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My Recovery and Healing Mainframe.
> life_of_every_party.ps1
> death_of_every_relationship.ps1
> recovery.ps1
> healing.ps1
> love.ps1
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"If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn’t sit for a month."-Theodore Roosevelt
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Pain means I still have a heart. It’s better to feel it than to be indifferent. A song, a video, and the truth that love doesn’t disappear when it changes, it just asks to be carried differently.
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Liminality on the first day of August. The farmers market, an old friend, a hug that felt like glitter, a painting that looks like my insides, a poster of suffering hitting the curb, Bigfoot, a fellow multiple exposure freak, climbing shoes and chalk, mountain bikes, ice cream, and a dance nobody saw except the 360 camera. I hit an unexpected new low, in the best way possible.
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I almost walked past a footpath that changed my whole month. Same beach, same stairs, same everything, until one small path I’d never noticed dropped me into a ravine I didn’t know existed. Turns out the dead end had the gold at the bottom of it the whole time, and so did the rest of July.
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Farmers market cherries, a hug and sweet smiles from a sparkling ray of sunshine, a skirt that won in La Conner, and a twenty foot drop I didn’t fall into at Clayton Beach. A silly, fearless, unmasked 201st day of sobriety, and I am the captain of it.
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Two hundred days completely sober from every chemical, gotten in the hardest chapter of my life. Grief lodge, amends without asking forgiveness, being stalked and labeled by people I once trusted and loved, months of nervous system hell, a five year no contact order finally expiring, the manifesto that guided me, a peer support circle that never let me go it alone, and the word I didn’t have until June, autistic.
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I was not a bad partner in any of my past relationships. I was an unmanaged one, running on addiction, undiagnosed autism and PDA, and patterns that took years to intentify and kill. Understanding why does not excuse the damage. This is the difference between being a villain and being a system with the wrong map that still owns everything it broke.
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I’ve been performing again, not for other people this time, but for myself. Selfies, smiles, hand hearts, all real, all covering a grief I haven’t let myself feel. The mask is off.
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