My journey has become intimately internal. Having shed the majority of my drugs I now find myself staring at myself—a self I have never had the privilege to come to know. Right now I don’t feel I can be particularly articulate about this part of my journey. That may change over time, but for now I will leave you with a brief explanation of how I see my life playing out at the moment.
I am in town house sitting for a friend. I am alone. If I want I call someone or have a meal with my husband—I don’t have energy for people more than a couple of hours a day and not everyday. I need people and I need them close by (the town as opposed to being out in the boonies where I was) but I need them only when I feel I can handle them. I get overstimulated and hypersensitive to everything. I need peace. I need to hear my own thoughts. This feels good. I know I am taking care of myself. I will find a small apartment once this gig is up. It will be able to accommodate both me and my husband and my pets.
I have started a personal hand written journal and drawing with pastels. I have a new therapist who is promising. She suggested I do both things. I plan to start yoga, and meditation in time, but I think my mind needs a bit more clearing and my body a bit more energy. I suffer from a deep, profound enervation and I still have terrible brain fog from the remaining drugs in my system.
Throughout this traumatic time I have a sense of the divine at work. The right people are coming forward to support me. My husband is by my side supporting my quest to find myself.
I need to be quiet now. This may last days or it might last longer—I never know how these mind/body/spirit states will run their courses.
I am profoundly grateful to be in a circumstance in which I will be able to live alone for some unspecified time while I check inside and find my scattered soul.