When You Lose Your Way…

To say that the past two weeks have kicked my butt in terms of recovery would be an understatement.
A severe one at that.

And what makes it so frustrating is that I feel like I have absolutely no reason to feel this way.
Overall, my life is pretty wonderful right now.
But yet this cloud of doubt lingers overhead.
And I can’t seem to shake it.

I feel like I made such wonderful progress with recovery and just life in general at camp.
I mean, you can’t beat celebrating 120 days of recovery and being filled with the Holy Spirit on the same night.

But there is just this feeling that’s been in the back of my mind that just won’t go away.

 

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I still can’t shake the images of the damage in Moore, Father’s Day coming up, or my very lifelike dream I had last week about checking myself in to a very specific treatment facility for my self harm, or a combination of all three.

 

The damage in Moore was absolutely breathtaking, and not in a good way. I had never seen such destruction in my life.
It literally looked like a war zone.
And these were places that I drove by all the time.
We drove by Briarwood Elementary School and my heart sunk.
The fact that every child and teacher walked out of that building alive is astonishing.
I can’t even begin to imagine what Plaza Towers looks like, and I don’t think I want to.
Seeing people literally digging through pile after pile of rubble to find whatever was left of their homes and lives can really shake a person up.
And almost three weeks later, I can’t shake those images.

Father’s Day.. well, I haven’t been too fond of that day in twelve years. But for some reason it’s hitting me especially hard this year. And I’m not too sure why. All I know is I’m beyond sick and tired of Father’s Day commercials. Thank you media for reminding me that I don’t have a dad anymore. As if I needed help with that.

 

And as far as that dream goes.. I don’t even know where to start.
It was such a random dream to have.
But it was so lifelike that when I woke up, I almost questioned where I was at for a brief moment.
I mean, this was a specific place, Timberline Knolls, which is a female only residential treatment facility.
This is the same facility that Demi Lovato checked into to address her eating disorder and self harm, so being a fan of hers, I’m obviously aware of it’s existence.
And now, I can’t shake off all of the “what ifs” and “should haves”.

“What if I’m not really recovering?”
“What if I’m not being intentional like I think I am?”
“Should I have checked myself into a treatment facility seven years ago?”
“Should I have checked myself into one last August?”

And well, you get the general idea.

I want to shake this feeling.
I don’t want to question every step of recovery that I’ve taken to this point.
I don’t want to relapse.

I want to reach the point to where I can’t remember how many days of recovery it is without looking at a calendar because it’s been that long.
I want to keep fighting.

But I am so incredibly tired.
And I really just want to walk away from all of this.
But for today, I’ll keep counting.

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