Is it morning where you are? Can you imagine that you are here with me, this morning? I slept late today, and it is only an hour before dawn. It's good. I was due some sleep. I am told that we all lose sleep, sometimes. That everyone has that night when we stay awake, and think of the past...
Some of us are sicker than others. This is from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. It's true. I used to think if I was "normal" that I wasn't sick, but that is not true. My angst comes from a fresh hurt, by someone I thought was a friend, and might not be.
I won't go into details, simply because I have to "Let it Go," another truism from AA. I pray this morning that the Presence heals her, and remember that all illnesses are not diagnosed. That may be sour grapes talking, but the hurt is great, as well. Today, this morning, I will start keeping my side of the street clean, as we say in AA. I have a role to play in the hurt; it is not entirely her fault. As we all play a part in the hurt, inflicted by friends. Even if it is nothing more than expecting perfection from them. Humans will always fail us. That's why our sobriety depends on the Presence in our lives, or our spiritual health, if we are atheists. I take responsibility for the hurt I must have inflicted on her.
This morning, I have set the clothes washing machine to wash, and it busily spins, and sounds efficient, in the bathroom. It is a secret, that I like to clean, when I am disturbed, or upset by any event. You would think my apartment would be spotless, but I am on my meds, remember?
The first thing I do when something adverse happens, is to breath deeply, and then wash the dishes. I wash by hand, and there is something luxurious about having hot, running water, with a lot of suds, to play with. Something satisfying about looking at the cleaned dishes, and the scent of the soap, and the satisfaction of a job well done.
This morning, too, as always, Minkins is up with me. He cleans himself, and sits as close to the jet of warm air coming out of the laptop, as he can. I am fortunate that I have a place to live where they are welcome. Believe me, I appreciate the fact that I have my coffee and ice water to turn to. I have loving friends to share with, and clothes on my back, and food in my stomach. My animals and I have the security of being together.
Somehow, I feel the mania receding. I don't feel that it is through any action of mine, although I have restricted my diet, and continue to take my medications. Water is a great thing, and clean water, drunk in large quantities, is a gift of the universe that is not to be sneezed at.
This is not to mention that I have this way to communicate, for without it, I would surely go crazy. It helps me, this morning, to 'get over myself' and not take myself so seriously. Ego driven creature that I am, I feel I should not be held accountable for my mistakes. But it is my true belief that, as a human, I am prone to mistakes. I have made one with this certain friend, and that is obvious. Now to rectify my mistake, to make amends in the only way possible. To live the amends. To do the best thing I can.
That is keeping my side of the street clean.
But enough angst already, Alice! I do tend to go on and on, and hold my hurts close to my heart, where they stay fresh. I let resentments form, which is deadly for me. I need a meeting, today.
I have my routine today, and I will eat this morning, and take my meds. I will clean myself, and dress carefully, and do what I have planned. I will be careful to try not to hurt others, as much as I can. I will talk with my sponsor this morning, and do something to help someone else today, including the friend I have hurt.
I will walk through the woods to the field, with Eddie, Fudge will trail behind. It is amusing to me that I planted zinnia this year, as always, and yet nothing has come up but the pink ones. If it is a sign, I do not know of what. After an extra long winter, this year shapes up to be one of the better ones, so far. It is not to be expected that they are perfect. Nothing is perfect, unless it is animals, which are as they have been made.
In the center of the forest, there is a ring of blasted trees which send out new shoots. Their pale leaves uncurl in the rain, and the sun. Here and there, a shaft of light reveals a Lady Slipper, or a dark fern. The stream runs merrily, and the grapevine hangs, and invites me to sit on the crook it makes. Not far, the Old Oak stands, awe and mystery cling to it's bark. I feel my heart open up, to look at it. How much of the secret life of the woods has it seen?
My favorite, the old, wild tulip tree stands on the edge of the field...it rains it's flowers at this time of year. They are green, with yellow and orange centers. I can stand on the roots, and hear the tree and the earth talk. I can smell the indescribable scent of Home. The Old House stands further up the hill, watches over me, while I pick wildberries and eat them.
Somewhere, at the edge of the woods, one year I planted gladiolas. I had not studied their habits, and so they never got enough sunlight to bloom. After a while, they did not bother to come up at all. So it is with my friend, this morning.
With my disorders, and my personality, a disagreement makes me feel unclean. I don't like being misunderstood, which is a given considering the effects of mental disabilities. But, as St. Francis had it, it is better to understand than to be understood. Despite the pain, I understand, this morning. And there is nothing for it, but to take my meds, eat my breakfast, talk to my sponsor, go to a meeting, fulfill my obligations...
There is nothing for it today, than to live, and not cut, and not drink. I can do nothing but make my amends and hope for better. Even if I feel a depression that comes on, after the mania. I must not stop living long enough to listen to it. Which is all well and good, until I realize that sometimes, it is no action of mine that brings me low. I know that it is better to be depressed, and clean, than otherwise. A drink will not make one thing better, and will ruin the zinnia that did come up. And there is much to be said for pink zinnia.
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