I’ve lost my normal routine, and I can feel it.
There is something to be said for fixed meal times, scheduled days, and four consecutive hours of group therapy every day at the same time. It builds structure. It gives the mind something to hold onto. And for those of us whose minds have been bruised and bent by substance abuse, structure is not a small thing. It is part of the medicine.
I feel the absence of it now.
My mind is confused, and my body seems angry at me. I know I’m free, and I know I’m sober, but freedom has its own strange weight when the schedule disappears and the day is suddenly mine to figure out.
I think I have my Medicare physical activity benefit set up now, and if everything goes right, that should begin July 1. Being able to work out again will help. I can feel how much I need that. My body wants movement. My mind wants rhythm. My spirit wants something steady to lean on.
There is also something nagging me in the back of my mind this morning, like I’m supposed to be doing something today, but I can’t quite hear what it is saying. Maybe that’s just my old life rattling around. Maybe it’s my new life trying to get my attention.
But I do have a new place to live.
I have a bedroom with my things in it. I have a bathroom where I can shower. I have my trike. I have a roommate named Charlie, who is out Ubering right now. And I have a whole day in front of me.
So maybe the thing I’m supposed to do today is simple.
Get dressed. Get on the trike. Go somewhere. Move a little. Breathe a little. Let Biloxi start becoming home.

You can read this shared post. Only the owner can sign in to comment.