Okay, so maybe it's not all 'fine'

It's fine, I keep saying. But it's not fine. I'm not fine. I'm really not. I am struggling beyond all measure and I am scared. And I've been allowing that to seep into a glass of wine here, two there.  Not terrible amounts, but when you're sober for 2.5 years, any alcohol knocks you on your ass   The urge to be an irresponsible asshole is high  and I don't want that for myself. I mean, I've not fallen down the cliff-face but I'm on a ledge and the drop, well...yeah. It would be ugly. It is ugly. And unnecessary. Sheer. I don't think I'd snap back the way I have in the past.

I don't like this turn I've taken, and I don't like feeling like I'm being manipulated, especially by my remaining parent, which is what ultimately it feels is happening.  So, as my lovely coach would say, 'Control, Alt, Delete.'  I'm getting back to the basics and I am not going to hide from who I am or I was.  I am not the victim in this narrative, nor am I the villan or hero.   Today, I'm just the mama catching up on housework, you know? 

My dad's situation is deeply disturbing but the reasons for it go back way before my time.  His decision to not allow a doctor or EMTs to help him up, to decide to continue to mess himself, it's not a copus mentus one, but there is only so much I can do, when even the US Embassy won't allow for an emergency passport for my boychild and I'm not in a position to leave the kids with family or friends in the UK - that whole pandemic thing, you know?

 The social conditioning to be a 'good daughter,'  right up there with 'good mother,' both deep and devisive.  How we define 'good,' is based on our lexicons of experience, our nuances of exposure.  I think about these issues a great deal, as I flit through my day. Sometimes, the Universe sends me a little nudge, like this:  

https://link.medium.com/4Zytm8sXVhb

I've been struging to remind myself  that I am part of my history but I am not my history, I am of my parents and family but I am not direct extensions of them.  It's a family arboretum, not a tree. The root systems may be linked but they are also self-sustaining.   I have be honest and say I am not in the market for an almost 70 year old man child who is refusing medical help.

 If it's time to talk end-of-life/right to die, that I can do. I am a huge advocate of a person's right to make the choice when it's their time to cross over. I've seen way to much suffering in the name of 'do no harm' and the worries about malpractice suits to not have a working knowledge of 

Yesterday, I had a deep moment of uncomfortable revelation that my inner 17 year old has been running the show the last 2 months and that her coping mechanisms are dangerous and getting out of hand. I've been driving too fast around really dangerous roads, desperate to not think and leaning on other, outmoded  coping mechanisms to do just that: not think.  I'm moving faster than my body, walking into walls, losing keys, finding myself spending too much time stuck on a rumination loop.

And that is not who I am anymore.  I love 17 year old Rachel, but this isn't 1995 and my mom hasn't just enlisted me in the Army.  I'm not going to miss the end of my senior year of high school.   No one is screaming obscenities at me. I am not in imminent danger, no matter the internet trolls. 

My people, my tribe, they are genuinely rooting for me and really want only good, true, beautiful things for me. I desire good, wholesome, juicy delicious things for me. I am more than enough and I am safe in the love and honour of my tribe. But I am being honest here because I need to be accountable to and for my life and myself and I have ducking that accountability by not owning that I am struggling. And that I am using and social media to distract myself from the painful knowledge I am going back to the Miidwest to say 'Good-bye.'

So, today is today.  I remember how delicious it is to wake up every day and be 100 percent present with myself, even when I'd rather forget.  Being this version of myself is a much better look for me, anyway...my body moving in sync with my heart and my mind, a trinity of protection and support of the spirit. Sympatico.  It doesn't make it less difficult to navigate the bayou of family politics and angst but it does make it easier to be in my own skin, to sit with my truths and get the shit done I need to get done, so I do more the fun things, like putting flowers up in my hair and climbing my favourite trees, especially the ones I haven't met yet.