Bottomless Pits and Deserted Roads

I take a little pad of paper with me into bookstores and write down the titles of books I'd like to own but am too cheap to buy. The library stocks almost any book on my list. Some make it onto my must have own copy list but most don't. I've saved a lot of money that way. And part of the thrill in a bookstore is the unknown anyway. If I could buy every book I wanted it wouldn't be as much fun.

I found my list from this summer's big city bookstore excursion in the bottom of my bag the other day - the bag that youngest son affectionately calls the bottomless pit. Finding that list was better than finding money or candy instead. From my list I put in a library request for Page after Page by Heather Sellers. This morning I read the sentence "Do you need to write?"

My writer's brain can't be shut off or even told to shut up. Take the other day. Dearest one wanted to continue a discussion we'd had earlier and asked if I wanted to go for a drive. The discussion had been somewhat heated and I knew this was serious stuff if we were going for a drive to hash the rest of it out. I wasn't exactly his favourite person at the time yet he took me down his favourite, seldom used, dead end road. The road that borders the land we used to live on. We drove in silence.
About two thirds of the way down the road, writer's brain kicks in. "I know," I thought, "he's taking me down this road to bump me off. This is a deserted, dead end road and no one ever comes down here. He could easily bump me off and my body wouldn't be found for ages, if ever. We used to live right next door and a black bear sat on the pile of oats in our granary only to stick his head out the door if he heard us coming, irritated that we were interrupting his feast. The bear would finish off what dearest one didn't."

And that's how my writer's brain works.
Dearest one just wanted to offload his thoughts not offload me.
Can you imagine?

To top it all off, on the drive back I saw this patch of dirt on the side of the ditch that looked big enough and broad enough to hold a body underneath it. That's what I imagined until I realized it was most likely a really big anthill gone awry. I mean, who is there to disturb the ants way out there? Unless the bear finally ran out of oats.

That is what it is like to live inside my head.

The other day dearest one went into a store and I stayed behind to read my book and people watch. A big truck pulls in beside me and I hear the young man making soothing noises to his dog, making sure it will be okay while he goes into the store. Such a thoughtful young man I thought to myself. He comes out a few minutes later talking sweet talk to his dog as he opens his truck door. The door that slams into my door because he's not watching where he's going. He turns towards me with a scowl on his face that says "How dare you?" as if I got in his way. Um, excuse me, I was here first I think to myself as I smile sweetly.
Much better than telling him if he wanted to discuss it further there's this deserted road I know.
Mwahahahaha.

Not more than 5 minutes later I see a woman put a bag, which might have held a greeting card at best, into the back of her SUV. I watch as she walks around to the driver's side, gets in and goes on her way. I sit there and wonder....is the rest of her vehicle so full of stuff the greeting card bag won't fit? Or is that what normal people do and here all along I've just been tossing the bags helter skelter in the front and back seat. Oh, maybe she's worried that it will hit her in the head in case of an accident and it's safe and sound way back there. No wait, it could become a flying weapon if she brakes at just the right speed and she could get killed in a freak accident by something as innocent as a greeting card. And here all I carry in the back of my van is the windshield wiper fluid and extra oil. Um, ya. On second thought putting a greeting card in the back of the vehicle wins hands down.

And so it goes.

I need to write.
Otherwise my head might resemble the bottomless pit of my handbag fame.
On the other hand, you never know what treasures could be lurking there.

No plastics required

"Put a smile on your face."

I turned as I heard a father say those words this past weekend to his young son, a boy about 8 years old. The son obediently put on one of those plastic smiles and they carried on their way. I stood there a bit dumbfounded. A simply exchange between father and son. Both the request and the response happened mid stride. The father not even stopping as he threw the request back at his son and the son complied. How weird is that?

No weirder than my own history of thinking my kids were not only an extension of myself but a reflection, too. If you looked at them at any given moment I was sure you would see me reflected there and because I defined myself in negative terms, well, I needed all the help I could get. If that meant they stuff whatever their reality was in exchange for a plastic smile, so be it. It adds a whole new sick dimension to the phrase, "If momma ain't happy, then nobody's happy." It was more like, "If momma ain't happy, pretend you are anyway, her reputation is at stake."

One of the gifts of recovery is that I no longer see my kids as an extension of me. They are free to be themselves. As adults especially, they were free to do that before I entered the treatment centre but I didn't quite accept it then. I no longer beat myself up for what my reality was then, either. Staying in today demands that I let it go, that I forgive myself and focus on the here and now. Today I free them from my expectations. I free myself from expectations, too, especially the expectation to be perfect. Accepting life on life's terms is what I try to do.

Another gift of recovery is that I no longer let myself be defined in negative terms. When I catch myself calling myself down in my head I remember that I am so much more than the sum of my failings. I still get a bit giddy when I remember that I get to define me. No one else. Not even my behaviour has the power to define me. I get to choose how I see myself. And though the struggle has seemed mountainous lately, it's a gift of recovery that I can still look in the mirror at the end of the day and say, "Thank you for being you." It never fails that as those words come out of my mouth a huge smile erupts and my eyes twinkle. I stop for a moment and check within myself to see if my words and my inner attitude are in sync. Denial has so long been a coping mechanism that it's taking me a while to trust myself. An addict can lie to anyone, especially themselves, effortlessly. So it's felt like a miracle that every time I've checked, my inner and outer realities match.
No plastics required.

Graced

Yesterday my addictions
beckoned.
I circled
their edges,
looking forward
and back
while trying to wrestle my way
out of here and now.
Graced that the darkness
didn't ensnare.

Yet victory feels
lifeless.
Worse than if
I had jumped
right in.

Today my body is spoonless.
I'm raging at that reality.

Reality.

I was unwilling to
live in it
yesterday.

Today brings
its own reality.

Accept,
Courage,
Wisdom,
Grace,
Surrender.

On Track

"If nothing changes.....nothing changes!"

That is one of the great catch phrases that Earnie Larson says again and again in his stage II recovery videos. Yesterday I took it to heart. I've had a couple of days of feeling like I'm going to slip right back into old habits and to hell with recovery. So last night I moved my journal and AA books, etc. back into the night table drawer so that I have a greater chance to take care of those things first in the morning. They were in the livingroom and I am skilled at getting sidetracked by whatever comes my way on route from the bedroom to the livingroom in the morning. No wonder I then find myself at 3 in the afternoon without having done any self care, any of the things that will enhance my recovery and keep it on track.

Thank God for a new day. An opportunity to change something.

Sobering Times

It's beautiful yet cold out this morning. The radio reports snow falling the area but thankfully I can't see any. The high for today is 6C which is somewhere around 40F. Want to trade places with me?

As I breathed in the earthy fall scent coming towards me from the bush yesterday, I gave thanks for the changing of seasons. Glad for the turning leaves and colder days that prepare me for winter. Especially glad for the winter that will mean the bear, that keeps letting me know it's around, will be sleeping. Dearest one and youngest son have been teasing me about the bear bell I carry with me on my walks. Caving into peer pressure from them I decided to leave it home one day last week. I had already been on one walk earlier in the day and they keep reassuring me the bear is only making its rounds early mornings. Ha. Sometime between my morning walk and my late afternoon one it had left its trademark at the side of the road. Had I been watching out my living room window I could have caught it in the act. Peer pressure be damned, the bear bell is a constant companion now.

Youngest son and a friend had a close call on the weekend. I say their angels were working overtime. They had headed out to go hunting, taking a trailer with two saddled horses in it. They had planned to drive to the river and cross on horseback to hunt on the other side. One thing treatment taught me is the futility of worrying about things that may never happen. Previously I would have thought it was all up to me to pray constantly so that they got home safe and sound. Sounds like I think I'm God or something, eh? Okay, to be honest, I've thought everything was up to me. It's not. I know that's not news to you but it is to me. Anyway about 15 minutes after they left home the phone rings. The horse trailer had a broken spring and as it broke the horse trailer broke away from the truck completely and slid on its side down the road, passing the truck as the guys were trying to come to a stop. Makes me shiver still to type that. Eventually both the truck and trailer got stopped. They were able to get the horses out of the top of the trailer, which had its top peeled partially away in the accident. Miraculously the horses had minor injuries. The boys felt pretty jittery. Youngest son commented later on in the day just how little time it took to die. At supper time he offered to be the one to pray, giving thanks for the safety of the day.

While dearest one was helping these young men get things upright again his cell phone rang. On the other end was a coworker telling him of the death of one of their colleauges the night before. A young woman in a tragic accident of her own.

It was a sobering weekend.

So Much Goodness

I thought I knew what I was going to write when I logged in but here I sit looking at a lot of white space instead.

I've spent the morning finishing Patrick Carnes' book Out of the Shadows. A book about understanding sexual addiction. I realized while in treatment that my compulsive overeating and sexual addiction started before I ever turned to alcohol. If I slip in these areas then the alcohol will eventually follow. Want to know a neat acronym for the word SLIP? Sobriety has Lost Its Priority. Works for me.

This book had such good information in it. Stuff that I articulated in treatment without any knowledge that it was a common theme for addicts of all kinds. Like holding these core beliefs:

1. I am basically a bad, unworthy person
2. No one would love me as I am.
3. My needs are never going to be met if I have to depend upon others.

Carne's counters with new beliefs:

1. I am a worthwhile person deserving of pride.
2. I am loved and accepted by people who know me as I am.
3. My needs can be met by others if I let them now what I need.

The last page of the book had a quote from Walt Whitman that brought instant tears to my eyes:

"I am larger, better that I thought.
I did not know I held so much goodness."

I'm starting to believe that in my heart.
Thanks be to God.

Illusion Meets Reality

"The more we were forced to lean on God, the more quickly we gave up our illusion of control. Only then could God do something with our lives."
~ Paula Huston in The Holy Way

There's nothing an addict, like me, likes better than the illusion of control. It's downright comfy like my favourite pair of flannel pjs. I could stay in it all day. Well, okay then, all my life. And why'd they have to tell me it was just an illusion, anyway? Damn.

Truly the illusion is not working too good for me anymore. And so these days I'm learning to let go a little quicker and leave whatever God is doing with my life in God's hands. I'm just here for the ride.

This week the ride has been ever so bumpy. "Let me off" is the refrain I most wanted to shout as I got tossed to and fro. But here I am, it's Friday and I'm still connected and in one piece. Thanks be to God. On my own strength I'd still be oblivious that there truly is another way to live this life.

I met with my after treatment counselor today. Many tears. A few laughs and even a smile through the tears at one point. I needed to hear her affirm that I am indeed making progress, especially today when I feel like I am mired in the muck and moving nowhere. I am grateful for the many affirmations she was able to give me. Today I have 3 months of no binge eating. Tomorrow will be 10 months of abstinence from sexual addiction. And then there's the 19+ years of sobriety; the six weeks of stage II recovery. I've let more opportunities than I can count go in the past 2 weeks to caretake another living soul. And the world didn't come to an end in the process. It actually is possible to worry only about my side of the street. Baby steps.

The first words out of my mouth, before we even reached her office, were "the honeymoon's over." She listened as I processed these past 2 weeks. Thank God for the ability to be objective. Her ability, that is. My own's been a little blurry this week.

I learned again that using all my energy at this point to stay in recovery and do good self care is normal. I was judging myself for not being able to focus on anyone else (well, except when I am focused on everyone else. You know that x-ray vision where there's such a friggin huge log in my own eye I'm squinting all beady-eyed at others.)

The nitty gritties are too painful and too personal to write about. Patterns that are so mired in the muck that it would be easier to continue to keep looking the other way. But I can't. Unless I want to go back to the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Last weekend at the AA Round Up I bought a picture frame with Earnie Larson's phrase If nothing changes......nothing changes on it. I had laughed right out loud when I saw it because it just is so true. And I'd really like a bit of sanity so change must happen and it starts with me. Oh God, I've typed myself right into a corner. Damn.

It starts with me.

Forward Movement

"[The spiritual journey] keeps us moving toward instead of away from. Even when it drags into view our deepest and most shameful wounds, our most fiercely guarded secrets, it does so in the service of that forward movement, that progress toward the light. Without seeing ourselves as we are, we can never see ourselves as we were meant to be."
~ Paula Huston in The Holy Way

I'm trying to accept where I am on the journey today, doing good self care while being right here, knowing how I feel today is not a lifetime sentence. I feel a bit adrift. The old coping mechanisms, the old defenses not only never took me to a healthy place, but I have a new way of seeing that makes running back to them pointless. Well, unless I want another lesson on just why they don't work. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Knowing that doesn't stop insanity looking rather attractive some days though.

One of my biggest hurdles lately has been "awfulizing". I took several sessions of Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy in treatment and awfulizing is that thing I do when, for example, the guys are late coming home and I have their funeral planned and everything, while they just decided to stop for coffee and there really was no car crash. The kind of thing that has me jumping to conclusions effortlessly, conclusions not based on reality. I've been battling that lately. Stopping it really, as soon as I realize I've gone there again. I am thankful that I don't expect myself to not go there, that bit of perfectionism is dying, thank God. And I am also thankful for the grace to recognize the pattern when it starts. But it requires a constant monitoring of my thinking that feels exhausting. I have a friend who used to say to me "Hope, worry about how things are, not how they seem to be." I need to phone her and tell her that after a good 7 years of telling me that, I get it now.

How things are has so much less drama.

A week ago I had my interview at the sexual abuse counseling centre and I can trace my mood nose diving since then. I feel very vulnerable and curling up in a ball pulls at me. I've wrested with several days of sloppy self care. I've had to force myself to do those things that are pivotal if I don't want to relapse. Do my reading, prayer, meditation. Shower, get dressed, eat healthy, exercise. This is where the journey gets rocky. Investing all my energy on doing the simple things that will help my journey move forward instead of stagnating in old ruts. My family doctor assured me yesterday that the people he's known who go through the whole counseling process at this center come out of it being able to cope much better with what life throws at them. Their ability to cope with how things are improves drastically.

Okay now that I've got that out of my system I can look again at how things are, instead of fixating on how they might be in the unkown future.
Thanks for listening.

Melting The Invisible Shield

All I wanted to do this morning
was isolate.
Spend the day alone.
The kind of alone
that keeps others
far away from
my invisible shield.
Even though they are standing
right beside me.
The honeymoon
feels like
its over.
The treatment high
honeymoon.
This is such
fucking
hard
work.
A year ago I set myself a goal.
Go to this year's AA Round Up.
A whole weekend devoted
to sharing our
experience, strength and hope
with one another.
Good food.
Good fellowship.
Good.
Today was time to
meet that goal.
I didn't want to.
I told myself it was no more
scary than going to treatment
and look what happened
when I risked that.
So I forced myself to
shower
get dressed
drive to town.
I was doing
the next right thing
even though every fiber
in my body
was resisting.
Resisting like a horse
when you tug on its
bridle and it digs
in its heels
and stands firm.
Only this kind of firm
is so very dangerous.
And so I went.
Tonight I feel
grateful
for another day done
where I can
thank God
for another
24 hours sober
and
in recovery.
Real recovery.
Moving forward.
Giddy up and go.

Skin Again

By bell hooks

"The skin I’m in
is just a covering. It cannot tell my story.

The skin I’m in is just a covering.
If you want to know who I am
you have got to come inside
and open your heart way wide.

The skin I’m in looks good to me.
It will let you know one small way to trace my identity.
But then again
the skin I’m in will always be just a covering.
It cannot tell my story.
If you want to know who I am you have got to come inside.
Be with me inside the
me of me,
all made up
of stories present, past, future
some true to life
and others all
fun and fantasy,
all the way I imagine me.
You can find all about me–
coming close and letting go
of who you might think
I am
before you
come inside
and let me
be real
and you
become
real to me.
All real then. In that place where
skin again is one small way to see me
but not real enough
to be all
the me of me or the you of you.
For we are all inside
made up of real history,
real dreams,
and the
stuff of all
we hope for
when we
can be
all real
together
on the
inside."

~ bell hooks is a poet, an essayist and an educator. This is the text of her children’s book, Skin Again.
~via

This text says so much about where I am at in my journey right now. Being real. Getting to know myself. Letting others in to see the real me.

Wishful Thinking

Sometime before I went to the treatment centre Heidi tagged me for a meme. Somewhere in my pile of papers scattered hither and yon I have the meme answered already. A lot of good that's doing me right now! Last night as dearest one and I walked he pulled this fat little notebook from his pocket and offered it to me - for those notes you're always making - he said. He said it would be better than me tearing bits of paper off a page and writing God knows what on them. I told him all those bits made sense to me. He shook his head at that point while I reached out and took the notebook.

Anyway, here are the rules of the meme:

- the person has to either be a) dead, or b) alive, but no way you'll ever have a chance to have dinner with them.
- real people only. no fictional characters.
- it's not 6 individual dinners. it's a dinner party with 6 people (plus you). think of the mix.
- assume no language barriers. in other words, it doesn't matter if they speak or spoke another language than you and your other guests. you have magic instant translation technology.
- Jesus doesn't count. it's a dinner party. therefore, 2 or more are gathered. therefore, Jesus is already there.

Consider yourself tagged if you'd like to do this meme.


First of all I wanted to plan the menu just as much as who will be there. But I won't.

1. Rich Mullins. The photo of Rich on the back of An Arrow Pointing To Heaven haunts me. [click on the back cover link on the left side of the linked page to see] His eyes feel like they are trying to tell me everything that's truly important in this life. While in the treatment centre I listened to his Songs CD as I went to sleep every night. My family groans, I'm sure, with the thought of me fixating on a CD of any kind. I have this habit of listening to a song or group of songs daily for a very long time. Rich Mullins' music is one of those fixations. I want to pick this man's brain. Well, really, his heart.

2. Brennan Manning I can't think of Rich without thinking of Brennan. I have had dessert with Brennan. I regret that I was in a pissy head space at the time. [long story] My friend had told him I was a writer and Brennan asked me if I was writing anything....just know I let that opportunity to share that part of myself with him blow right by me. I will always remember Brennan's interaction with our waiter. He drew that young man right in with his questions about his life away from the restaurant. He was not making polite small talk. Brennan was genuinely interested. I saved for a long time the chocolate Brennan gave me. The one his hotel staff had placed on his pillow after they cleaned his room. So dinner with Brennan would have to include chocolate even though I am allergic to it and eating it makes me itch. I really would like a second chance to get a glimpse of this man's heart. Absorbing Brennan's teaching in his workshop was, well, life changing. I had this sense that God was working something out in me, in such a deep place that I couldn't access it. It was several years later that that working out bore some fruit and a lightbulb went on in me. While I was in treatment one day someone new in detox came into the lunch room and his resemblance to Brennan was strong. Similar facial features and the same build, same white shock of hair, but younger.

3. Anne Lamott Anne Lamott gave me hope that I could be comfortable being my authentic self and a Christian. That I could laugh at the ribbald jokes that I still found funny while embracing my faith. It's as if my face relaxed when I read her words. She gave me hope that I could stop playing the game and start being real. I admire the way she can zing me with her wisdom when I'm least expecting it. More gentle than a slap up the side of the head, but every bit as effective at getting my attention.

4. Okay, I was reduced to trying to find the elusive piece of paper with my list on it. No luck. So I looked above my computer to see whose quotes are the most plentifully plastered on the wall. Thomas Merton it is. I have a little pocket book of his that I carry with me to read in waiting rooms and such. One gem after another. I've read several of his books and am reading quotes of his on other's blogs regularly. My favourite right now is this one:

"If I, as a Christian, believe that my first duty is to love and respect my fellow in his personal frailty and perplexity, in his own unique hazard and need for trust, then I think that the refusal to let him alone, to entrust him to God and his conscience, and the insistence on rejecting them as persons until they agree with me, is simply a sign that my own faith is inadequate."
~From "Apologies to an Unbeliever" by Thomas Merton

5. Flannery O'Connor I haven't read much of her work but her Habit Of Being book was one I could hardly put down. I have two favourite kinds of books. Those thin ones that cut through the crap and contain so much worth savouring. And the ones that are thick which you wish were never ending, with tidbits of jewels scattered throughout. The Habit of Being was of the second kind. In having Flannery to dinner my wish would be to absorb through osmosis her way of interpreting life and human beings.

6. There was a point in reading her The Shaping of A Life memoir that I stopped and simply let what she wrote sink into me. Into my bones. In Phyllis Tickle I felt I had found a kindred spirit.


All the people I've chosen have shown me their humanity in one way or another through their music or writing. I want to eat with people who can laugh at themselves one minute and in the next show me their heart. People I can be myself with. One day I hope I can be like that with anyone, but I'm so not there yet. And while I wrote about people who could be considered famous in some circles I thought of many of you as I typed. Some of you are linked in my mind with some of these people I have chosen. Sometimes because I know you admire them as I do and sometimes because your lives have had just as much impact on my life as theirs.
Bon appetit.

Jingle, Bells, Jingle

This morning dearest one and youngest son went out the door together, headed for college. A few days before I went to treatment dearest one started working at the college as an instructor and one of the perks of his job is that family members get to attend college tuition free. Youngest son is starting some upgrading courses today, hoping to eventually be able to take some post secondary classes. I home schooled my kids for 15 years so this week will be youngest son's first experience of being in a classroom. He excited and nervous, as you can well imagine. He said it would just be so much easier to get a job than go to school.

I'm headed to town in a bit to have lunch with one of the members of my group from treatment. We haven't seen each other since we left the building and it will be good to catch up and laugh. She makes me laugh a lot. I phoned her on the weekend because I wanted to visit a bit with someone before I head over the the sexual abuse center for my first appointemnt. Seeing my friend will be like getting a pep talk that I can indeed do this.

Before I do all that though I think I'm headed out the door for a walk. I say "think" because twice in the last week I've seen bear droppings on the side of the road. The road I'm walking on. Like just down my driveway and a bit. Maybe if I just look out my living room window I could see the bear full stride. I hope not! Today I'm going to be buying bear bells. They look like those bells that horses used to have on their collars while pulling the buggy to Sunday go to meeting times. Bear bells come on a piece of belting that I can fasten to my belt loop and hopefully it makes enough noise that the bear goes one way and I go the other. Just last month a man from around here had a grizzly bear charge him and he stabbed it to death. Yes, stabbed. That's how close the bear got. The bear that's doing his business on the side of the road is most likely a black bear.

Days like today I miss my treadmill.

All or Nothing

"You've got to be kidding me?"

That was the open mouthed shocked expression I gave my counselor more times than I care to count while in treatment. Which she all duly noted and wrote down. I get my summary from her next week. I'm sure it will be pock marked with, "Hope continues to be surprised that she is so sick in her thinking." I typed all that with a big grin this morning because after a while my being shocked ceased to surprise anyone, including me.

One of those shocking realizations was that I tend to think in terms of all or nothing. I learned every addict is an all or nothing person. Which makes me feel a bit better. I mean, who wants to be alone in their sickness? Want an example? All or nothing thinking looks something like this: "Oh, I just ate a piece of cake. Oh shit, I didn't mean to do that. Oh, what the hell I might as well eat the whole cake now that I've blown it." The kind of thinking I excel at. It's the same kind of thing that leads a person from one sip to an all out drunken binge in what can seem like 60 seconds flat. Or how about this one: "Darn, I missed exercising today. That means my whole exercise plan is shot. I might as well not exercise until (next week, next month, next year.)" Next year is my personal favourite.

I know it's possible to stop thinking like that. I'm hoping it gets easier soon. This morning I am sitting here with quite a few less spoons than I'd like because of wonderful all or nothing thinking I indulged in yesterday. What can I say? Old habits die hard.

I had an excellent session with my after care treatment counselor yesterday. For most of an hour we sat and discussed my treatment experience. Then came the hard work. The homework. The practical application of what I learned and what she expected me to do about it before I see her in two weeks. Talking about it, or typing about it for that matter, is so much easier and less risky than actually living it. Which was her point exactly. So before the next two weeks is over I get to choose one very big elephant in the closet situation in my life and bring the elephant out into the light. She showed me how to choose the timing by making sure neither I nor the other person involved is not Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired when I start the discussion. All she wants me to do before I see her in two weeks is acknowledge out loud to the other person there is a discussion to be had. Baby steps, Hope, baby steps. Which is far removed from my all or nothing thinking which in the past would have had me not only dragging that elephant out of the closet but getting to the other end of the discussion in one long fight discussion.

After my session I went shopping. One of my after care plans is to stop being a martyr and admit I have needs. Like adequate clothes. Today we have a wedding to go to of a close family member. I was able to find something yesterday so that when I look in the mirror at myself I can smile and feel comfortable and confident. I somehow have lost enough weight in the past month to drop two sizes in clothes. And in my all or nothing thinking that must mean I either have cancer or diabetes. See, it's just so darn easy to slip into that mode! Realistically dropping two sizes is what happens when I go from being a veritable sloth to moving at a much greater speed. Not feeding my feelings helps, too.

Last night, after a long day in town, I was on a mission to go for my evening walk. It didn't matter that my body was trying to tell me that really, Hope you've done enough walking for a day. How about a shower and bed, instead? Not me. Nope. In my all or nothing mentality I had to prove to my body that I could still go for my walk. Which I did. Which meant I fell into bed before 9 pm and which also means I am starting another long day without adequate spoons to get through it. Which also hopefully means that tomorrow I will have zilch to prove to my body and will settle for something that looks a lot different than all or nothing.

Can't you just picture my all or nothing mentality being greeted by a much more reasonable viewpoint tomorrow? Can't you just hear it say
"You've got to be kidding me?"
To which I will reply
"It's been so nice knowing you, my dear. Farewell."