Sitting here thinking I should blog. Not really feeling like I have anything to say that's of interest. Same old, same old.

Sigh.

So I'll start with someone else's sad story: who knew? As with everything, this is good and bad news. The good news: there's that new record. And he's getting help promptly. The bad news: he needs it, in the first place. I was really shocked to see that those rumors were true. Not disappointed in him, just sad. It's a hard road, and crap, I've walked it. I walk it every day. When things go wrong, sobriety can slip out of your hands like water. Hell, and he had everything going right, too; but that's when things get even trickier. "Oh, I can handle it," and "maybe I was wrong in thinking that I had a problem. I'm doing so well."

Yeah. I know how that goes. I haven't slipped in a long time, but being dry and being emotionally sober are two different things. I think I've needed to be more emotionally sober for a long while. Pay more attention to what's going on underneath, and whether or not I'm living right.

Of course, you can live right all you want and still get kicked in the ass. That's one thing they fail to mention in AA; being sober doesn't mean you get what you want or what's fair. It just means you get to live more fully and lessen your chances of your life being a disaster. What comes at you is still going to come at you, regardless. That's just life.

Unfortunately.

Like why all this crap had to happen at once, I have no clue. It's like a pile-up on a highway. Everything backs up at once. According to all available sources, I'm dealing with it well. I'm "detaching with love" (Tony), and I'm "handling my grief"( Griffin) and I'm "being honest about my limitations and reassessing my life and priorities as well as can be expected" ( my job).

Never mind that I feel like I've been hit by a truck.

But I guess I don't get out of that one. I'm trying to work on my meds right now, and it's not going well. I feel less depressed, but I also feel like the side effects ( like feeling like I have a head full of cotton) are a bitch, too. I was in the car driving to Ron and Roy's this weekend and I had a little epiphany: I can tweak all the meds I want, and still I have to walk it through. Feel the feelings, have the grief. That's the part of depression, and of life, you can't medicate away.

Which, I guess, is what Our Boy is learning all over again in rehab. Illegal/verboten or prescribed and taken properly, the lesson is the same: walk your path untill it doesn't hurt anymore, but stay on it. Nobody gets to cut through the side of the road.

Isn't that the god's-honest.