My head is swirling with thoughts and ideas. I haven't found where I want to be in life, but somehow, I feel for me, that when I have, that will actually be when my life is literally over.
Everyday I have a new idea, new insights, and new passions that guide me. I ALWAYS have more questions than answers. I have a semi-conscious voice that reminds me of what I "should be" doing on a regular basis. When I drive down our street of lower-middle income houses, down to the only duplex at the end of the street, that we only rent, I long for home ownership. I briefly envy the newer cars, the boats and RV's parked beside these homes. I imagine the professions these people have in order to allow these luxuries. I imagine houses full of family and love, and many good times shared, and for a brief moment it feels like the only way to have these things is to own a home, a nice car, some toys, and a mentionable profession.
Then I pull in to my front "yard" that is really an asphalt blacktop with scattered weeds. I get out of my wrecked minivan (only had liability when we were rear ended in a hit and run) and I walk up to check the mail, in the mailbox that is about ready to fall off the house, and I settle back into reality.
I walk into my poorly cooled house, settle into the recliner that is next to the window AC, the one that has a view of the street. It is the place that I sit anxiously, when my kids are gone, either at school or playing, anticipating their safe return.
Today I sit and I daydream about my goals... My unfinished degree that was sidelined by my drug addiction... All of the things I once had to "show" for my accomplishments... The new furniture I bought on my own, while supporting my kids and going to school... The Tahoe that I was almost done paying off... The drastic weight loss and plastic surgery that left me looking completely normal, if not even "hot" not so long ago... The credit that I was so close to repairing, after ruining it once before. A lot has changed since then. I do not have any of those things anymore. I lost them all to drug addiction, but the important part for me now, is that they got out of the way, so I could see ME.
The me on the inside is better now, even without all of those things. I think often when people around an addict first assess the situation, they see a loss of "things" and that really drives the pain deeper to the addict, who has likely already lost themselves inside. By the time someone started to take notice of my deteriorated emotional state, I had already heard over and over all of the monetary loss I was causing myself and others. My self worth had already been diminished to that of a societal burden.
It was when I stopped expecting myself to contribute to society, or to the economy, or to the "insert any other person or group of people here," and I realized that I had to contribute only to making my own life work, that I was able to start forgiving and loving myself.
I may never own a house or a camper or a boat. Even though the pain is never completely gone, I have accepted my past. I have accepted the past I had no control over. I have accepted the consequences for the choices I made in the past. I accept my life as it is, even if it is one day at a time and my goals are more dreamlike at this stage in the game.
I choose not to hide behind the things that keep me from seeing me, and so I believe I will have just as much as I need, when I need it.
I may never have a fancy new car, or a perfectly manicured lawn (ha or a lawn at all), or high achieving kids, but I have people I love to share my time with. I have love to give. I may not have recreational vehicles, but I still have recreation (even if it is a free movie at the park) with the people I care to have in my life.
I still have a lot of work to do to work past a lot of the trauma that life has dealt me and that I dealt myself, but for me, the important part today, is that I am still here for the journey.