I think I may blog daily. I find this freeform spewage lightens the burden on my shoulders. Read it or don't, makes me feel better either way.
Today I had a better day. I still cried most of the day, which actually started yesterday, and finally stopped after I got out of my therapist's office. My therapist is wonderful and I am so grateful for that. I felt better just sitting on her couch bawling, because I know that when I'm there, I'm safe to feel any damned way I want to. Mostly we talked about my son and his ongoing heroin addiction while I cried nonstop. When I left I said I look forward to a time when his addiction is not the focus of our discussion.
Work was better today too. Yesterday I was sort of made to feel stupid - and yes I realize it's my choice to let others do that - but overnight I thought of a diplomatic way to handle the situation so it didn't turn into a bitchfest. So I handled it with some grace instead of raw emotion, and you know what, that was empowering. I am a tiny bit proud of myself for mulling it over instead of acting on impulse. I guess old dogs can sometimes learn a new trick.
I almost blew off work today but I finally managed to rally and drag myself through the sh*tstorm of major city traffic. Also grateful that I did, because I helped a lot of people at work today, and it made me feel needed. I still have zero social skills but feeling like a necessary piece of my organization gave me a rare sense of belonging. I liked that feeling a lot. I really do love my job and even though I have had some not-perfect days, I'm quite grateful for it. Traffic bites every day but I live in a huge city, so it can't be avoided.
As I write this, I am parked across the street from my house to watch for my son gathering his things from my front porch. He's threatened to **** me three times now, because I was involved in keeping him away from his daughter. I love him, but he's MIA while this hideous beast of addiction has him captive. I long for my son back whole, the man he could be, will be, once this horrid beast lets go and is finally damned back to hell. Yet even as I am saddened by this continuing nightmare, I find myself grateful that I have again (and for the last time) found the courage to say enough.
So even though I've not eaten a regular meal in days, and my head and heart ache as per normal, I found a scrap of peacefulness in the gratitudes I discovered throughout my weary day. God and I are still at odds right now and I'm still plenty irate with his (perceived as such) indifference to my plight. But my therapist says he's a big guy and he can handle my cursing his designs. And I can live with that, today.