The title is a throwaway line from a poem I wrote a long time ago. It’s a good representation for how I feel right now. I can’t tell anymore where I’m going. It feels like I’ve always been on the road I’m on now, with no end in sight.
There’s hasn’t been much re-plug in my life for months. Well, not really months. Weeks that have felt like months.
I’ve resorted to Spaghettio’s and spare change, a.k.a survival mode. I now work two jobs, in addition to attending college, trying to see my son as much as possible, and maintaining some semblance of a recovery schedule.
I have been keeping at this pace for almost two weeks. That’s only 14 days. Despite being constantly on my feet, I’d say I am more mentally tired than physically. I think I have a pretty good reason to be tired, but I can’t help but feel guilty.
I’m not doing enough in my “spare time”. I’m not volunteering anymore. I’m not crossing anything off my to-do list. I’m not exploring all of Nashville. I’m not going on adventures. I’m not educating myself with random, interesting factoids, or language learning, or math, instead trading such privilege for mindless newsfeed scrolling to decompress my busy mind. I’m not DOING anything!
I forget that I am doing. I’m trying to catch up on severely past due accounts and negative balances. I’m focusing on what I can eat and what I have to sacrifice, how much money I can’t spend, and how many bills will go unpaid until “next pay period”. I’m counting down to the next hour, which leads to the next few hours of sleep, the next day, the next job, the next mile. I’m in survival mode and that’s all I can DO right now. I’m fortunate to still be receiving my education during this time, but even that makes me feel guilty.
Guilt has been a recurring theme.
My recovery got pretty serious in October, but now it’s falling by the wayside (in my mind) as I can’t attend meetings as frequently. Suddenly, the five minutes I used to spend journaling before bed or the car trip I would spend repeating affirmations to myself seem like unmanageable tasks. I feel like I’m losing ground. Of course, “recovery” isn’t something you can lose. It’s not a tangible thing. Yet I feel guilty for not being up-to-date.
I’m going to go out on a limb and say the next right thing for me would probably be to not be so hard on myself.
I need to rest and regain perspective. Breathe. Take some time. I will get back on track with the actual “work” of recovery, but today is not the day I catch up on it all. It might not even be the day I catch up on laundry. But one day at a time, one hour at a time, one step at a time–I will be okay.
I tell myself that a lot.