I read my old posts and grapple with my present fault of seeming to lack a sense of humor. I dunno, you tell me. I remember the wild and wacky days that I could write as a funnier person. My Mother had just died and I had lost my service animal to death. I drank pretty heavily, and I was alone most of the time. Some of my funniest posts came about at this time, but I don't want to recreate the conditions in which I produced it.
When my old friend, Dark Star, and her husband Schrodinger came to visit in those days, I was hysterical with relief at having company that remembered what I was like, sane. And they simply gave me love. It was a well that I drank from, and it was clear, cold water, delicious, and delighting in its' clarity. The memory of those terrible days is still so much of my person, that I have to deliberately slow my body and thoughts down, as it nears time for their visit.
A wise woman once taught me that, if your movements slow, your horse will realize it, and will move slower, as well. It continues to be a good lesson. The body follows the mind, and the mind follows the body. I will have to give up my introverted daydreams in the coming week, and the sugary, fried foods. I will attempt to force my sleep schedule into something resembling normal.
But, I admit that the prospect of civilization that they bring, is intoxicating. I do have group this week, and individual therapy. I have work to do, and responsibilities to live up to. I think the best course of action is to ground myself a good deal, and practice Mindfulness, living life in the moment, which can be so easy and yet so difficult.
But, let's face it. I am a hormonal, bipolar, borderline alcoholic, and sometimes it is difficult to get control of all of it.
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