Fear of Change

Dear Day 74,

What will you bring? I sit here at the dusk of my 73rd day, questioning whether or not I'll survive you. I suppose it's an exercise in divine trust to go to bed tonight and allow myself to wake up in your timeline.

Fog descends on the forest, as it often does inside my mind. Eventually, the sun will return to both.

Survival becomes a question for me when things begin to feel good. When I begin to feel sober, I feel clarity, gratitude, mindfulness, acceptance and joy. It's almost a threat. There's this part of me that wonders if the universe is just toying with me, dangling the promise of hope in front of my eyes just to rip it away the second I reach for it. Will you, day 74, be the one to take it away? 

In an effort to shield myself from your potential savagery, I am sitting in the darkness listening to Exit Music (For a Film). Radiohead, oh, how I've loved you. How wonderfully you've put music to my feelings. Jigsaw Falling Into Place was a song I used to play on repeat, screaming along and crying to Karma Police. I have avoided Radiohead like the damn plague lately because the fear is that I'll descend into madness, that psychosis will use these songs as a vessel to arrive beside me. I worry that if I am visited by the madness and if it knocks on my door, I might open it. How long can gratitude sustain me? How long can I keep up this facade? What the hell does recovery mean? Am I doing it right? How does this time differ from the times throughout the years that I've elected to "glow up" and upgrade my life according to the advice of social media influencers? Am I going to fall back down? I have a harder time believing that you'll show me the answers than assuming you'll burn my foundation to the ground. 

The funny thing is, I could pick up a drink tomorrow. I could rifle through my closet and locate the drugs I'm sitting on, my "just in case" stash, and I could get myself loaded. Perhaps you will offer me a harsh experience, maybe you'll be the worst day of my life. There is also a chance that the sun won't come out tomorrow. There's a chance I could be hit by a bus on my morning commute. I suppose anything is possible. No surprises. Ultimately, I am only in control of a small portion of the things I will experience in this lifetime. The question is whether or not I am willing to control those things or if I'll dedicate my days to futile attempts to control the things I can't. "The serenity to accept the things I cannot change," or what have you…

I miss feeling like I'm off my rocker. Isn't it ridiculous to miss your lowest moments and want to return to your darkest days? I know that it is, but I can't help myself. Day 74, a part of me is hoping you'll show up for me in this way. There's a part of me that longs to go back where it's comfortable, to halt the awakening and the idea of recovery, to shake off all of these things I've surrounded myself with in an attempt to be better. Sometimes, the foundation feels threatening, like it's taunting me, and I just want to burn it to the ground myself. I don't know who I am becoming; I used to have such certainty. It's terrifying to think I'm leaving behind the roads I mapped out for myself in my youth. I know well how to navigate misery. I know how to navigate insanity and rage. I'm practiced in the art of lighting things on fire. I've never learned how to walk slowly down a path of serenity. I'm scared, most of all, Day 74, that you'll ask me to feel at peace. 

Who am I if not an addict? A high school dropout without a prospect? A mess, a self-destructive maniac, a lost cause?  What kind of friend will I be if I learn to care for others instead of using them as a form of validation? Will I be enough? 

If I become it, if someday I embody the calmness and peace of the forests I walk through or the warmth of the sunshine instead of the flames of a raging fire, will I still be worthy? 

When I was 18, I wrote a song; the chorus went as follows. 

"My reality is jaded, 

And I don't think I can change it, 

Am I even worth saving anymore?" 

And the line that encapsulates my experience today: 

"Without the shade of trees, I'm just looking at bees, and the sun can't stop them from stinging me." 

If I allow the light in, will I be safe? Will I be protected? Will I still be worth saving? I am returning to the thoughts and feelings of my 18-year-old self. They are also the thoughts I had but couldn't name at 13, 14, 15, 16, 17... They're thoughts I have now. If I settle into the mundane and stop fighting a war that no longer exists in my mind, will I disintegrate into nothingness? Will I have nothing left to say? Will I become someone who I would've hated in the past? 

Day 74, I ask that you offer me grace. I am both confident and afraid, elated and depressed, manic and sound of mind, worried and serene, in control and out of it. I have feelings living under the surface that I'm scared to bury. I'm afraid I'll lose myself in recovery as I lost myself in escapism. I'm worried the good will come too fast. I beg you to give me the space to both feel and practice gratitude. Please give me the safety to surrender. 

I don't have the slightest idea what's coming for me, and I feel unguarded. I'm scared, but the fear is mellow now. In the beginning, it was active and loud, screaming and scratching at my insides, trying desperately to turn me inside out. Now, it sits there bubbling, waiting for my signal so that it can boil over. I must accept the simmering now, as it may never go away. I try to be grateful for the pieces of me that try tirelessly to protect me from harm. 

I will close with gratitude. Day 74, I look forward to meeting you. I hope you can be patient with me. I'm still not so good at making new friends. 

Love, 

Charlotte