I am not a morning person. I am the type to set three alarms and sleep through them all. I am usually gracing my workplace just shy of way-too-late. Still, there is something magical that happens for me in those first few moments of consciousness. There is a personal and spiritual luminescence, a complete sense of clarity. I no longer roll out of the bed in a complete fog, no matter what the hour. I am more in touch with my feelings and my wisdom when I first open my eyes than I am all day. Today was no different.
Last night was a difficult one for me. I experienced an acute rush of heartache. When the ache started in, squeezing my throat closed and pushing me forward into a puddle of hysterics, I lost, for a moment (okay, maybe an hour, maybe even a little more), any sense of groundedness. I hadn’t yet, in my sobriety, felt quite so low. Still, my former self would have sunk quickly into self-loathing, or self-harm, or into a bottle. Anything to drown out the pain. This time, despite the racking, I somehow stayed afloat. In all my years of numbing, it was, honestly, good to know that I can truly feel. Good to know that I have come to a point in my life in which I can authentically withstand emotional discomfort.