The Wall.

by arianne

Well, I finally hit it. Over a year after the Autism diagnosis, and Charlie has started….dare I say…IMPROVING. I sat down three weeks ago to breathe, and haven’t gotten back up.

I need to pick myself up out of this Funk, dust off, and understand that what I resist will persist. When I resist WHAT IS, how am I changing anything? Only delaying the inevitable. Once I can accept all that has happened in the past, and what will continue every day for a while (he won’t wake up tomorrow and be cured!), perhaps things will finally become manageable. Really? I know these things logically, but I don’t even know if I believe myself.

My health, happiness and all other related warm fuzzie’s have run away from home (me). I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t want to hang around me either. But now I have to lure them back to me so I can MOVE ON. Turn the mother fucking page already! My only comfortable pair of shoes these days are the Victim shoes. They fit me quite well, but they are pathetic. Old. Tired. Don’t do anything for my figure.

The new shoes are going to hurt…the shoes of fitness, healthy eating, answering the phone, GETTING OUT OF BED. But after a while, getting dressed for the day will be a good thing, right? Right. That’s what happy, well-adjusted people do every day. Hell, even crazy people get out of bed and get dressed. It was either depression or alcoholism, so at least I picked the lesser of the evils, right?

Back to the new shoes. New shoes, while they do hurt, are usually really exciting. You don’t mind they hurt, because they make you feel so good about yourself when you wear them. After a while they fit perfectly and become the new favorite.

OK, turning page now…kinda.

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