The Crazy In My Head
Today is about the crazy; the crazy in my head. I have had such big dreams over the years, such big dreams. I had a dream a while back that I won the triathlon. The crazy part of that is that I cannot even commit to twenty minutes three times a week to jog or walk fast; but in my dream I won the triathlon. Go me right!
I have always wanted to write poetry and a book. I used to write poetry and actually had some published back when I was a teenager/young adult. I have started countless books over the years. There was sarcasm, pain, comedy; so many books started. How many finished? None. Why? That is because I am great at starting; not so great at the finishing. Bodes well for this now doesn’t it.
Oh well it is my nickel as they say; not yours. My favorite book I started was about a pissed off ant. She was a quirky little stick figure in my head that was pissed off at the world. Oh she was going to say so much and be so much and make me rich and famous. I wonder how many people would read that story. I wonder how long it would take me to write that story.
One thing I have noticed since I got clean is that the writing ability to go to that dark pain filled side is not as easy as it once was. It seemed to be so much easier to do when I was in that dark place.
So let’s get back to my crazy head. I have noticed some good and bad sides to recovery. I have made a list.
On the good side: No drunken tank adventures or court appearances for drunken tank adventures. No more blackouts and missing years. No more waking up to hear horrifying stories about last night or waking up in guys beds wondering who he is and how I got there. No more physical or emotional pain at the hands of my ‘gentleman callers’; yes that is what we will call them. No more being insanely focused on ways and means to find more. And drum roll please. No more wanting to die each and every day. But my most favorite fun thing though was when I got boobs. All of my life I wanted to get a boob job so I could have more than just these saggy little dots on my chest. But drugs took the priority. Then I got into recovery; and low and behold; eating better and not doing drugs; I got boobs. I was so proud at fifty to have this happen. My partner in life by then said that I didn’t have to dress like this anymore wearing low cut tops. I said YES I DO! I waited all my life to get boobs and I am showing them off for a while. And I did.
On the bad side: I now get to face the fact that I have the attention span of a gnat. And apparently, pain is not so easy to write about when you are not in it.
So, having weighed in the pros and cons; I am a winner staying in recovery with boobs.
So much more will come; and today I choose to laugh. You can too.