I’ve been wanting to update, but haven’t known what to say. I left my job. I am home. I have a new therapist. I am committed enough to recovery to show up at therapy twice a week and dietary once a week, but not committed enough to eat according to my meal plan. I am tired and depressed and don’t understand how I could have possibly worked the long, arduous days I did when I lived in the woods. I am up for two hours, then need a nap, having done nothing but update facebook and pin a gazillion trivial things to pinterest.
In theory, I want to live a full life, create art, write more, play with babies. In reality, I go to work, come home, and lay in bed wishing for something more. As I am wont to do, I believe my life will really begin with thenextbigthing, whatever that is. The next job, the next boyfriend, the next day off.
The sides of my Wreck This Journal are covered in the words “no day but today” — a reminder that my recovery starts today. That I can’t wait until tomorrow or Monday or June to start eating what I’m supposed to be eating, taking meds, and whatever else. But it applies here, too. There is no day but today to begin living the life I want, creating the art I dream of, becoming the person I want to be.
Today: What will you do with it?