone said, “If you hold a man down, you have to stay down with him,” (a quote from Booker T. Washington) and a bell rang in my heart knowing this is true. When did I become the kind of person that tries to hold people down? What’s happened to me? When did I get so bitter?
I’m working hard on putting my feet back on the ground of the real world, instead of on the murky quicksand world of the web. In the last twenty four hours I’ve sought wisdom and comfort from those that know me, the bands around my heart loosening as I listened to my friend’s laughter when I told him how I felt, reminding me as always that my perspective is chronically skewed.
I am just me, here, small and flawed and broken. I fuck up all the time and sometimes I get confused about who I am and sometimes I do stupid shit and sometimes I’m petty and angry and, again, so fucking bitter.
I don’t want to be bitter.
I want to find joy.
I have been in an obsessive loop of crazy, but yesterday I realized I needed to put the brakes on and pull myself out. It’s hard; the crazy has amazing centrifugal force and if you even drift near it you get sucked right back in.
Last night I heard a man talk about a friend that died, a young man who had everything to live for but took his own life anyway. I remembered my friend Web, his easy laugh and warm smile wiped from this earth by a bullet he shot into his own head. I’m angry, still, all these years later that he didn’t have the courage to work toward getting better, even though he knew how to do it. I remembered a girl I used to know who didn’t pull a trigger but killed herself with powder and booze just a couple of weeks ago and how she, too, knew how to live life sane but chose instead to live in a way that killed her. In 17 years of living sober I’ve known dozens that couldn’t do it, that couldn’t get clean, that died by their hand or the hand of the disease of addiction.
I remember, now, that I’m here and I have everything to live for. I can thank God once again that my daughter has never seen me drunk, and even if my sober life is one full of chaos and occasional strife she doesn’t know, she doesn’t see it, she feels SAFE. This morning she climbed into bed with me, curled around my body and said, “I love being with you, you’re so nice and cushy and warm!” My heart burst with joy and I realized I’m the luckiest fucking person in the world each day she is my daughter.
I have nothing to complain about.
I have love, I have joy, and no matter what, I have words. My life is fucking good. I remember now.