As I’m sitting here in my new house we moved into November 1st just being overwhelmed with all this crap to do I think…
Ok, here are my choices, I could kill myself OR do it one box at a time
Honestly I really don’t care for either option. Shit, this sucks.
A big grin overtakes my face and I laugh out loud at myself.
Ok, Clairey, really? Over 5 years ago I didn’t have hardly any of this crap. No bed just a mattress, hell I didn’t sleep much anyways. No massive pots, pans, plates, bowls, glasses, utensils, casserole dishes, shit, I rarely ate. No massive amounts of clothes and shoes to figure out how to fit in a massive closet. (Ok, I’ve always had a crap ton of shoes) No dirty ass husband to clean up after! No 20 month old miracle baby boy to unpack all the wrong things, hit me in the head with the broom on accident, or break anything I’m trying to put away! No amazing connection with my mom to call her and have her say…”one box a day!” No friends that would be willing to help if I grew some balls and actually asked someone. No 12 step program so the thought of even trying to find a solution to life on life’s terms didn’t ever even come to mind. You get my point. My only problem then was where and when am I gonna get more drugs. And of course the obvious addiction problem and wondering if I could go one more time without overdosing.
So why did I laugh just now? I have a built in forgetter. I’ve been doing this recovery thing for long enough that on a moment to moment basis I don’t think about my past and where I am today. I’m just living my life the way it is now. Well thank goodness I stopped and remembered. Not only did I get the gift of laughing at myself but I remembered…
DANG, I seriously have a better class of problems these days.