“There is no reason that we should ever be ashamed of our bodies or ashamed of our love.”- David Levithan
What is love?
Today demonstrates that love is perspective. Awareness. Awareness of what you’re doing- how you’re doing it- who you’re affecting- over and over again: Aware aware aware.
Love is aware.
And today is truly life in marvelous times-
In 20 years, it’s comforting to know that my child will look at me the way I looked at my grandparents and say “Wait Mom, you mean not everyone could marry while you were growing up?”
Congrats to equality for all.
Thanks to Thought Catalog for publishing! Happy Holidays Everyone- and this year, not from rehab.
Your alarm’s going off – it’s 5:30am.
Actually, that’s a lie. Despite going over the rehab “list of essentials” with your mother (which laughably do not include shaving kits and mouth wash–apparently in the case that you try to drink yourself to death), you have forgotten to bring a clock.
So no. It’s not your alarm. Your roommate’s alarm, however, is going off and you are nestled in your twin-sized bed under the hideous Floral Comforter attempting to wield yourself into the first nonsexual human pretzel ever performed.
Maybe the nurses will forget, you hope. Sometimes they do. You move the comforter up over your head so that when one of them comes knocking for vitals, maybe she’ll mistaken your lump of a frame for a pillow. (And yes, you do think of that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off… Every.Time.)
Your roommate wrestles from one side to the other–…
View original post 1,549 more words
Happy Easter to all.
Having spent the last three major holidays in Rehab-sanctioned AA meetings, (does Valentines Day actually count as a major holiday by the way? I might be exaggerating a bit for writer’s purposes) I figure why not continue the trend.
Given that this is my first holiday ”back on my own”- Which yes, I do have half my family coyly trying to make ”check in” calls to- I guess- make sure i’m not binge eating chocolate easter eggs- I’m lying here with my roommate searching for Overeaters Anonymous meetings tonight.
Do I really want to go?
In fact, as I write this I’m debating ways I can shirk around it and then still post later that I did go- to which none would be the wiser.
I’m clever, I’m lying here thinking. I can end up just not going- drink some wine with my friends on a balcony- and then praise myself in the morning for being a committed “recoverer” via a post.
Whatta load of bullshit, right?
This is what happens. You lie for so long, you just automatically have a backup tale written for you by your head.
It’s unfortunate- but it’s another side truth.
I am going to go tonight, though I suppose it’s not like anyone will know.
I’m gonna go- and sit in that room full of people that I attended once before.
Same place, same time- a few days before rehab.
I went and cried with my beanie pulled down over my face and I didn’t speak.
I wasn’t ashamed, I just didn’t feel like I belonged. Didn’t feel like I had made myself sick enough to be there-
“I’m not even skinny anymore,” I cried looking at the thinner girls in the room. “You didn’t even do it right.”
I left the meeting that night, a man finding me in the crowd.
Trim, fit, adorning a business suit- he stopped me as I walked out and stuck out his hand.
“First time?” he asked, as I pulled out my headphones.
I smiled at him in my southern way.
“Scott,” he said. “Always glad to see a new face.”
“Lindsey,” I said, wiping snot from my nose. “Thanks.”
“Keep coming,” he smiled, finding my eyes. “It’ll grow on you.”
Right, I’d thought then as I pushed open the door. Going to rehab bud, and then I won’t ever need any of this again.
Ah- to be young and silly.
Perhaps when I go tonight- I’ll talk.
And perhaps afterward, I’ll find Scott, tap him on the shoulder- and shake his hand first.
This is Rehab: Truth 3.5