It Was My Choice.
Peace in the Chaos

Life Choices and Consequences


These days I'm haunted by my choices. The job is good. I work from 8-5:30 with a couple of outside breaks between, but as soon as supper is over and the dishes done, I'm back outside on the garden steps having the same conversation with the mountains. OK, it's not quite the same. We aren't negotiating for my life, but that damn mountain is lobbing grenades about one every thirty seconds.

That's a shit ton to keep up with and I'm having trouble sleeping. Truthfully, I'm sleep deprived and that's not sustainable. 

Legal substances don't work. I'm not even remotely interested (nor would I know how to acquire any) in illicit substances. Alcohol is off the table. Smokables and chewables are off the table. Both provide temporary relief but I'd have to be plastered to pass out and stay that way until daybreak.

I'm SERIOUSLY not interested in that sort of thing.

If I have a glass of wine, I've a momentary lull, but even that choice is dubious. I'd just rather not.

OTC sleep aids keep me up at night. Prescription sleep aids are nearly pointless. The best I can do is try to make peace. 

The mountain assault has no mercy but the things I need to look at come down to pretty much the same things:

  1. Abandonment
  2. Judgement

I'm clear. Choices I made, as with anyone else, are not only irreversible but couldn't have been any different given my circumstances. Contemplating my navel got old a long time ago so the work I do now has to be forward looking only. That translates directly to the choices I make today; the price, the payoff, the risk, the worth. 

The hardest bit is getting past what I think of myself. The break in the clouds is the idea that not only am I being too harsh with myself it's also pointless to sit in my own judgement. I know what I know which informs what I do going forward. If I sit in my own judgement I'll have more of the same in which case, what the hell is the point?


We are our choices, but we are not locked in the past unless we hold onto it. 


So here's what I've decided right now:

  1. Put a filter in place. Look forward and avoid the triggers.
  2. Make a list of the triggers and a commitment to the filter.
  3. Make a list of what I actually want and focus forward.

What I want is elusive. The path is so murky, the past so sticky, it's hard to identify a want past the desire to stay alive. Yeah, there's that. A look forward is the desire to be. A look backward is deciding whether I've still got a right to oxygen. I'm not sure how to resolve that but writing it down probably helps. I wrote it down. You read it. I've witnesses now.

The only constructive reason to look at the triggers is to be able to identify and name them. Mel says, Name it to Tame it. He also acknowledges the hokeyness of the statement but he's telling the truth. If I can do that, I can leave the detail behind and ask the chattering voices to have a seat. Read a book. Borrow my invisible friend. He's a figment and all he does in is lie beside me and hold my hand.

I'm skin starved and that's a bitch.

Back in 2015 when I came to my knees in the shower. Again. I told myself it would be far better to be alone than live in a relationship that dropped me to my knees on a regular basis. I'm still pretty clear about that but I couldn't have imagined the price I'd be paying long term. The cost still outweighs the loss but that doesn't mean I'm not feeling it. Finding a new relationship is off the table. I'd have more of the same and I'm pretty sure that would kill me. Letting a relationship find me is a more reasonable approach because I've noticed that I'm not approachable in my current state. I suppose I look toxic. Well, I am. When the danger sign goes away, maybe it will be time. 

Jack says, be a caterpillar. OK. But the butterfly bit is up to me. 

Butterflies are defined by environment. I'm pretty sure that hatching into the current environment will also produce more of the same.


The job is good. Where I'm unclear, there's this fake it 'til you make it business. I certainly know how to do that. I get on well with the team and I like the work. It pays well enough that I can see a way forward. The way 'forward' is determined by the openings I can make in the sky.

That's an appalling amount of metaphor but it's where I'm at. I don't suppose it's a bad platform to be standing on these days.


Right. Choices. I nearly missed that. I've got to filter the incoming information. That's more than just the chatter from the past and the current fallout. The fate of the world is not on my shoulders and I'm going to leave it to you. I trust you to pay attention. I trust you to do the necessary (I love that phrase). I trust you to pay attention, clean up your vision, make the right decisions, and act on them.

THAT'S a challenge. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I can't. After all, I've been carrying this stupid cross since I was six, maybe earlier. I can drop it on the ground but the only way to leave it there is to keep walking, stop looking, and accept that even in trust, the shit might hit the fan but it's just not on me at the moment.

I need a break. I deserve a break. The only way I'm getting a break is to take it. And fuck ya all if you can't accept that. I'd rather be alive and if you've got trouble accepting it, you'd rather I not. Shame on you.

Harsh? Don't think so. Not with all of the above. There are couple of you who are probably near apoplectic just now. Here, sit with my friend, Murphy. He's a nice guy.