I find myself yearning...still...to be just a little bit sick.
Barely queasy enough to slow me down, and lessen my responsibility.
I recently had strep throat and it tickled my itch to check-out.
Because I was sick, I couldn't eat much, so I didn't have my usual energy.
Without the full force of mind and body, I was content to coast.
It felt like riding a bike down a slight decline. I could pedal if I wanted, but I didn't have to.
I could stay home under the guise that I was resting.
I dropped a couple pounds, and my waist felt wispy. My muscles went into hibernation, demanding nothing.
Will I ever not relish this feeling of the empty belly?
Will it always arouse my senses as the smell of cigarette smoke and red wine?
Now my Awakened Soul is the stronger arm.
It slams down my Urge to Escape and forces her head up to see Vast Possibility.
She doesn't want to. For a long time, I called her Lydia. This whispering vixen who would lull me to sleep.
Now I know, she is not separate from me. She is the part of me who holds back. I do not need to cut her off. I need to pull her in. Rock her in a chair until she is ready to join the world. For hers is also the sensitive heart. She is the one who is afraid to be hurt, afraid to fail, and afraid to loose things.
I smooth her hair and whisper the truth:
Yes the world is scary. You will get hurt. You will fail. Things will unfold differently than you intend. People will leave. They will die. You have limited ability. All of these truths are part of being human. It is ok to be this way...to be human. It is the most beautiful experience available to you.
When I am awake and the truth is zinging, I cannot hold back.
It makes no sense to be sick.
I realize it is a privilege to be an artist, a writer, a mother, a sober alcoholic.
If I believe that my spot could be filled by anyone willing to do the work, then I want to be the one to fill my own shoes.
If I don't teach, someone else will.
If I don't paint, someone else will.
If I don't write, someone else will.
And if I am not sober, the tide of recovery will continue to swell with those who are grateful for a 2nd chance.
The ones who are simply happy to wake up Not Sick.
Remember that?...when waking up without a hangover to watch the sunrise was enough.
But I guess I just get tired sometimes.
The trail feels monotonous and I question whether I am actually going anywhere.
In a way I am not. I am not going anywhere. That is not even the point.
The point, as I can understand it, is to connect with my fellow travelers.
It is to walk with them, share meals with them, share stories, and strength.
The point is to shed my illusions so I can give what I have to give.
But those illusions - I like them. They shut out the fact that I don't know where the trail ends.
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