I wish I knew what was going on with me. I wish I could explain it to you, so that in turn, I’d understand for myself.
The only thing I can gather is, that with my life about to start again in the real world outside of recovery, I’m living in fear. But, now that I’ve done all this work and come all this way, fear looks and tastes different than it ever did before. It is no longer this hopeless voice that requires drowning out just to breathe, but instead, has become something more static.
I went to my AA meeting this morning, with plans for the day to follow. Shopping, cleaning, doing step work, writing, reading. All these simple, achievable tasks. But, instead, I came home, climbed into bed and didn’t get out of it, the whole day. I watched more episodes of Grey’s Anatomy than I ever have in one sitting, which is saying something. I feel paralyzed.
I know what I have to do, I know what needs to be done, and I know that doing these things will make me feel better. But, I don’t do them. I hibernate and isolate. I climb into the warm comfort of my bed and try to escape the inevitable. It feels like being drunk, only I’m not drunk. I’m just lonely and lost, and have lost the motivation to change anything else. I’ve been going through the motions, waiting for things to to sort themselves out. Waiting for change. What that change is, I still can’t tell you.
I’ve been calling on God. Because, even in my lost moments, I feel him there. I just have to wonder and ask, what is the plan for me? I’ve turned it over. I have, truly. I know one thing for sure, and that is, I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know who I am, or what I’m supposed to be. I don’t know where I’m going or how I’ll get there. That is God’s plan and work. I cannot try to manage that system of living. And, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t seem to matter that there are people around me. AA, treatment, family, boyfriend, friends, all these people at my disposal, and I still feel so alone. More often than not, it’s just God here, by my side, urging me on. And, I want to go on. I want to take these uncertain steps. But, something is stopping me. I wish I knew what it was, because I just want to move forward.
I’m at the precipice of happiness. Looking down on the beauty of this future that is just below. But, I can’t jump.
It’s the fear of the fall. And perhaps that’s where I’m wrong. It is not a fall, but, a leap. Not a plummet, but, a soar.