I loved this post and one of my favorite quotes by Heraclitus is, “All is flux, nothing stands still.”

Someone told me once that when you’re in pain it means that growth is happening and something wondrous is being worked out in you.  I hold onto that every time I start to feel those so-called growing pains and feel like I can’t make it through.

Have been nursing a muddled flurry of random feelings, emotions in addition to adjusting to what to do with myself on days where no crisis is occuring and nothing pressing requires my immediate attention.  On days of slumber, my mind wanders and I discover that I still have hidden pockets of space in my brain that house a variety of deranged thoughts.  The thoughts are still there, I’m finding, and my growth in recovery helps me to not act on them.  I’m still learning how to react in ways that will not damage my relationships with others and will not result in my having to suffer some dire consequence for an irrational and impulsive reaction.

The season is changing and so is my mood (again).  I bitched and yelped all summer long over the heat being set on the hottest seat in hell.  It’s cooling off now and I’m starting to feel melancholy, homesick, and irate.  Football season is here and in this region, this is a big deal.  This is a great highlighted event for these fuckers in these parts.  I don’t know why it drives me up the wall.  I suppose if there were other cultural options for the rest of us I’d quite possibly be more tolerant.  Unfortunately, I am stuck in a hellpot where their idea of culture is checking out the new Japanese restaurant and ordering California rolls.  California rolls!

I’m thoroughly enjoying time spent with my children, my boyfriend, and my friend Pancho.  Got to see Dollface last week too and it was delightful.  Dollface is one of those people that you can hang out with, not talk about anything too heavy, but still enjoy hanging out with.  We went to this place called Monkey Ice and it reminded me so much of Matsumoto’s back home.  I am super picky about my shaved ice (commonly referred to as snow cones).  I still can’t understand why we don’t have a 7-11 in this black, bottomless pit for a city but whatever…I miss having a genuine Slurpee.

I watched a documentary yesterday about kids who take Oxy and how it often leads to heroin addiction.  I was disturbed at how I was annoyed that I’d never got to try heroin before getting clean.  I’m thinking that drug documentaries should be on my shit list next to Tom Cruise movies.

Tomorrow is Monday.  It’s my favorite day of the week and most people think that I’m kidding when I say that.  Whatever got missed, fucked up, or forgotten last week gets a second chance.  I’m all about second chances.

I heard a song this morning that only two months ago I was in tears upon hearing it.  It’s amazing how completely consumed I was with bitterness, rage, pain, and guilt over the demise of my marriage.  It was the first thing that I thought about upon rising, and the last thing that I entered my mind before sleep would take over.  My spare thoughts centered around how to bring about his untimely vanquishing from fucking Earth without dire consequences.  It doesn’t help that the he lives on my street and I often spot him checking his mail while I’m on my front porch.  Ex Sightings two months ago sent me through the roof.  Ex Sightings today barely register a pulse.  This is progress for me!

I try to stay focused on what’s in front of me and not what’s behind that I cannot change, and what may or may not be in front of me that has not happened.  Daily living brings enough to keep me busy as it is.  There’s always more than enough to tackle at work, having three kids a relationship are full-time jobs, and finding time for friends and anything extra means that I have a pretty full life.  I can always find a lot of things to be grateful for even on a  fuck-me-in-my-ear-already kind of day.

Exciting things are happening.  My career is moving forward because I work hard and finally believe in myself and my ability to succeed at whatever I do.  The kids are doing well and life is ever-changing and growth is bountiful if I nurture the seeds that are planted along the way.

Once upon a time I feared calm and misunderstood it to mean that I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile with my life.  It used to signal to me that it was time to kick up dust. Now I understand that the kind of peace that comes from within is what will carry me through anything.   I know now that it’s not just about overcoming obstacles while maintaining my dignity and spiritual principles,  but how I live my life and carry myself when no one is supposed to be watching.

And trust me, someone is always watching.

Work was frustrating today. It felt as if I’d busted my ass all week long only to have one person drop the ball and fuck it all up. God-willing, I did well on my assessment, everything else will fall into place, and I’ll be in my own store with my own personally-chosen staff in the next three months.

Am struggling in recovery. I remain disgruntled with the flawed human beings that frequent the rooms who have way more clean time than me. Shame on me for placing high expectations on people who are just as internally jumbled as I am.

Truthfully, I am simply exhausted. I have health issues that need addressing. I seem to only have enough energy, patience, and attention span for my family, dearest friends, and work.

I have another ultrasound and biopsy on Tuesday. I’m not really nervous as the thought of cancer taking a breast doesn’t frighten me as much as the thought of the shit spreading to vital organs. Who needs two tits? Ha.

Life keeps asking me the same questions. Obviously, I am not hearing the lessons.

Yesterday I had to go to urgent care because my back finally gave out.  I was terrified.  I fought with the issue of having to tell the attending physician that I’m a recovering addict and cannot be trusted with narcotic painkillers, opiates, or anything of the like.  I ended up telling him because I was plagued by this raw, agonizing feeling that a relapse was on the horizon.  I knew that once I had those pills in my hands there would be no turning back and they might even lead me to something new, something that works faster.  He ended up giving me something mild that helps to ease the pain but doesn’t make me feel high.  I have no desire to abuse it, but I stay aware of the fact that I could if I really wanted to.

A lot has changed in my life in the past several months.  A close relationship ended very painfully and I have a hole in my heart where I once held this person.  I’ve come to understand that if I fill that hole with spiritual things instead of people, places, and things that I have a much more serene and peaceful life.  It’s easier said than done when you are used to being so damn co-dependent.

I have a job now that I enjoy on most days but feel that I am still shooting below my potential because it’s what I’m comfortable with.  I’m still working on building my self-worth and believing that I deserve good things and I deserve success if I work hard enough for it.

Today has already started off on a positive note, I finally got to blog, and my coffee rocks.  For these simple luxuries, I am grateful.

Have begun my moral inventory of the fourth step.  I’m working it slowly as it’s dredging up long-buried issues that I’ve not thought of in quite some time.  I’m trying to be thankful for the time that I have to focus on my recovery and my time with my daughter.  It’s hard for me to be still sometimes and embrace the more peaceful moments of my life. However, I’ve noticed that with recovery and growth the chaos is no longer a comfortable place even if at times I am drawn to it.  It’s hard to stay in the middle of  it for long.

Am trying to balance everything in my life, including being accountable to my friends and the people who are supportive and a healthy part of my network.  Am getting better at establishing healthier boundaries for myself and not engaging with people who I can easily allow to upset my serenity.  It’s easier said than done sometimes, but it’s all about progress and not perfection.

I miss my kids every day.  I am hopeful that one of them might be coming home in August.  Am trying not to influence her decision and have accepted my son’s decision to stay right where he is.  I just want them both to be happy even if it is not here with me.  I am bound here by my youngest child because it is important to me that she has physical access to both of her parents and her paternal family as well.  Maybe I’ll leave someday too or maybe I won’t.

Today I am staying in the moment just our meditation says.  I’m leaving tomorrow’s POSSIBLE worries for tomorrow if they come, and yesterday has already passed and not subject to change.  The only thing that I can do now is the next right thing.

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I hate to think that if I’d continued on with my addictions, I might have ended up this way.  Scary thought.  Recovery is a gift that I don’t plan on squandering.

I made the most difficult decision of my life and allowed my two oldest children to move across the country to live with my mother.  One needed a change of environment, she felt, and the other just wanted to go home.  The boy left everything behind as if never to return. Males are funny like that, I think.  It seems so much easier for them to move on and walk away, leaving a trail of dust behind him.  It brings me comfort to know that I loved him enough to do that for him so that he could feel at peace again.  I still miss him immensely…I miss them both.  There is a gaping void in my house that cannot be filled.

Am back on the job market again and trying my best not feel discouraged and as if I’ve failed to maintain gainful employment yet again.  The whole process of job-hunting brings about great anxiety.  I’ve half-assed reapplied for SSI but the application is so long that arduous that my mind starts to wander.  I have the attention span of an ADHD child with too many shiny things and no Ritalin.

Hope is on the horizon and I’ve found a roommate that I actually know very well who is also in recovery.  And my little one, who is still with me, will have a playmate and not feel so alone without her siblings to harass.  She slept curled up with me last night, unable to sleep in the room she once shared with her big sister.  We snuggled close and I held onto her for dear life.  She dug her little toes into my thighs and tucked her mass of curls underneath my chin.  For a while, I felt at ease.

So I guess I’d better make good use of my Starbucks Wi-fi time and do some actual job-hunting.  My stomach turns at the thought of it all.