I only have a buck of emotional money to spend each day…
They are the frequency holders, the butterfly riders, the forever people.
The signs we put up at first are right on the edges of those places of thought, right next to the addictions, those destinies of disaster.
Those same automatics that bring about relapses because of what I describe as that other definition of H.A.L.T., as half assed lazy thinking.
Conflict in all its forms has been in my thoughts these last few months. Brought forth not only from the ravages of a world out of tilt, but also by the inside ones that hide amongst everyday actions and thoughts.
Writing was always a form of therapy, typing the thoughts out often makes things clearer, I see where my mistakes were made, or where the juxtaposition of my thinking took a header off the cliff.
“but those 12 suggestions I followed on the walls of the rooms of AA have left me more capable than ever before to deal with this pandemic.”
So, with twenty drafts of the same story piling up, it is clear that that piece of the puzzle is just going to have to come into focus in a different manner. The size of the thoughts too large to fit through the doorway of a single post.
Fear is an awfully big wig, hard to manage, and usually leaves us looking more unkempt than we recognize.