Well, I've gone and done it. I saw a picture of my ex on the internet, looking at a new lady with twinkly and tender eyes. Andddddd. Ya know what. It's on me for lurking! I am on a need to know basis right now and I simply don't need to know. I'm not in a place to be knowing. This comes after last night, when I saw someone who used to be very important to me and ... he didn't acknowledge my presence. And I hadn't seen him in five years. Needless to say, my ego is bruised.
That being said, it's all the ego. Trying to let it go. Putting the damn phone down and focusing on studying, volunteering, creating. Just being.
First step - deleting all social media apps off my phone. I use them all for work since I ... work in marketing. But I wanna see if I can at least go a day or two. I mean, even like 12 hours will be good. I might just start deleting them when I get home at night so I don't suffer the endless scroll every night.
That being said. I want to share a passage from one of my favorite sobriety bloggers/humans/podcasters - Holly Glenn Whitaker aka Hip Sobriety. I feel like this sentiment is very real and honest, and I appreciate that she is considering the larger context ... of America, of privilege, of battling with addiction and showing up every day.
Here it is:
"I'm toast. Are you? Are you feeling like there isn't a point to some things? That things are impossible? I am. I'm scared and I'm tired and I want to stay here all day in this bed and keep crying.
This is, of course, countered with the knowledge that I've been privileged to live a life where the threats I feel today have been largely removed from my reality while so many of us have carried them for lives and generations. But that doesn't change the shock to the system. I'm already becoming desensitized to things that should make me scream. It's an odd thing, and odd time. I'm worried I'm not doing enough or listening enough.
I'm worried I'm seeing too much. I'm concerned my work will be lost in this. I'm worried that we'll give up hope.
There is a part of me that knows that this has to happen, a part that has known this would happen and that I would see great change in my life. And then there's the part of me that is now having to live through that uncertainty, that change.
I'm here for the long game. And to do that, here is what I'm going to do this week. I'm going to take a break for a minute knowing I'm not sticking my head in the sand but that rather I'm recalibrating. I'm going to go to yoga and keep going to yoga. I'm going to eat good food and drink lots of water. I'm going to volunteer at the local woman's shelter on Fridays. I'm going to keep showing up for my people. I'm going to remember that I'll make my difference through my life's work, which is in the addiction space, and that I was never promised it would be easy to do that. I'm going to cry when I need to cry, and laugh when I need to laugh, and scream when I need to scream. And more than anything, I'm going to keep believing in beautiful impossible things and keep a delirious faith that this is all heading somewhere. I know this is our burning and our rising, I know it's supposed to hurt, I know I just have to keep doing the next thing, and whether it's a bath, an email, a protest, a blog post, a smile, a meditation, a pity party, or a nap is the same so long as I keep showing up as I can. I'm a mess, but I'm still here, but I'm still moving forward."
And to lighten the mood - here are some tweets that sum up my creepy lurking. Ttyl y'all.