Paying dues to the dirt...

So the irony of waking up.  From dust we came to new life.  I am so glad to feel safe from myself.  Sobriety is wicked cool and  terrifying too.  I figured I have been punished twenty years for being messed up with men, and to think, I could be spending five years in prison pondering my pain, and why God would let it be. I heard that Adam doesn't think I am being punished severely enough for texting him.  I know I was dramatic and traumatic in recovery, but why can't he just be happy that he helped me?  I think that is the devil messing with his head about me and what I fight.  I am lucky to be alive, I can't seem to take my own life no matter how bad it gets I am protected for some reason.  Like here for a reason, and I have hope that life is going to iron out.  And I am going to have a powerful recovery story to tell.  Its work.  And I asked God not to hand it to me, because he always did that for me, and of course I took it for granted.  So the last psychosis was a vision of losing everything, including my kids, sanity, and freedom.  Scary shit.


Its difficult not knowing if I am going to have another psychosis.  But I get up, take vitamins and an assortment of pills that say they care.  Go to the gym, and be greatful that today I feel fine.  Not blissfull or on a love cloud...but just fine.