Sun out and turning the grass and spears of new watsonia, chismanthus, crocosmia a strange charteuse. Greener than any known green. My herbs have drowned. After 10 minutes of clicking my way around the kitchen with the new clicker and the Great Dane pup, he thinks his name is ‘Good boy!’ A faraway friend who has been sober for five years tells me she thinks she can now drink safely and sociably. Good luck to her.
After muesli I sit outdoors and think about friends going through hard times, family crises, health scares. About an ominous dream I had last night that brought obscure fears to the surface, the kind of dream I might appreciate in retrospect. What shadows lurk just out of sight.
And then I think about coping bahaviours, recalling an astute comment on a sobriety forum. What happens when we stop drinking but go on using the same coping behaviours, stuffing down feelings, turning to daydreams and giving up on reality, procrastinating, living through others, living onscreen rather than with others. Starving ourselves, over-eating, driving ourselves in gym or the workplace, disciplining the body but not the mind, chasing after love in the wrong places, wanting to control everyone around us at any cost. Shaming others as we have been shamed, reminding them we have never done this or that, pointing out faults and failures, overlooking our own self-aggrandising manner. It’s called being human.
And then there’s wishing thinking and there’s life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Peace of mind. Contentment. Reading this from Amy’s Humble Musings:
We’re all reaching, trying to tweak that thing that if we could “just get right” will magically make our lives perfect, or at least….happy. When it’s late and quiet and dark, sometimes we are just thinking about how to hold our marriage together. I think about the perfect formula for happiness all the time, though I’m too theologically snooty to call it that. If I could just lose weight, if I could just control my temper, if I could just remember what I wore yesterday but forget about that thing someone said last month, if I could just be open and vulnerable to the people I love — then everything would be okay. Wouldn’t it?