Is it a noun or adjective? Shouldn’t I know this?
Isn’t writing my THING?
Recovery. It’s the thing I realized I am doing everyday.
Recovery. It describes this phase or the rest of my life.
I read this book, Captivating, by Stasi and John Eldridge. It’s really awesome. It’s a game changer. I needed it. I needed to find it at a friend’s garage sale. It was a magnetic force that led me to the book on CD. Seve verifies it. He tells me I have anger management issues. He says I need help. Help that’s he’s not able to administer. He feels verbally abused.
The word shock can’t even describe how I felt at that moment.
I wished I wasn’t this person that got angry and let my words fly. I wish I didn’t wield them like a knife to maim, kill, and destroy everything good in my life. I wish I didn’t exhibit this behavior that is so reminiscent of my mother.
There I said it. I’ve become the thing I hated the most. Now what? Now I duct tape my mouth shut and never let it out.
I have a place that I need to go to allow all this out. I need to write a book, a play, maybe. I need to act my aggression out. I need to act it out over and over and over again till it stops consuming my whole being. I need to get this down on paper before my body submits to the black hole in my stomach, It wants me… dead or alive.
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