Today I woke up feeling everything. I took the day off of work claiming sickness so I can spend the day with my sister in law who is visiting from the west coast. When I say I woke up feeling everything, it means a great weight. Although I am not really sick, I feel like I am hungover. I feel the stress of life in my bones. It is a gnawing dull ache in my forehead, it is mild nausea and a pit in my gut, it is sand filled sinuses, it is a sore jaw, it is limbs so heavy I struggle to get out of bed, it is burning tired eyes coupled with sleeplessness, it is a bitter taste on my tongue, it is a charlie horse knotted in my right calf, it is feelings of blah, blah, and more blah.
In this blog I have been attempting to write about my personal journey in recovery and growth. I was feeling inspired, but today I feel stunted. Today I face a wall, it feels insurmountable, there is barbed wire at the top, my husband’s name is painted on the wall, his image projected there, his words written like empty promises. Other wall images emerge: the Hillary versus Trump debate there, heckling me, scaring the shit out of me, police killings of black men and women, bodies laid out on the street without regard, the prison industrial complex, genocide in Syria, the War on Drugs. If I scale this wall am I leaving prison or entering? I have no f-ing clue. I am teetering between empathy and anger, self-love and compassion for him, reality and denial, despair and hope; blah blah blah. My therapist told me anger is good because it can be a trigger of change. In another post I said that there is nowhere to go but forward. Today I sit on the carousel, turning around and around. This carousel with its gaudy gems and ornate, creepy, lifeless horses is not my change vessel. Its spinning makes me dizzy and my vestibular system can’t seem to recover from the shock. Oh wait, I can’t recover if I am still on it. I need to get off, there’s that damn wall again.
Lately I have been exploring an approach other than detachment from my addicted husband. I am too tired to write about it, although that was my intention. But the parasite of addiction is unrelenting, taking, robbing, burrowing, narcissistic. I am tired. I don’t know if I can evolve and learn to love myself with the parasite in my calf (that must be what that pain is) sitting on the carousel, spinning around and around. My phone is ringing, my sister in law wondering where we will meet. Time to put the mask on…
Reminding myself that there is so much to fight for and striving to feel hopeful still even amidst the blah with some tunes:
Change Gonna Come-Sam Cooke (with an annoying commercial before)
Stand by Me-Ben E. King