So, I awoke today with some hope. It's Friday. I get to wear jeans to work. That always makes me feel better! I also got some news that made me chuckle some.
I got to work and realized I have my appetite back. My round of meds is up, so I guess the nausea side affect is over. I haven't eaten a full meal in over two weeks...and suddenly, my tummy could feel it! I spent lunch at Cock & Bull with Rob and Courtney. And more than the club wrap and fries, I enjoyed seeing the love that resides between them. They're both so giddy about one another. It's real. And it's undeniable. And it was reassuring. And so nice to be in their company.
Back to work and personal drama. And attempting to hash some things out, resolve inner turmoil, recover from some deep wounds.
And home after work to walk the pup, where I decided it was time to try the swim. I gathered my gear and headed down to Urban and the damn 20 m pool (wtf? seriously, why?). I took one of my scheduled swim workouts from earlier this week. Started out with a 600 wu. It took about 400 to start feeling ok in the water. I hadn't been in the water in over two weeks. Then, 4x200 on 3:00. I made the first three, and felt so spent. My energy is still waning. I skipped the next straight 800 and went for the 8x100 on 1:30. Yeah, I made two of those and called it a day. It sucked. I feel defeated. I'm starting back at one. Coach said not to worry about HR and just get the time in, but i can't even do that. This must be what it feels like to be a beginner. Can't say I like it much. But, this is where I am. I must accept this. What's the alternative?
So I dry off and drive home. I pass the Levee and see an old boyf walking along. He was a heroin addict that pawned my shit for dope. (Do I know how to pick 'em or what?!) Anyway, all that's gone and forgiven. All I really ever wanted was for him to get clean. And I had tried and tried and tried to help. Methadone clinics, detox centers, home detox, 12-step meetings....and it wasn't until I accepted the fact that I could not save him, now or ever, that I let go. It was sooo hard for me. But guess what? Yup! He got clean. So, he's shuffling along, shirt tucked in, smoking a cigarette with that familiar bored look on his face. I shout his name out my window. He looks around...and sees me...and the biggest, warmest smile crosses his face. It kinda made my day. There aren't any feelings there anymore, but it was so good to see him smile because for so long, all he had was despair. And all I wanted to see was that smile again.
Funny how I never seem to get the things I want at the time I want them.
See a pattern here?
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