To Truly Forgive Yourself

I've made big choices that are not good. 

What's underneath

It's not Gustav. Or love. Or creatity. It's not connecting or challenging tasks ahead of me. It's not love, my life is full.

It's not justice, although that gives you enough to fill long bus rides.

One of the answers is coming.

Is this fear or scared?

confusion

(1) I believe in ScrubJunior.

(2) I want him to be happy.

Can both exist without interfering?

I have so much good advice!!

NOT from scratch

New job. No ScrubBestFriend. No ScrubSis. No African. No Brooklyn.

Time to grow. I clean my bathroom now. I take vitamins. Boring essential stuff.

The real work starts in my heart.

Truth: I have to hold on; and still let go.

Losing Allison feels like training wheels compared to this. Our monsters are my lifeline to her. Thank Gawd they love me back... Struggling, growing and LIVING. These two are are the reminder. Even with the+Allison-genetic-awesome-deposit; school and life after soccer still happen. And, it's hard to go through it without her. I hold on to everything Allison.

You have to BOTH hold on and still let go.

I have drafts of the hold-on-letters to ScrubSister and ScrubBestie... (They are soooo long)  I work on them late nights. I only work on them when I can't sleep. During daylight I express holding on with ScrubBestie's poetry and ScrubSister's life in SoFlo (my fam.)

I fear.

A weird fear; the shit's not SCARY. (I know rape, violence, poverty, insecurity, loneliness and being abandoned. I know objectively scary stuff.)  I now know this privilege: fear of being silent for fifteen minutes (without a hard task in front of me.)

Alcohol helps but  NOT a solution for me. I can't function while my addiction is trying to kill me. 

But somewhere on the other side of this fear. Is something. Grow-worthy?

I will clean my fukking bathroom and do laundry. I will cry on my way to work when I miss my sister. 

I'll write what happens if I actually do get to fifteen minutes.

sigh

ScrubSister and ScrubBestie are gone.

It happened over a months ago, within 30 days of each other.

Pain. 

Scrub got her favorite seat

On the bus. 

The little victories make life grand.

I've started a adult job this week. I'm emerging from my bed. And I commute my favorite way, by bus. 

The next car is for my baby nephew and I've got weight goals. So... until your darling scrub is 80 pounds lighter my commute is a little long and involves walking.

The truth: I'm so heavy it is not fun to waddle to work. But other than the waddle my day couldn't be sweeter right now.

Sweet and emotional. My route takes me through spaces I remember from years ago in active addiction. I see the street folk I used to sit with when I was stranded somewhere outside drunk. I don't remember them smelling so bad. I don't remember their faces being so sad. Deep down I know the actual people from these streets are all new. The ones whose names I learned were surely taken from this earth. 

They were taken due the disease I fight every day in sobriety. 

I discover hot tears on my cheeks today, as I ride the bus back to my tiny apartment. Those women and men are gone. I should be too.

Somehow the creators of this universe gave me grace; and let me continue to have a journey.

I am grateful. 

Moved in!

In the new place.

Happy here. Living a mantra about simplicity. 

It's white. and small. Nothing extra.

No car. Everything is so close.

Focusing on work, study, and empathy.

Miss nephew, but focused on supporting his happiness in his new school.

My son is closeby; Love him for it.

Biggest challenges is hooking it up later. and finding a time to walk in this 100 degree heat.

Feel disconnected from the African, but not worrying about it.