9 Years of Recovery!!!!!!
But today, I realize I'm really beginning to be me. I texted my Mom last night, for example, excited that James from American Idol was playing with Judas Priest. Specifically, Living after Midnight and Breaking the Law. Now a couple of years ago I couldn't see myself doing that for fear of getting disapproval. It's okay to be different, she loves me no less. She may not like the fact that I can sing the songs word for word, but I've come to realize that regardless of that, I'm still her son, she still loves me unconditionally, and should I say it again, it's okay to be different! If this sounds like codependency that I've been dealing with, it is, but my addictive behavior and codependency were intertwined. First I had to work on recovery from addiction, then came the codependency. After all, you have to have a sound mind, an unaltered mind, to work on the other. My opinion, I know, but hey I'm allowed my opinion.
The fact is I revel in my artistic role. A bit of a rebel, I've always wanted long hair and I have that now. I like my bandana's, I listen to a wide variety of music, from Christian to Enya to Heavy Metal, and I no longer feel that I have to apologize for the music I like. I've been sketching alot more and I've expanded my reading horizon. I'm on a kick of reading about the bands I use to follow so closely. It was as if before I had to have approval that hey this is okay, or this is okay, instead of seeking God myself and making my own decisions and giving myself the opportunity to make mistakes. Yes, I've read books and about a third of the way through and then thrown them away.
So I know I'm kind of all over the place with this post, chalk it up to the squirrels in my head and too many nuts for them. But that brings me to my next point, I'm goofy. Who cares if anyone gets it, it's okay to have fun and let my hair down so to speak. Of course Ginger gets it and laughs hysterically at how random I can be. For example, why can't carrots be yellow and banana's orange? Don't think too hard on it, just a moment of randomness that gets a chuckle from the one I love.
Anyway, I woke up this morning and Ginger said happy birthday your 9! Mom texted me to tell me how proud her and Dad were of me today. Those things mean so much, the acknowledgement of yet another milestone. In perspective, however, even though I have nine years, I'll wake up tomorrow and I'll face tomorrow because it is still, and always will be, one day at a time...