48 Hours. That’s how long before I’ll be on my way to Toronto, getting on a plane, and heading for recovery.
There I go, watching the clock again.
I have so much to do before I go. The idea of being away for a month is intimidating. I can’t say I’m going to resist being forced to unplug when I get there. It’s been over a decade since I’ve spent a day actually living instead of working, scrolling, typing, swiping – and, of course, drinking.
“The whole world is moving and I’m standing still”
I don’t even know if I’ll remember how to take care of myself. Not to be confused with being focused on myself. Self interested and self indulgent. But, for a change, self care.
I’m looking forward to that moment when I realize that life is going on just perfectly well without me in it back home.
That the world will keep spinning madly on whether I am lost or whether I am found.
“I just got lost and slept right through the dawn”
– The Weepies
I’ve been having a tough time turning my brain off this week. More so than usual. When I committed to going to recovery, I literally cried for 2 days straight.
Like I just found out my best friend was dying.
And over the last few days, I’ve come to realize it’s quite the opposite.
It’s as though they found a cure for my dying friend.
That they’re going to be okay, after all.
The only reason I should be crying is with gratitude for this opportunity.
The opportunity to let it all go.