Drinking was an avoidance. An avoidance of what exactly? Life? Facing myself? Facing today? The present?
I have been supremely adept at avoidance. Pushing something away. Not facing something actually is far more exhausting and requires more energy than facing it. The avoidance thingy is draining and I am tired. Enough is enough is enough.
I’ll get round to it.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
I can’t think about it now.
I’m too tired.
It’s too late.
It’s too much.
Not now. Later.
Habits are easy. Once an excuse is spoken or thought it becomes easier the second, third and fourth time. It rolls off the tongue, it glides through. It appears easier not to. On approach it is waved away. Like a small child interrupting adults talking. Soon it knows it’s not welcome. It lingers but behind closed doors. Lurking. There but not really truly present. More of an essence. A residue.
In limbo now. I am no longer drinking. I have no desire to go back to drinking again. A small white lie. I had a thought yesterday. Of what if? The thought was there. How big or small it was is irrelevant. It was there. And now it is no longer there.
I am aware of this avoidance that I have veiled over myself. The cape is see-through. It has slipped down to my shoulders. It pins me still.
Drinking is behind me. The present is in front of me, it is around me, it is here, but I still feel frozen with fear. Fear of what exactly? I have no idea. The fear of stupidity? Of failure? Of success? Of boredom? Of nothingness? Of repetition? Of feeling? Of letting go? Of control? Lack of control? The unknown?
Control. A fear of a lack of control? Is that it?
Does that boil down to ego?
I have no ambition. Never had. I used to think that was a minus. Now I see it as a plus. I had no self confidence. No self esteem. Now I have some. I used to feel guilt, paranoia and perfection. I have managed to shake them off. Anxiety lets itself in still. It comes hand in hand with depression sometimes. They are a pair who have a key. I asked for it back but it fell on deaf ears. I changed to locks. But we are in a heatwave and I need to let in fresh air. Sometimes they creep in an open window. Tonight they are bothering someone else. I am alone with my fear.
The present is now. I am here. I am showing up. I am present. Now what?