Reality

  My new life has a few new healthy habits  and a lot of the old shit that I’d hoped to shed. Little things like making my bed into a couch every morning as the water heats up for my shower, 100%.   The walking is settling down but still at least 4-5 times a week, ‘twill do.  The writing has faltered;  it’s hard writing when I feel I have nothing to say.    One prompt I’ve thought of is write to my great grandchild. What would I like her to know about me?    Perhaps that may lubricate the flow but I still need to overcome my resistance.  I see Adam, busy busy Adam somehow defending the boundaries of his writing time.     I wonder if a class would help but I don’t like writing for others approval 

The reality is that having shed a lifetime of belongings and moving into a completely different world,   here I still am.   I’m still the me who watches tv and compulsively eats  late at night.  I am indeed feeling bored and restless but fear it could slide into just doing the minimal comfort and falling back asleep.  

David is struggling with kratom, weed and his addictive nature    It breaks my heart but there’s not much I can do but be present for him    That doesn’t stop my unsolicited advise    “I wouldn’t have to be so bossy if you’d just DO what I said”    Yeah that’s me  despite knowing better 

So  this is my reality   This and all the shit in the world, Trumps destruction and the climate’s looming disasters     Moving was no magic bullet    I need to do “the next right thing” each day and see if I can find a new path emerging under my feet