Addiction and Recovery

There's a moment just before I fall asleep wherein I have the ability to fight off the soporific effects of my medication. My mind pops and fizzes during the last moments of creativity that exist only between sleep and waking life. These are the moments that exist for writers. The inner critic has already fallen asleep. The subconscious is just waking up. This is the time I am most likely to cry.

Who would think that life could be so mind numbingly difficult? Who could imagine every step is capable of tilting the balance? The days when nothing happens seem like wastes and blessings. I always feel like I should be doing more than I am currently doing, even when what I am currently doing is bearing down on me. It makes breathing, time to breathe, almost uncanny. Glorious.

I have a friend who claims that everyone is an alcoholic in one way or another. Everyone has an addiction. Everyone walks anonymously along the path of his or her own personal addiction. Everyone needs a sponsor. Everyone needs a support group.

I've lately been trying to figure out what my personal addiction is. I think, perhaps, it is the idea that things should be easy. Never mind the fact that I tout the inevitable difficulty of anything worth doing. Anything worth doing is hard. I believe this. Then I enter into a project, imagining it to be too difficult to think about. This leads to a weak completion of a lot of my endeavors. Looking back on things, I find that a concerted effort and a clear driven vision would have pushed me further along my path. Would have awarded me more fully with the satisfaction that can only come from the knowledge that I did everything I could possibly do.

But, then again, I've been told that I'm often too hard on myself, and I'd have to agree. I fluctuate between healthy drive and detrimental self-criticism. Despite the stars under which I was born, I struggle to find the correct balance.

The truth is, I am frightened. I am frightened of failure and even more terrified of success. So, perhaps my addiction is fear. And fear is a cold place to live. It aches, and it paralyzes. My heart tells me to listen carefully, to take heed, while my brain tells me to breathe and to listen to the breath. Behind the breath is a powerful mechanism. The air goes in, and the air comes back out again, and it requires little to no effort on my part. Under the sound of the breath, I can hear the truth.

You're not out of it yet. Each day holds the capability to hurt and to heal. Fear will tell you to sit still. Fear will remind you of all the ways you will cause yourself to fall, to fail. Let your breath bring you back. There is no pain without pleasure. There is no pleasure without pain. And there is no way to recover from the pain without faith. Faith that fear is lying. Faith that the truth that gives you effortless breath will carry you forward. You will cause yourself to fall, to fail. But you will forgive yourself, over and over again, with every breath, and you will keep walking.

Blah

I'm currently struggling with the fact that I've been sickish for almost a week now and with this sickishness has come one fail after another. I have a huge list of intentions that just don't seem to be hitting the top of my priorities. What are my current priorities? Sleep a full night and...remember to take my medication.

The real question is: what are my intentions? Clean my house. Christmas shop. Call about my insurance (honestly should be a priority). Go on a walk every day. Do yoga every day. Write for an hour every day. Lesson plan for an hour or two every day. Buy groceries. Cook. Buy a dry erase board to list priorities vs. intentions.

What do I do instead? Lie awake in bed until around 11. Pout because I have to actually make coffee if I want to drink it. Eat the easiest thing available for breakfast. Watch television. Find creative ways to be warm. Stress out because no one wants to hang out/too many people want to hang out.

My existence is a plateau.

My final question is: Is this so because I am ill/school is out, or is there something bigger going on? Perhaps it's my aversion to the holiday season in general. Christmas is ten days away. Shouldn't I be more excited?

In my head this blog sounded a lot funnier than it reads. Anyone want to pat me on the back?