It took a while but I finally admitted to myself I was not well enough to work and began to postpone and cancel assignments, told the office I would not be in. Sat at home and just let myself feel the giddiness and weak nauseated feelings from blood loss and cramping, backache, the pain of the fibroids.
My daily life on hold. A routineless existence of the kind I once dreaded because it would have been synonymous with days sliding into blurry obliviousness, but now they are just days punctuated with cups of tea and low productivity.
Accepting that I can’t get very much done and that I am facing major surgery. The concern of friends and my own anxiety like concentric circles in a still dark pond.
And the time alone is so valuable because it gives me time to chart the new beginnings, the new friendship in my life, the decisions around work, to muse over travel experiences, to think and feel my way forward in recovery. As they say, it is so much easier to stay sober than to get sober. Emotional sobriety has to do with the even tenor of the days, rebuilding another kind of life together with others in recovery, opening myself up to another kind of writing, a heightened awareness of the physical world, risking intimacy.
And down the road the rooster is screaming about love and need and triumph as the sun comes up between the mountains and the day begins noisily and full of the unpredictable.