I have not taken part in that nasty habit that has come to regular thing lately. I have not taken part in 3 days. I feel strange. Strange and alive. I feel like everything is just that bit clearer, slower, breathing deeper. I just had the most amazing improv-writing session...the words were flowing like waves in a wild storm. I have also been knitting up a storm, putting my obsessive energy somewhere. Yet I have also been wearing some serious grumpy pants, causing me to decide to try to shake it off by re-organizing all of the movable furniture in my house (my bed and desk are not movable...but everything else got a shakin'). The grumpy pants are not completely gone, but have kind of transformed into a deep appreciation for being alone. I'm feeling so in love with my home, savouring this alone space while I have it. Savouring my journals....feeling the 19 year old little girl in love alive in me, the 22 year old feminist alive in me, the 24 year old starting new alive in me, the 24-26 year old tired, co-dependant, growing girl in me, the 27 year old adultish-focused-and-following-her-dreams-girl alive in me. I miss some of those other stage of my life who's stories I read in my journals. But I feel them all in me today. Some days they don't feel part of me and I feel as though I am one dimensional. So for today I am stomping around the apartment in my big boots, grumpy but layered in a history that doesn't feel like hiding.
Hopefully in a couple days the grumpy pants will come clean again. Not that I never want to drink and smoke again, but I don't want to do it to hide any part of myself. And the way I feel right now, if I don't ever do it again...I won't miss it.