It wasn't so long ago that I was just a happy pig in healthy shit. I can look back at the blog, and it was just like last week. I'm still ok, still growing and all that old bullshit, but my man is stuck in some kind of unconquerable funk. I want to get involved.
I don't need to be involved. He's doing him. I should be off doing me, taking care of myself, not messing with him. But I REALLY WANT to mess with him. I want to cheer him up and argue with him and chase him around the house and go through his stuff and meddle and do all the things that I know better than to do.
I don't know why. I know the routine...3 steps forward, 2 steps back, slow growth, early recovery, relapse is a part of recovery...blah, blah, blah. I know all the parts by heart.
I am frustrated lately with the litany of truths that contradict and intertwine with one another. I am frustrated with feeling hopeful and despairing, in love and infuriated, completely drained of all my energy and completely invigorated by my fledgling spirituality...I don't know anything.
I'm off to a meeting.