Quick one before work. Three weeks today since I stopped drinking and distracting myself, started blogging every day.
How do I feel? Honestly, not great. I still wake up depressed every morning, bleak and hopeless, not wanting to face the challenges of the day. I still hear negative, self-critical thoughts in my head all the time. It tends to settle as the day goes on, then evenings bring loneliness and an aching sense of loss. And I am tired, all of the time, a kind of morass of lethargy coiling about the base of my atoms (I don't think atoms have bases, but if you imagine them like trees, and the tiredness like a morass or actually more a mist wrapping around their trunks, that's the image I mean), weakening them, calling for me to climb back into bed.
Right at this moment I am not much enjoying writing, feel uninspired, stressed that I've got no time to make this good before leaving for work.
But all of that is OK. Because now isn't everything. The unhappiness is still there, but I'm getting better at not adding to it. Getting better at letting myself be how I am. The petals of my flowers (new metaphor, we're done with the trees and mist now) may still be coming out shrivelled and brown, but I'm watering the roots, tilling the soil, trying to pour in no more poisons, let the acid that's in the ground slowly work its way out.
Be miserable now, be pissy, feel like giving all this up. It's fine. I'm still not drinking. Still coming here every day to write.
And along with the shrivelled petals there are, it's fair to say, brighter ones starting to come through as well. I'm feeling spurts of energy, especially this last week, of joyousness and warmth. I'm noticing colours looking more vibrant. It's easier for me to cry. I'm a touch more alert, more confident, my head is slightly less full of silt. I can weirdly sense my physicality more, my grounding within my body, and the bodies of the people around me. Like depression is an illness of the mind (duh), a distancing, a removal into cold abstraction, and what I'm sensing is a return to the incarnate reality of the world.
And with that I can sense not just the matter but the space between us, the nothingness that holds us together, the glorious silent potential of the void.
Interesting thoughts there, at least to me, but I'm going to have to leave them for now because it's time to get ready for work.
Three weeks in, then, and plenty of downs, but plenty of ups, as well, and plenty of room for things to improve.
Until tomorrow. Take care x
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