"The pain between my shoulder blades has disappeared."
Instantly tears well up in my eyes.
I know so well how stuffing my emotional pain
makes my physical pain skyrocket.
She's sharing this with me in the very building
I learned how these two corelate, too.
I want to sit there and sob but I don't.
I do let the tears spill down my cheeks.
I've learned to honour my tears,
instead of apologizing for them.
They're part of my story.
Just not the whole story.
So it went at the treatment centre today.
Visiting someone who is in the same program I took part in
not so long ago.
It's been a good and exhausting day.
I went back to sleep this morning only to wake up
and feel like I'd been pummelled mercilessly.
It hurt to move.
My heart was doing its race around the track.
I nearly stayed home but figured
it might be wise to go somewhere
so I could refocus.
I was wanting to whine and curl up in a ball
yet I thought going to a meeting might be more
therapeutic than staying home.
Just before I woke up I'd been dreaming
that a whole group of AAers
came to my house and trashed it.
Ransacked it from one end to another
and broke my most treasured possessions.
They were everywhere, in the house and out in the yard.
They tore down a wall in my porch right to the studs.
One asked me what direction they could shoot a gun after dark.
It was a very weird dream.
This morning there was a newcomer at my home group.
My sponsor kicks ass when she chairs a meeting.
I love to hear her speak to newcomers.
Newcomers from last week,
came back and filled a chair today.
Their countenances were clearer than last Saturday.
A glimmer of hope was visible in their eyes.
I was glad I was there to witness that.
A hot shower and a cup of tea,
curling up on the couch.
That's my plan for the evening.
I am grateful for the day.
For the journey.
And glad that this morning's dream
is nowhere near reality.