Therapy Tuesday
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There was no Therapy Tuesday. How dare she go on vacation?! I didn't go last week because we went to the quarry. I won't go next week because I'll be on vacation. Can you believe it will be a month between sessions the next time I see her? And I have not imploded or gone insane? That's craziness! Oh wait. That's called sanity and stability. Ha! Two words people have not always used to describe me. I might just be getting better. So there.
Instead of Therapy, I went out to Tallgrass this morning for coffee. It's a good, quiet place to go. And now that they have the pond, it's fun to just sit and watch the little fishies lazily swim around. It's peaceful. Plus, the coffee out there rocks hard core. I could have slept in, but we all know how I thrive on routine, so if there is no Therapy per se, I just create my own. Riley (the staff dog) quietly padded alongside me and nuzzled up for pets when I sat on the swing. It's been a long journey - these last two and a half years. I got a little teary-eyed sitting there, watching the birds swoop down and the squirrels chasing each other. I never used to notice things like that, I was always so wrapped up in my own head that the beauty and wonder escaped me.
I like this life. Sure - it sometimes gets a little discombobulated, but that's mostly my brain, messing with things that don't need to be messed with. If I can just come back to center, where the peace lives, I'll be just fine. And at least I know there IS a center today. And that I deserve to belong there. When Riley and I walked back to the house, in my mind's eye I could picture me, huddled in the wind and snow on the porch, getting that quick puff off my cigarette, silently crying. Waiting to start my third day sober, lost and confused. Horrified and sad. Up at the crack of dawn because sleep never did come the night before. I don't ever want to be that girl again.
So I threw a stick and we ran in the sunshine; I went inside for big, warm hugs from my favorite man in the universe and off I went to start a new day. Shaky from the memory, but content in knowing that I never have to go to that scary, dark and insidious place again. I'm alive. I really am alive.
Instead of Therapy, I went out to Tallgrass this morning for coffee. It's a good, quiet place to go. And now that they have the pond, it's fun to just sit and watch the little fishies lazily swim around. It's peaceful. Plus, the coffee out there rocks hard core. I could have slept in, but we all know how I thrive on routine, so if there is no Therapy per se, I just create my own. Riley (the staff dog) quietly padded alongside me and nuzzled up for pets when I sat on the swing. It's been a long journey - these last two and a half years. I got a little teary-eyed sitting there, watching the birds swoop down and the squirrels chasing each other. I never used to notice things like that, I was always so wrapped up in my own head that the beauty and wonder escaped me.
I like this life. Sure - it sometimes gets a little discombobulated, but that's mostly my brain, messing with things that don't need to be messed with. If I can just come back to center, where the peace lives, I'll be just fine. And at least I know there IS a center today. And that I deserve to belong there. When Riley and I walked back to the house, in my mind's eye I could picture me, huddled in the wind and snow on the porch, getting that quick puff off my cigarette, silently crying. Waiting to start my third day sober, lost and confused. Horrified and sad. Up at the crack of dawn because sleep never did come the night before. I don't ever want to be that girl again.
So I threw a stick and we ran in the sunshine; I went inside for big, warm hugs from my favorite man in the universe and off I went to start a new day. Shaky from the memory, but content in knowing that I never have to go to that scary, dark and insidious place again. I'm alive. I really am alive.
5 comments:
Well done.
Lovely post, Kate, and I'm very happy for you.
Truly inspiring.
No words. Just a knowing smile and nod from someone who's been down that same road.
You're awesome. My only complaint: you live too far away from Portland.
This is such a moving post, Kate. I think everyone, addicted or not, can learn a thing or two about what it means to live life from this post. Thanks for sharing.
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