Thursday, March 15, 2018

Mad dreaming

I woke angry from mad dreaming and stomped around ranting until logic Mikey pulled me up and made me do things like let all the chickens out, bigs and smalls, into the garden and throw them chunks of a corn cob.

I sat and used CBT mindfulness to be aware of my present surrounds, my breathing and the sounds of food-blissed clucking.

My mood stabilised. This week off is supposed to be about not thinking about past or future. I didn't mean to lapse; the rip cord was pulled and engine roaring the moment I awoke.

But I took steps to salve that wound and get back to even temperament.

Pre-injury Mikey is never coming back but I don't want him back. My injury set me free from self-hate and even at the height of the deepest of anxiety attacks that bedrock of recognition of worth gained from it cannot be shaken or broke.

I mattered; everything else is gravy.


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