Special 

It seems like you’re always waiting for something.. The “right time”… But what is that really?

You save scented candles or lotions… Store delicate towels or body wash… Shelve brightly colored journals or post its… But why? What or rather WHEN are you keeping all these things for? 

You wait for a special occasion but… Aren’t we supposed to believe that everyday is special? 

You hoard these things until they collect a film of dust, they turn garish colours and they expire… Never having been used while you wait…What is special about that? 

It’s time to let go of the mindless wait, the monotonous journey, the muted existence. Light the candles, slather the lotion, shake out the towels, squirt the body wash, write in the journals and doodle on the post its. 

There’s No Time More Special Than Right Now. 

  

Addict Journals cont’d – One day at a time is harder than it sounds…

Now that the addict is in rehab I should feel totally free and weightless… At least for the time that he’s gone. 

But there’s still anxiety. Worrying every time I hear a voice outside that it’s someone that he’s been owing money that has shown up unexpectedly to collect… Worrying if he will leave the rehab before the allotted time is up… Worrying that it will all go back to the same way on his return… 

I’m happy that he’s gone. Extremely happy. He’s out of my sight and I needed that. But it doesn’t alleviate the anxiety of what could happen. It makes taking One Day At A Time very hard… 

I think the anxiety is also linked to… Not knowing anything else. I can’t just be happy in the moment that he’s gone for a while. Even though I try to do relaxing things… I’m not relaxed. I’ve gone to get my nails done, ate sushi and drank wine while with a friend, went shopping, had sex… But nothing is “working”.

I don’t know if I would ever be able to just not be caught up in a vortex of stress and anxiety and if I’m not in it… I can’t deal with the calm. The calm just means some impending storm is on the horizon that I’m totally unprepared for.

Will I ever be able to accept that sometimes things are allowed to be ok?