My mom got a goat, and I spent a glorious day over there last Thursday preparing her chicken coop for winter. I may or may not have stopped numerous times to cuddle said goat. Just between you and me, I think this goat loves me best of all.
I have tried and tried to finish the post that I was talking about in the comments on my last post. The post about how I came to name myself Sarah when I first started writing and posting online. I am in such a funk; the post sits as an unfinished document on my desktop. If I can’t get the flow of something after this many days I need to wait. I’m sorry. I really do appreciate all of the nice comments I received on my last post.
Cork , who is a man I met online over ten years ago, has never been anything but supportive of my efforts. Even though we have never met in person I consider him a friend. He is an incredible writer; I wish that I could link to him here, but I don’t think he has a website up at the moment. Last year he suggested that I try to do two simple nice things for myself everyday. I did for awhile, and then I got caught up in the hell of working graveyard and struggling with my guilt over sleeping during the day and being a sub-par mother to two kids who really needed me. I am going back to his advice now. I will seek at least two moments of bliss for myself each day. If bliss seems like a bit of a stretch I’ll settle for a little flicker of joy. If you would like to join in, please do so. If you would post your moments in the comments I would love it. We can do this together if you’d like. I already have my visits to my mom’s goat. The photo above was taken with my phone, so it’s not great, but she’s a sweetie. I asked Alex if we could get a goat but he didn’t like that idea that much. He was initially resistant to getting a dog too, but he changed his mind and got me Maggie. She makes me happy everyday.
I have been open here before about my drug addiction and alcoholism, so I feel comfortable sharing my morning here. I got up to my alarm (yuck) got the kids up and off to school, pulled on some sweats and took the dog for a walk without brushing my hair, came back and made coffee and checked the status of the dough I’d mixed up last night before I went to bed and peeked at the sticky buns I baked off last night to see how many were missing (three) and surveyed the house to see which chore I should tackle first. I was standing in the kitchen when it occurred to me: I hadn’t thought about getting high. It’s usually right there, first thing in the morning, that craving to numb myself. Just last night Nathan and Polly got into an argument and I was trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated further and in my struggle to stay calm when I really just wanted to tell both of them to shut the fuck up and to go to their rooms I kept thinking, “I need a drink.” Instead I finished mixing the dough recipe I am trying for the first time (it requires an overnight sit) pulled the sticky buns from the oven and glazed them, and kept my cool. But I wanted a drink, a scotch, to be specific, a big one, a whole bottle. Instead I tried to breathe slowly in and out and I went to bed soon after. Sober.
This morning is the first in decades where I didn’t wake up with that hunger for drugs and that realization is my moment of bliss number one for today. What was yours?