I'm having the most extraordinarily uncharacteristic sadness. I'm slit up and sore with wanting to go home. Best problem in the world, of course... I found a place where people truly love me, where I could be at home ... and now, not being there, I miss it. what a horrible thing - to have found something so valuable your heart has to grow simply to house the love. ...still. it never gets any easier. to be away.
invitation today, from them. I wasn't expecting it; normally I get weird announcements about studies and newsletters and such. invitation to go back, to spend three days a mile from home, at a retreat for people in recovery. a chance for alumni to reconnect, an opportunity to recommit to recovery, etc. and it just happens to be the day before, of, and after my anniversary, the anniversary of my admission, and my three years' abstinence. I'm going to cry again, thinking I could be there celebrating that with them... but I can't. even if I didn't buy a thing between now and the end of August, I wouldn't have the money. even if it doese cost less than *one day* in residential. and you know, it would be scary... all sorts of people I don't know, focused on eating disorders - even if it is on eating disorder recovery... and of the three presenters listed, I didn't recognize one name. that's my way of pretending it's ok. pretending it wouldn't be so wonderful to spend a birthday there. it's not ok. maybe I should think about going up for that weekend, retreat aside...
it's always so hard to know what to do.
this apartment in the city... it's practically flawless, and it's such a great area... it's so much better than D!@#$%^... and so removed from all of the bullshit of N*land. but I can't help it; I can't call it home. ...that's the real reason it's not a good idea to go, you know. because as painful as the visit would be - imagine coming back...
I think about giving a rap speak; that'd be another way to go up, to be there. but I can't help thinking I'm not ready. I can talk about recovery, sure. I can answer questions; I can tell what I know of how I've done this. but I don't know that I could look in the eyes of residents who are so sick and not break down. I don't know that I could sit in a room and talk 'from the other side' without feeling like an outsider. it's still too much my home to go back and tell about the life I have away from it.
a birthday party... a birthday party on the lawn near the forest. in the twilight of my anniversary weekend. with fireflies for lighting and people to hug. where it wouldn't occur to anyone to find it odd that I'm eating cake. where no one would take a picture of that for the rarity. where there would be pride only... and where everything, everything, including how well I'm doing and how far I've come, would fall far second to how much we love.
~me