As the Pink Cloud Fades

I wake up in a writing mood, something I am slowly learning to embrace as a gift. As the pink cloud dissolves beneath me, almost completely now, I know that this is the place where it really counts. This is the place where so many have given up again and again. This is the place where I’ve given up so many times before now. I must keep putting all of this hard work into motion. This means continuing through the mornings where curling into a ball for forever overshadows any memory of joy-to-the-world-leaping-out-of-bed in the morning from this summer. Today is a writing day, I repeat mentally to myself with lots of breaths and without pressure. This is learning about what works, and after shedding the pretense of imaginary deadlines, imaginary critics, and worst of all imaginary audiences, worry just seems so unnecessary.  Listen to your own damn red flags and BE CASUAL! I remind myself with an inhale followed by an exhale of : Today will be all about writing and developing those few concepts I’ve been working on from Drink and In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. This disappears as I look outside and register that it is snowing. My writing day idea pans into a farsighted wave behind me, and if I was actually holding papers in my hands, I would be throwing them over my shoulder right now saying, Cancel it all ! Cancel everything! I am drunk on snow, and I do not want to pull out whatever force it might take for those words just yet. Today is not for the OFC or our inner dialogues because I want to be right here with snow. Do not force me into anymore shapes please, thank you! I obey this small but humble request from something deep enough within me to know better. The test is about showing compassion towards myself like a real person even when I do not want to. There are no rules or imaginary mobs. This is a continuing process, but I am slowly growing out of black and white living, day by day.

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In this quick change of plans, I go and pull out my heavy coat from our travel tubs stacked in the corner. I remember trying to fit this sleeve over my cast last year in Manhattan. Shaking off that whole situation, I know I do not have a broken wrist this time, and I am amazed that this coat survived the smell of cigarettes. I know, at least, it will fit over my arm. Trying on seasonal clothing for the first time of the year is always interesting. The coat slides smoothly over both of my arms, and again, I am in SHOCK. I never know what I am, so finding out that I have indeed lost weight like Michael says is no different. I double take and scan my eyes down my mid section, and yes, there seems to be lots of extra room here. I slide the zipper up and down easily just to be sure. The zipper’s biting teeth up 2-3 & down 2-3. Ahh. Space. Extra space. Weight will always be shocking like a pound of feathers or a pound of bricks. It is what it is, but it is not what it looks like. Leaving my writing station behind, I take dramatic strides in drawing the curtains like Angela Lansbury. This is what windows are made for! I beam to myself about optimum viewing and SEE ME landscapes.

I step out in the cold. It does not take long before the swelling and redness sets into my aging nose and stiff knuckles. My my knobby finger tips are numb. I know these are circulation related body quirks having something to do with drinking and smoking and bulimia, but I am living on the Up & Up. I take such good care of myself now that sometimes it is easy to forget how shitty it used to be, and how I more than once spewed black vomit from my tiny body like it was just a regular Sunday morning. It is amazing what we do to the vessel that does everything to adapt and survive for US. We treat it like it is just another part of our excess. We treat our bodies like just another acceptable consequence of the game like this is life. My hands are numb as I reach the park with bike paths that stretch across the bridge. Each step closer and closer towards the waterfront in this heavy snowfall completes the dream. It brings to life that place in my mind. This is sobriety. This is what it can be, where life is the dream and the dream comes to life in time and readiness. You are ready for what today will bring, I promise. I feel an attachment with this moment. The snow floats down calming me and bringing out that mystic side in me more than I ever remember it doing to me over my entire life. This is a writing day, but it can also be this. These two things can happen together. Losing the pink cloud is not easy, but easy is not what this is about anymore because we are leveling out. In my sober, wide-eyed, gratitude filled mind today, I am ready for the challenge. I am fine. I am so fine. This is even. It cannot be any more peaceful or special than this exact moment I think or it would feel excessive. I was not sure before, but now I think that the pink cloud fades at exactly the moment you are strong enough to see past it. I am strong, and I believe that I am strong. It has to be both. Stand by the world, and you will find peace. May you be happy. May you live with ease in this moment. We are allowed to be right here, right now. Love ❤

For more on the sobriety journey, follow The OAM on Instagram @the_oam, and check out The OAM facebook page. ❤

 

 

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