Evenings are the most difficult time of day for me. Especially late at night, in the hours before bedtime. Sometimes work is an effective distraction, but unfortunately it also over-stimulates my mind and then I can’t slow down enough to sleep. Exercise also wakes me up, which is why I usually hit the gym in the morning.
If the restlessness and unease threaten to become overwhelming, I usually go a meeting–there’s a few in the surrounding area. The crowd gets more, ah, interesting late at night (MIDNITE, anyone?) and sometimes I have to force myself to go, but I never regret going once I’m there.
This afternoon I went to the crispy burnout meeting in my neighborhood for the first time since my relapse and did the hand-raise of shame. Stayed to help clean up afterward. I was invited out to eat afterward, but I declined because that struck me as an irresponsible expenditure right now. A gentleman in my home group is having a birthday party this week, though, and I’ll go to that. I spent the rest of the day cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, and making thank-you cards for the Christmas gifts I received. I also sat down with a big calender and some highlighters and wrote down some 3-month and 6-month goals–mini-resolutions, I suppose.
2011 was a difficult year for me, but it was also productive for me, and I do not regret how I lived it. Because I did live it, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for 2010. When I look at the person I am now compared to what I was like a year ago, there is no comparison. The financial insecurity of the last few months has been dreadful, but it is really nothing–nothing–compared to what I was subjecting myself to in the past. I joke with people I know that I have re-entered the human race. I got a little scorched as I hurtled back down through the atmosphere, sure, but it hurt a hell of a lot less than when I left. And it happened much more quickly (THANK GOD). I have people in my life who care about me–and would probably like to care even more, if I’d let them. My phone rings. In both directions, even. I have plans. I’ve done a ton of writing; my intellect is turned on full-force again and I experience (reluctantly, I admit) a full spectrum of emotions. I have stopped degrading myself, and I have not done anything that I feel ashamed of–aside from pre-Holiday vodka-swilling, I guess–in a long time.
I have a lot to do, but I want to do it. If I make the same amount of progress this year that I made last year, I might still be the sort of woman that I want to be.
The fact is, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I have choices, and personal autonomy. I can’t change the past–there is wreckage, no doubt about that–but it is comparatively light. Cleaning it up is a painful, nerve-wracking chore, but at least I CAN clean some of it up. And I’m free. I can still make a future for myself; I’m not locked in to anything. Miss Margo–Soldier of Fortune–have Parrot, will Travel!