It turns out I rather like drifting through my days. I have enough places to be that I don’t feel isolated, and while there’s some structure and routine built into it, I don’t feel like a slave to the calendar.
There are no hard deadlines, no deliverables pending, no one else’s job hanging in the balance. The universe is not depending on my participation. The world continues to spin without me, and I find this comforting. It will be okay if all I do today is my tai chi and my beads and some writing. It’s okay if the only thing I do today is putter around the house and ponder my dinner options. It’s okay if I want a nap.
Maybe it’s retirement, or maybe therapy is finally paying off and I’m actually making progress on this whole “recovery” thing, or maybe I’m just older and wiser. Whatever the case, it turns out that I am suddenly, inexplicably, somehow okay. More than okay, things are going exceptionally well. I’m not stressed. I’m not pacing the house at 3AM with panic attacks. I’m not having cravings for booze. I’m not pissed off all the time. There are moments when I’m actually happy.
For the first time in a long time -- maybe ever -- I feel okay. Better than that: I feel good. I feel stable. There must be some mistake. No deep regrets for my life choices? No existential dread? This can’t possibly be right. Can it?
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