It's Saturday, a holiday weekend. It started off perfect with me going to Philadelphia for the first night of the Philly Fringe Festival. I got to enjoy a show and had the rest of the night to devour Rita's water Ice, and anything else I chose to get my hands on. I made plans to hang out with an older friend I use to use drugs with a long time ago forgetting that's how we met. He blew me off to find drugs and I realized that the next time I remember something like that maybe I ought to ask if the person is still using before continuing the conversation.
I'm back in New York City listening to the cars pass by on the highway people heading to Manhattan for a night of fun with their friends and partying the night away. And I sit alone in my white box I call home isolating myself from the world when I know it's a dangerous and unhealthy thing to do and still all the strength it would take to get up and go to a meeting or to a yoga class seems so daunting that I make every rationalization why it's ok to spend the day in bed getting up for food every once in awhile.
It would be ok if I really didn't wish I was out there with my friends living it up, or at the barbecue ten blocks away that I blew off for my self pity party. I feel myself slipping almost every other week, and some how I manage to pull myself back up, not with out pain and sweat!
The thing is when I'm doing the work, going to yoga going to meetings hanging out with loved ones and focusing on my needs I feel so good, and happy and sad, now I just feel sad. I think some goodness and happiness is a better way to live than just sadness alone. OI!
Anyway, I'm isolating. this is the point. It's not good. But it sure is Easy. I just have to remind myself that If i want the joy I've got to do the work.
peace
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