I am working my ass off.
I’m making it all work, the spinning plates I have been keeping in the air, alone, for four years.
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I am profoundly struggling. This time through this I’m just letting myself cry and lie on the couch or clean out closets or eat chips. I know intellectually it won’t last forever, even though it feels like it will.
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My brain is not functioning properly. It tells me a lot of horrible things. I was teaching the youth at Rainbow Coffee House about self esteem and self efficacy this week, and it hit me how much I’m in a dark soup with that myself. Resilience, I told them. Resilience practice is the key.
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I wake up every morning.
I don’t drink alcohol.
I don’t make addictive choices.
Anything can be addictive. Ask your friends that knit or sew about their “stash.” (For some people it’s ok, for me it’s not.)
I have let all that behavior go.
What is left is a monofilament line of faith that keeps me tethered to myself. My belief in myself, against all odds, is the thing I’m holding on to. I’m here, tears streaming down my cheeks, proud.
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I am my own rock.
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