Some sunshine & warmth. Felt like I had my swagger back on my walk to work this morning…but I couldn’t shake a sense of unease all day at that had nothing to do with my mounting priority list.
The hint of seasonal change has stirred something in me, and I’m not sure I like it. I’m starting to suspect that I may be caught up in an unfortunate bout of self-comparison. I see many of my peers almost catapulting ahead in their personal & professional lives, and I couldn’t be happier for them…but I could be happier for myself.
I understand why I feel this way, and I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse: it’s because I am still playing catch-up, in so many respects. I’m just now reaching a rung of adult life that many of my friends were at 2, 3, 5 years ago even. While I am forever grateful & blessed to have given up drinking at the so-young age that I did, those years that I lost (re: threw away) do come with consequences.
I’m trying to manage too much of this on my own, which is old habits & bad form. I need to start picking up meetings again, talking with other alcoholics again, seeking counselors again. So many of my sober support network have such a deep love for me, but with none of them actively working a program, they simply won’t have all the answers I need, or the words I need to hear.
It’s actually really important for me to admit this: I am overwhelmed. And a bit scared. Sometimes angry that I feel both of those things. Altogether they manifest into any number of self-doubts and insecurities — characteristics I work hard to vanquish from the slate of my personality.
I’m not a fan.
Alternately, I don’t know what to do with these feelings other than express them. This often happens intensely (as occasionally witnessed in my writing, which when I review on the other side of publishing tends to read as ‘overly dramatic’). I don’t apologize for this. This is what happens when you don‘t deal with them for so many years at a time — they gush, rather than trickle or flow.
Unfortunately for me, most people in our culture are not so candid and forthright with their deepest & darkest. I know I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, but now I’m confronted with the reality of dealing with rejectiondisappointmentfailureloss as an adult man who is coping only by looking closely at what he sees, rather than dousing (fueling?) the flames. I may be a tortured artist…or I may just be emotionally stunted.
Truth be told, it’s probably both. Processing all of this (some of which is revealed in the very moment that my fingers tap it out on my keyboard) is exhausting; that sucks, because I need all the energy I can muster to manage my day-to-day and have (make?) time to address it in greater depth, with those who are equipped to analyze it.
Furthermore I feel sheepish & childish that I have to feel this way. I know it’s so much just me in my head; I know it’s only fleeting; I know it will pass, as all things do. None of those acknowledgements have the power to make the lump in my throat disappear, though.
Not helping: a headcold. What does help is reminding myself that relatively, like truly relatively? None of this will matter in only a short time from now…because it will be in the past. The passage of time! Gotta be top 3 human abstract constructs for me.
Today’s silver lining: I did jog outside, for the first time in 2015. I needed that, so badly. Grateful I took the time for myself to do it.