Flashback to (for) Self-Care

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I can have a million thoughts and still remain too tired to write about them.

I often have to tell myself to remember the importance of self-care. Self-care, to me, means simply looking outside for my better self.

My better self wants to rest, finally sleep. I haven’t been able to and it’s killing me. I feel it in my speech, in my tone. I feel like I could disintegrate at any moment.

But I have to remind myself that I sticking to this plan to write every day to build the necessary discipline I need to move forward. Ciara loves structure everywhere else but in her life, it seems.

So I was looking in my archives to find something to share tonight that would exhibit when I didn’t give a damn about myself. I found something I wrote when I was desperate to be saved. From drinking, from destruction, from life.

Even after you are given a chance to do right, you often find yourself fighting the urge to work backwards. It’s easy to go back because you’ve been there before.

But for me, going back means something fatal. I can’t afford to. But the temptation is enough. Below you’ll read when the temptation was just enough.

I don’t ever plan on backsliding. I never do. I try to live my life within the boundaries of what the Bible teaches me. But I ain’t perfect. I curse a lot, for one.

I fall off of wagons. I topple them things clean over. Like I did on Friday. I be drankin’.

I know. The first thing I wrote on here is how I’m a recovering binge drinker. That is still true. The recovery stage is real, live and unfortunately uncut. I made a mistake, point blank.

I came home, sat on my bed, zoned out and wept. I know better. You never wanna upchuck 70 bucks worth of liquor but that’s what I did.

I went to church this morning feeling super fraudulent. I wanted to disappear but in a church so small, that’s hard to do. So I was quiet, worship didn’t even feel right. I felt like my panties were about to catch on fire. I felt like I was about to get punted by God to the twenty and get called for an illegal block in the back. I felt like everyone in the room was ready to jump me. Even though I know they love me on the legit.

I wanted to drink after that. But I took my ass (see, cursing) to thr grocery store, came home and cooked, watch the games with my landlords and now I’m sitting here writing this. Sober.

This is part of my attempt to write every day in July. You can follow the series here.

Memoirist in spirit and in truth. Christian essayist when both the spirit and truth move me. email: crjtwrites[at]gmail.com

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