The Color of a Flower

This morning is decidedly cooler and there is a slight breeze. I almost slept through the night. It is really Fall.

After thinking about it, I have decided not to play with my medications to get through the weekend. I will just have to lump it. I am better than I was just one week ago, and I think I can do it, with what I have learned in therapy. I don't feel like a drink or cutting today, and I am all for that. Keep it simple. I think I will be quite alright, don't you?

It really what I signed up for, anyway.

I am thankful I thought about it, before doing it. I really don't know what I was thinking. Did I really hope to juggle my meds in an attempt to avoid feelings?  The chances are that I will not drink, but learn to play god while dosing myself. And that, is a danger to my sobriety.

 I think too much of what could possibly go wrong, instead of letting what happens, happen, and then dealing with it. My life is so unmanageable and I don't drink or cut.

I am here in this small breath of time with you. I cannot control anything...not you, not the outcome of circumstances, not the color of a flower. I place it all in the hands of what lives in the forest. I can only do what seems best to me, after consulting another who has sobriety. I turn what is left of my will over to the care of what lives in a forest.

I strive to write carefully, but naturally, and fail.

Because this is my real voice. And it can be a sick voice, and a well voice. I feel like I wear a mask, as I finger paint your face. And all I know this morning is I have dodged a bullet, by not manipulating my meds. If I do not practice what I am taught in group, whichever group I need at the moment, I will be lost.

I keep trying to turn my mind to just this morning. Turn it to just the field and the woods. I fail at that, too. I watch the crazy man next door dance with death, and it changes me like no medication can. This is life.

I get phone calls from the drunk who calls me. I guess he is not in the hospital again, as he calls from his cell phone. He doesn't leave messages anymore, so I don't know what goes on with him. I am glad about that.

Sometimes all I feel I can handle, is me, right now. And my life is unmanageable.  I must admit, watching two people drown is a horrifying circumstance. They have picked me to cling to, trusting a small tree to save them from the roaring river. I think of the friend I have had to leave because of her intense, untreated borderline personality disorder. It is a crisis a day for her. After she dumps her crisis on me, she waits for me to talk her through it, and I am not strong enough to be another's cheerleader right now. Then, the next day, it is another crisis.

I can't do it. I can't save these people. I will be lucky to save myself.

*Rather intense myself this morning, but I can't help but think, though I know I should be meditating and enjoying the dawn. The sky is a lovely blush color. The color of the orange zinnia on my bedside table is like a desert sun. It may be that I am not wearing my mask this morning, after all.