Saturday, February 11, 2017

So much for writing 30 minutes each day.

6:44 a.m.

I'm struggling a little bit it seems. 

With the daily schedule as well as my brain.

I'm finally coming up for air after several days in a row of "just let me sleep."

Listening to a podcast yesterday called The Bubble Hour, I realized that even though I truly have no desire to drink, I probably do need to see a therapist.  Long term recovery is hard.  Not hard bc I battle wanting to drink but hard because I battle battling life's ups and downs and all the feelings I numbed for so long.  

When your anesthetic is gone, life's daily issues are still just get to feel them full force.

Running saves me...but right now I haven't been able to run bc of a nagging back issue.  I'm also dealing with hot flashes like nobody's business.  And, Epstein Barr virus which every 10 years or so pops back up his sassy head.  Fantastic equation for depression.

Finding the right therapist is key.  I don't want to just be medicated.  I already take daily meds which apparently need to be revisited...I'm not looking for more and I don't want to be sedated.  How is that different from alcohol??

My funk was helped some by following through with a commitment I made to 5 other ladies to lead them through a bible study last week in an online group.  
The group gave me something to focus on and forced me to keep my brain busy at least for a bit each day...and to look forward to the next day.
I'm starting another one of these on Monday...this one is longer and called "Made to Crave"...

Today is a day of soccer. 
I love that.  I love being outside...and watching our youngest do something she loves makes me very happy.
Amazing how much my children's happiness can also make me happy :) 

I'm committing to loving my husband more purposefully too...we've been married for 28 years this year.

He has taught me over and over what true love and sacrifice really are.  I know that sometimes I don't give back all that I should.  
We have issues.  Who doesn't.
I love the song Broken Together...fits us pretty well.

My job wears me out.  I go each day with a semi positive outlook, but it doesn't take long for that to disappear.  
My upstairs colleagues keep me from completely going crazy at work.
How wonderful is it to work with friends :)

The idea of moving came up again this week.
I don't really want to move though.  I think that would be a huge decision too soon.
If we found a perfect house in the town where our youngest and oldest go to school, that would make sense and maybe not be quite so overwhelming...but I don't know.  
I cannot even imagine moving to a different part of the state or another state and starting completely over with a new job right now. 
I'm afraid that I would just have to ostrich it...dig a hole and put my head in there.


While I was listening to The Bubble Hour yesterday, I also realized how freeing it has been to actually talk about some of my "stuff."
It's not all about me.
What about the young woman who sees me everyday and thinks I have it all together.
What about the young woman who is struggling herself and thinks that something is wrong with her because she is so different from anybody else?
What about the young woman who says, "Why can't I be happy??  I have nothing to be depressed about."
If making through another day and talking about it helps one quiet young woman who never even acknowledges she needs help, then it will all have been worth it.  

I can't save anyone.
Not even myself.
I'm leaning on God for that.

I know He's there.
At 4:30 every morning, He nudges me and says, "I'm waiting."
As difficult as it is for me to stay awake at times...and despite how many naps I take, I can somehow get up at 4:30 a.m.
It's actually not a "somehow."  I know how.

When I walked into my kitchen this morning, I saw some cake that had been mauled in the night after I went to bed.
After my quiet time, I took a picture of said cake and posted it to Instagram.
As I quickly scrolled the first few posts of the day, I ran across a post by another woman...someone I don't know personally but have come to know through social media communities.  
She's struggling too.

I didn't know she struggled at all.
I thought she had it all together.
She has everything to be happy about.
But, she struggles.

It's not that seeing someone else struggling makes us happy.
Seeing someone else struggling makes us feel that we aren't the only ones.
I'm not the only one.
I'm not so different.
I'm not so messed up.
My issues are real.
And other women struggle with them too.

I posted a little response to her to let her know she is not alone, she has my love, support, and prayers.
This support from other women in the online recovery community is what sustains me as well.
Holding each other up when we can't stand on our own.
Imagine if we all tried to do just that a little more often.

Just imagine.

7:14 a.m.