No One Is Watching

I am running a marathon, here, 4 hours before dawn. Something's gotta give.

I can hear birds outside, and I have opened the window for the cats. I found out that canned unicorn is on sale on Amazon. Although it says not to eat it, I might try ordering a can for the cats...

I need coffee. Grab some for yourself.

I am trying to regulate my diet, so I bought some Special K breakfast cereal. I know, it's a 'girly' cereal, which is ok, cause I am a woman. Also, I need the fiber, and it's supposed to be low-cal, although I can taste plenty of sugar in it, which I don't need or want. Cereal is good enough without sugar in it, or coating it. I am eating lots of yogurt, plain, low-fat, with berries, since it is the berry time of year. And then there is the pizza in the frig.

There is a local pizza shop run by a big Italian family, and they make the best pizza on the planet. There pizzas are also so big, they will last for days. So that's my diet for now. Cereal, yogurt and pizza. Who says you can't do something perfectly? I am also backing off of the diet soda. Which has been shown time and again to stimulate sugar cravings. I am used to water anyway.

All her life, my Mother kept a glass of water beside her, day and night. I remember nights as a child, I would sneak into their room and quench my thirst with the best tasting water in the world. When she died, and my brother and I spread her ashes, we used her ice water glass, to scoop her up. One by one, her friends scooped her up, and flung her into the river, at the same spot we had flung Dad.

Flung. What a word.

Anyway, she wanted to be tossed into the same river, at the same spot that Dad had. So we did. Fictionally, that is, because it's illegal to do that in the State of Virginia. Don't try this at home.

Today is group therapy for borderline personality disorder, and I have to make it. I did dog rescue instead, last week and got reamed by my therapist in my individual session on Monday. He said, "Now I know what your priorities are." Exactly. Me or a dead dog. I choose the live dog, every time. That dog, and fantastic labrador retriever, will be adopted this Friday. You choose.

Of course, it's my guilt that speaks. I was in tears in my session from it. Yes, the DBT therapy group, (dialectical behavioral therapy) is of paramount concern. After all, borderline, and some other factors, have sent me to hell, jail and beyond. It's important that I be able to get along with others, and be able to live with myself.  It's crucial that I 'fit in' to society.

So, I am careful to keep my car clean, and my apartment. I clean myself most studiously, when at all possible, and I have a killer hair style. It looks expensive, and it looks as if it doesn't belong in jail. I don't wear makeup, except for eye liner, and I don't dress flashy, although I have some signature pieces that I take care of. I strive to look like the upper income woman I used to be. I am fortunate that all my jewelry, scents, clothing, and things, have made it into this new life with me. So I can fool myself, as well as other people, that financially, I am in excellent shape. Of course my car is old, and the front windows don't roll down anymore, but any policeman that stops me, will notice how clean it is...

Being creative, and eccentric, used to be a duty for Southern women, now it will land me in jail. Our behaviors and our bodies, as women, are regulated to an unprecedented decree at this time in history. Add the factor that the mentally ill make up the majority of the prison population in the US, and hey, presto: a recipe for disaster. Something's gotta give.

All the animals are asleep, except for Minkins. After all this rain, the garden explodes with color: yellow, rust, pink, red, and all hues of green. I want to weed, even at this time in the morning. I don't think the Pond will make it to a pool again this summer. There are just so many chemicals to be bought, and so much work to be done on it, that it is simply not looking good for a pool, this year. It's good for me that I have a friend named Storm, a dark Italian night of a woman, who has a pool, and likes my company.

I missed my home group, AA meeting yesterday, but had an emergency come up. Nothing medical, just one of those things. But I will have to make one tonight...fortunately, there is one close by. I feel so fortunate that so many meetings happen nearby for me. My motivation is squat, stacked against staying up at night, being tired in the day, and wanting to snuggle with the animals at 7 at night. The winter has left an imprint on me, to not go out in the dark, that is not fading now that it is light so late. My old therapist, Ted, had me convinced I was a vampire. I loved the night, especially in winter, and would walk for hours in the dark with Eddie, my service dog. We walked the Hollins campus, one of my favorite spots to visit. That's Hollins University, a Liberal Arts women's college, nearby, that I graduated from in 1999.

I loved the cold, crispy nights, and my breath running before me, like a fog in the distance. Eddie was fat, and he loved the cold, as well. The tree's shadows, standing like iron bars on the frosty grass. The sound of Tinker Creek, and the scent of the leaves in it. I loved knowing what every inch of that campus looked like, so much so, that I didn't need the light of the moon, or the streetlights, to make my way. I love the gardens, tended by women. Of course, campus security was less thrilled with my visits. I was always watched on my walks. Until I met the vice-president's wife on her lawn one night, out walking her dog. I told her my story, about the rapes and the stalking, and told her how much the women at Hollins made a difference in my life. I told her about Eddie, given to me by a friend, and his talents as a service dog. I told her I walked at night, to hide.

From then on, security seemed to know about me. People at Hollins got even kinder, if that was possible. I did not lose support, even when drinking, as I periodically did during my time there. I got to meet and know the President of Hollins, Nancy Oliver Grey. A kinder women to my Eddie, cannot be imagined. And, that went a long way with me.

I should not have drank, I know, and I lost some dear friends at Hollins to it. It is, what it is. I cannot blame them, and didn't even then. Oh, the people I have lost to my disease! It is a heart-rending thing to bear, at times. New friends have come in sobriety, but I cannot tell the ones I have lost that I now have long-term sobriety, and get them to trust me again. Because I do not.

It's a constant struggle against shame, that makes it difficult to walk into every AA meeting I attend. I do have some knowledge of sobriety. And every day sober, is a day to the good, believe me. I do have support in AA. Especially from people who acknowledge that not all paths to sobriety are the same.  It's very self-defeating behavior, to relapse again and again. I have had 5 years of continuous sobriety, which sounds great, until you look at the fact that I have been going to meetings for 20 years. Still, each day sober is a gift, for me, as well as others. I am grateful, today, for any day I am sober. I make no excuses, and accept responsibility for my actions, although I do not accept responsibility for having the disease in the first place. I was born with it.

Also, yesterday, I forgot my medications. I wondered why I was soooo very jittery, all day, until I remembered this morning. It was not on purpose, and does not seem to be a pattern forming. I love the new anti-psychotic I am on, despite the weight gain. I feel fortunate that I do not, this month, have to choose between the price of gasoline to go to meetings, and the price of my meds, as is sometimes the case for all of us, gentle people. All of us disabled ones and older ones, especially.

I am going to enjoy the rest of this very early morning, with the weeds, pulling them by moonlight. No one is watching, now...