One order of healing, with a side of life.

8 months....

That's how long it's taken me to get back. I've been writing, a lot. Less in the last two months or so. Life, ya know?
But still, progress has been made. I have no idea where to begin. So much has happened in those 8 months. I moved, into my own place. The business now has its own place.
Life has shifted, a lot.
I celebrated 2 years of sobriety last month, and recently started trauma therapy.

The summary doesn't do the experience justice.

Tonight I am typing through hard tears. This therapy, called EMDR, is nothing like I ever imagined experiencing. I am enduring a lot of feelings, a lot of triggers, and having a really hard time maintaining connections with those I care for throughout it. I feel walled off in Plexiglas. I can't always decide if this is for my protection, or theirs. Either way, I can't seem to fully be with anyone in any given moment, other than my children. They are magic. They can cross any barrier. And I thank my higher power for that, because I need their cuddles.

Today was a day, filled to the brim with little and big fires, mainly business related. Nothing too overwhelming, although once upon a time all of this would have crushed me. Somehow I ride it out now. I feel myself sinking into this role as business owner, more and more. In the last few weeks I applied for a Women's Initiative Grant through Cartier, and a business loan.
I've set up business utilities, placed orders with money we barely had.
I've had meetings with consultants, attorneys, and employee prospects.
Oh, and I totaled my van.
Seriously, how am I still sober?
I won't lie, I've had my moments. I've had some thoughts. Ok, more than some.
Sober birthdays are hard on their own. Toss a big move, or two, into the mix.
Add a dash of business explosion.
Personal growth.
Occasional loneliness and plenty of grief.
Yet, as I sit here, wiping my face, I know the truth. There is no substance out there that will ever be as enticing as finally healing. I am so ready. I have searched and waited long enough. It's time to crack the encasement of pain, and spread these new wings wide.
And if I am being really honest, I work the fuck out of my own recovery. Or maybe it works me?

A month ago I didn't even know where I would be living, seriously. Tonight I am cuddled with my giant pup typing in a home that fits me to the core. My daughter calls it the Twirly House, and she loves to spin and dance here. My son spends hours outside playing pretend in the grass and woods. No, I don't know the how of any of this. I just know that someone told me to have hope, faith, trust. And then I blinked. But not before realizing that I have so much love in my life. So many amazing people that ground me in the here and now, even as I swim in the murky waters of my past, even as I sometimes go under and feel like the light will never find me again. Perhaps my cracks are being infused with gold. Perhaps my perceived imperfections are what make me exquisite. Perhaps one day I will see myself as others do.

For today, I am happy to simply be breathing. I am grateful for the clarity to see the path I am on.
I may not know where it leads yet, and the fucking middle may be messy and hard, but dammit...what if it leads somewhere awesome. I mean, my right now IS pretty awesome.
Besides, I've already been through hell. Multiple times.
I'm good with not going back today.

Me & Squash, the giant pup.


Popular posts from this blog

My first running post

Unless vs. Success

What’s in a Name?