Buttercups and Bluebells

I read recovery literature written with drugs and alcohol in mind and switch words that specifically apply to substance abuse and replace them words pertaining to underearning so that I can reap the benefit of longtime wisdom with regard to recovery from addiction and apply it to my recovery from an addiction to underearning.

Having made the transpositions in today’s reading and considered them more deeply, I can see that I have continued toward “bottom” with regard to underearning issues, even as I was intermittently recovering from other manifestations of the disease. That being said I wonder how low I will have to go before I have the level of desperation required to make me grasp for recovery in this area like a drowning man reaches for a life preserver. I pray to God this is my bottom and I don’t have to suffer anymore. I am doing everything I can to recover. Underearning has ruined my life. Even the other things in my life that were bad and hard, would likely not have been as bad or as hard if I had not been underearning throughout. It has ruined relationships, stood in the way of my achieving my beautiful dreams, kept me from helping others which is my chief joy in life, made me depressed and suicidal, caused me to act out in rage, fueled my sex addiction, and negatively effected my health. If I do not throw myself headlong into this program and make recovery from underearning my primary purpose, I do not think I will be here in five years.

Am I now fully convinced that I fit the profile of an underearner? If nothing had before, I reckon the incident incident at Starbucks is all the convincing I need. I would not have done that if I had not just come from looking at that shitty apartment where the bitchy little landlord rep treated me like I’d be doing them a favor to rent that piece of shit apartment.

A word about the sexual compulsivity part of this thing– if I had not gone immediately to act out sexually (right across the street) after assaulting that poor bastard making coffee for a living, I would not now be on record with the NYPD as having “harassed” someone. I would have been long-gone from the neighborhood. But self medicating my extreme level of distress after “the incident” usurped any prudence.

When the NYPD cops questioned me– I don’t want to talk about this anymore right now. I’ll tell y’all the complete story. I’m just not ready to right now. After I left Chelsea and headed back toward the place where I was staying. Aboard the Staten Island Ferry I thought of Spaulding Grey, wondered if the boat I was riding was perhaps the one from which he leapt to his death.

Today was my first day back in Alabama. My goal is to return to New York in a month with more money and a better plan for finding a place to live. Today was actually a good day. I was afraid I’d be totally freaked out and beat myself up for not finding a place in New York before time and money ran out. But again, today was pretty awesome. I washed clothes, went to work out in Birmingham, and went to Cracker Barrel and WalMart with Mom. Then we went for pedicures that she paid for. Judge away. It’s also nice to be back sleeping on my Temperpedic mattress and pillows. And of course, it’s great to be with my four-legged children again. Tomorrow, I have Jacob, the young man I hired last summer to help me with the yard, coming to help me clean up the RV and get it ready to sell. I went out and looked at my truck and motorcycle today. I thought about selling them. I really don’t want to though. I want to have them for the rest of my life. We’ll see. Maybe I won’t have to sell them. I sent one of the oil paintings to New York. My intention was to have it appraised (which of course I did not do). I really don’t want to sell it either, maybe that’s why I drug my feet on the appraisal thing. It’s still an option I’m keeping open. It really depends on how much I could get for it.

Hey, you know what? My eyes are burning. I need to do a few more wrist exercises and go to sleep. I’ve lit the Better Homes and Gardens brand Buttercups & Bluebells candle Mom bought me at WalMart today. (One of the gayest sentences I’ve ever written.) The hope is that the pleasant smell will ward off any PTSD dreams.

See y’all tomorrow.

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