There’s a saying that goes something like this…never stop starting. Another is never quit quitting. We can also go with fake it til you make it. Regardless which saccharin saying you choose the intention is the same. Here I am again after a two week hiatus from writing starting again.
When I get stressed I drop all the extra things, all the fun things and tend to come down to a very tunnel vision view of my life. Do the necessary, do the mandatory but throw off all the extra things. I know it’s a coping mechanism. It still sucks.
Daddy left for Texas again today. He’ll be there a week and when he returns he arrives with movers. They will take all his things and some of mine. There has been lots of talk and planning, lots of worry and stress. Now we begin the action of it all.
I’m not promising great waterfalls of words after the drought. I know writing should be viewed as cathartic and I should use it as a way to vent all the stress but I’m a realist. I know me. I stress out, I dive into my cave until the coast is clear. I’m fighting that urge right now. Tell them the good stuff, ignore the worry and strife. Well, that’s crap and it’s not honest. If I can’t write the hard truth then I still have a shit ton of work to do in recovery because that’s the way we did it in alcoholic relationships. Tell everyone life is peachy even when your coaster is about to jump the rails.
So, that’s where I’m at today. All is fine on the surface. All is rumbling with a layer of angst under the shiny surface. I get up and handle each day. Most of the time my pragmatic self is in charge and we’re a go. Once in a while I lose it and cry in the car at a stoplight. But then the light changes and I shake it off.
Time to go to work. Love to my kink family reading this, you know who you are. Thanks for all the talks and love. That includes you too Daddy. ❤️