Week 16: Too much

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Hi, friends,

We’ve almost elapsed into another week without a post, but I wouldn’t do that. I am a consistent person; I hate when people start new blogs or podcasts and can’t keep up with the schedule. I promised you a post a week and I am here to deliver, if only brief.

It’s been a long week, loved ones, not only with what’s happening in our country, but in general life. Between work projects and extra commitments, I’ve filled my days to the brim. I’ve also spent so much time writing – pieces that I hope to show you one day here, pieces I hope you’ll read in print, piece’s that may never go further than my Documents folder. We are in a scared time and I am filling my days with as many words as I can. You could say, I’m writing like I am running out of time.

Everything feels urgent now; so many things need my attention. Big things – like protesting and calling my lawmakers. Small things – like going to my favorite coffee shop before it closed this weekend. I want to do all and be all. When I can’t reach that perfection, I fall.

I often wonder about my life right now and how different it would be if I was still drinking. Maybe it would be exactly the same, I don’t know. What I do know is that now when the car is turning in a direction I can’t control and the steering wheel is far from my hands, I don’t reach for a drink. Instead, I find my running shoes, I take a nap, I write. I don’t know if that’s any better, but it’s where I am.

This is all I have this week, but I am going to ask you all to do me a favor, OK? Be in the real world. Yes, read the news and be informed, but don’t let the toxins of each breaking headline and social media make you hard. Put your phone down and log off for a while. See a friend, take a walk (even in the cold), read a book. Drink water. Do things that bring you joy, even if small and seemingly insignificant. We can’t change the world if we are broken.

The hardest part about not drinking this week: Walking past a bar and knowing that, even though I have never been there before, I would belong.

The best part about not drinking this week: Hungover writing is awful. Seriously terrible.

 

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