somehow, my "funny" pictures have turned more to sad, but really cute pictures. i like them, though :(
before i go into...whatever i'm writing about tonight (i didn't really have anything in mind, actually), i'd like to share my dad's blog with you. his entry is about a gift i gave him 7 years ago. it might not mean much to you guys, but it meant a lot to me, so i'm posting it :)
he also posted this story that was 17 years ago, but i guess my dad had the flu really disgustingly bad one year. he apparently had completely convinced himself that he was going to die and was scared out of his mind. so, one day, he was taking a nap on the couch, and he woke up to me sitting on the floor next to him holding his hand. now, obviously, i don't remember this. i was only 4. but it reminded me how much he really does mean to me. he always has, despite all the rough times we've been through. and i will continue holding his hand when he feels like he's not going to make it. and, when i can't, he has his Travel Buddy ;)
tonight, a new girl joined the IOP group. her name is gina and she's the first person i've met in treatment that had felt the "click" that i did. i forget if i had mentioned this in any past post or not, but every doctor i've spoken to about full recovery has told me that, whenever their patients fully recover, they always speak of something "clicking" where they just suddenly decide... they're done. it's over, and they're walking away. and i've HAD that click... but i had yet to meet any other patients that had as well.
and, tonight, i met gina. and i've finally met someone who's really on my level, and it was so refreshing to see someone else where i was. don't get me wrong - i love my group in a way i could never describe, but it really becomes difficult to hear how people are struggling so frantically and are having urges and using behaviors and i... well, i have no urges. and my life is going exactly how it's supposed to. and even when i'm upset or frustrated or sad about something, i'm still doing great. and at least a part of me still feels great. and i wish recovery was one of those things that i could take everyone with me. i wish they could all be where i am. but i guess... i did my time. and they'll have to learn the things i've learned on their own and in their own way.
it's just so difficult to watch people you care about so much struggle so hard to get through every day in their life. that fight hurts to watch. i can't even imagine what it's like to watch it when you haven't felt what it takes to fight like hell to keep your head above water. and it's a difficult thing for me to not let myself feel guilty what i've put the people i care about through. i do feel a little guilty. but it doesn't matter anymore, i suppose. and that's something i'll have to deal with on my own. that guilt isn't worth it. i've done all my fighting, and all i can do now is try to rebuild that trust i've lost with people who have watched me discharge from treatment programs 5 times now. how will you know this will be my last time? well... just watch me.
before i go into...whatever i'm writing about tonight (i didn't really have anything in mind, actually), i'd like to share my dad's blog with you. his entry is about a gift i gave him 7 years ago. it might not mean much to you guys, but it meant a lot to me, so i'm posting it :)
he also posted this story that was 17 years ago, but i guess my dad had the flu really disgustingly bad one year. he apparently had completely convinced himself that he was going to die and was scared out of his mind. so, one day, he was taking a nap on the couch, and he woke up to me sitting on the floor next to him holding his hand. now, obviously, i don't remember this. i was only 4. but it reminded me how much he really does mean to me. he always has, despite all the rough times we've been through. and i will continue holding his hand when he feels like he's not going to make it. and, when i can't, he has his Travel Buddy ;)
tonight, a new girl joined the IOP group. her name is gina and she's the first person i've met in treatment that had felt the "click" that i did. i forget if i had mentioned this in any past post or not, but every doctor i've spoken to about full recovery has told me that, whenever their patients fully recover, they always speak of something "clicking" where they just suddenly decide... they're done. it's over, and they're walking away. and i've HAD that click... but i had yet to meet any other patients that had as well.
and, tonight, i met gina. and i've finally met someone who's really on my level, and it was so refreshing to see someone else where i was. don't get me wrong - i love my group in a way i could never describe, but it really becomes difficult to hear how people are struggling so frantically and are having urges and using behaviors and i... well, i have no urges. and my life is going exactly how it's supposed to. and even when i'm upset or frustrated or sad about something, i'm still doing great. and at least a part of me still feels great. and i wish recovery was one of those things that i could take everyone with me. i wish they could all be where i am. but i guess... i did my time. and they'll have to learn the things i've learned on their own and in their own way.
it's just so difficult to watch people you care about so much struggle so hard to get through every day in their life. that fight hurts to watch. i can't even imagine what it's like to watch it when you haven't felt what it takes to fight like hell to keep your head above water. and it's a difficult thing for me to not let myself feel guilty what i've put the people i care about through. i do feel a little guilty. but it doesn't matter anymore, i suppose. and that's something i'll have to deal with on my own. that guilt isn't worth it. i've done all my fighting, and all i can do now is try to rebuild that trust i've lost with people who have watched me discharge from treatment programs 5 times now. how will you know this will be my last time? well... just watch me.
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