Maybe that's the reason why this works for some so well, finding that the biggest mountain to climb is the one that crawls so deep.
Because I cannot fathom a moment in life when I didn't have him there with a call, his voice carrying that of four men, his hands another knuckle in size.
That left me trying to piece together and scout around at what was left over, the foundational pieces of who I am. I found the pieces that I could change, that didn't hold weight any longer, and those that never did.
What happened felt like I was taking a long run at a moving train in hopes I could tackle it and derail the thinking that had rutted my tracks so deeply.
What also ran into all of this was a realization that there is no there, that I've been looking for.
Those reminders of the basics, and letting what you know now set in for a bit, make a bed, stay a night or two, are imperative to remember.
It is a practice in acceptance, a discovery of more tolerance, and a space clearing exercise that helps in these confined times.
to throw them at the wall like spaghetti to see if they'll stick. Almost a character study in a vampire's life, there's nothing looking back at me when I check the mirror.
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.