The Overwhelming Overwhelmingness of It All Did Overwhelm
Ever have one of those weekends where you spend your time too overwhelmed to get off the couch? Yeah, me neither.
I'm such a liar. The above picture is of me this morning after I discovered that we were out of coffee cream.
After the entry I wrote on Friday night, "Loneliness, Sobriety, and My Conscious Life", I entered into a fairly heavy vulnerability hangover. The post took a lot out of me to write — envision pacing, talking out loud to myself, and questioning all my conclusions up to this point — but it proved to be a great relief once the work of it was done. I hadn't written about sobriety in a long time, and the act of writing out all those entangled thoughts pulled the tension out of me, confirmed my path, and let me sleep more deeply and well than I have in months.
Despite the relief, though, I was exhausted. I know I shouldn't store this stuff up inside me, but I am an habitual hoarder of negative emotions. I hoover them up like they're delicious, heartbreaking drama candy. Oh, look! I see a spot of shame! And there's some sadness! Yum! I think I need to make a regular practice of writing out all the emotions I hoard on a weekly basis. It would save me from spending an entire weekend, like this one, in recovery.
Back to that photo of me above. I knew I was still entirely overwhelmed when Aidan made coffee this morning and informed me that we would have to drink it black because we were out of cream. I grabbed my forehead and wailed "OH, NO. HOW DID WE LET THIS HAPPEN? DO WE EVEN KNOW HOW TO BE GROWNUPS? SUNDAY MORNINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ENJOYABLE." Even the cat at the end of the bed looked a bit incredulous.