Hi All. Here I am. Back from my own abyss of overthinking and into accepting my life for all of its joy and pain. I have recently embarked on a new hobby. Gardening! I love it. I feel like I have finally found what I have been looking for in a hobby. I like it, I like how I feel doing it, and it makes my life more beautiful. Gardening has it all. I feel like a kid in a candy shop.
I am lucky to have moved into a home that had a nice garden already so all I really needed to do was clean it up and add what I want. I havent done that much yet but I did get some Geraniums and have replanted them and they seem to be...yes, growing. I come home and check on them. My kids water them. It has only been a few days but so far they seem to be surviving my uprooting them from my friend's really beautiful garden and bringing them here. I think what sold me on them was the smell of the leaves so peppery and basil like and a little floral and just right. I love real scents.
I love real hobbies. I love doing things that bring me closer to the earth, closer to who I want to be. Writing about old friends or (more accurately} old boyfriends is just not for me. Not for the me that I want to be. That is the old me. Obsessed with drama, chaos, and too used to it to really notice it.
I notice it now though. I see it in my last two blogs. The over thinking, the ruminating, the inability to really see the big picture. It is hard to see the big picture when you are so used to only thinking of yourself. It is also quite simply a bad habit to think that I can just have any kind of relationship that I want with anyone I want and expect others to understand exactly why this works for me. I cant tell you how many hours I really obsessed on this, thought about it, felt self righteous anger over this. And then it happened...I realized I was wrong.
This is how long it took for me to realize this. About fifteen seconds. It took someone else (to protect the innocent I will just say someone very important to me)saying something to me about this and about fifteen seconds from when they said it for me to realize that not only was I wrong, I was also playing with my own very special brand of fire. I write this here because it is tied so tightly to my drinking, wound up around it, and in between all of the spaces. My own blind spots. The things about myself that I justify, the defects in character that I explain, the truths I manipulate for my own benefit.
These are familar skills for me. Skills I developed while slurping down my third cocktail and explaining how the glasses were small, or tomorrow was a slow day, or today was a good day, a bad day, I was too sad, I was too happy, I was alone, I was in love, my boyfriend was too something, my life was not quite something enough, it was something for sure to do with someone else, or something else--if I could just explain to you how hard, easy, sad, happy, or anything in between that I was then you would understand. The message was always the same. I deserve this drink. Let me tell you that true to my advertising roots I was always on message.
When I drank, I stayed on message about why I needed to or deserved to. I learned how to twist the truth around to suit my needs. I learned this without even knowing it. Unlearning it takes some serious fucking work. It takes being willing to make sacrifices for the people that you love. It means life, people, relationships dont always turn out just the way that I want. It means I need to accept what the Universe gives me and what it takes away too.
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For today, I have my little garden. It makes me happy to grow things instead of destroy them. It makes me happy to know that I am just a little bit closer to who I want to be today then I was yesterday. Hope you are too. xx
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