The Sun Shines, But It Doesn’t Shine On Me.



The Power of the (Clear) Mind

Wonderfully said. Sometimes the mind is trying to tell us something that we may not want are are not ready to hear. We try to smother it with substances or healthy hobbies. Though the drugs and alcohol carry their own additional dangers and consequences, in terms of emotional health the results are largely the same: we ignore it at our own peril.



The human mind is a powerful thing.  The mind blocked by the fog of drugs and alcohol lies dormant.  It sits alone, soaking in a brine like a pickle in a jar.  No amount of power can emenate from a pickled mind.  Substances pickle not just the brain – the supercomputer of the the human body – but the mind as well.  The mind is our soul.  The mind is our being.

I can use my mind to its full potential if I am sober.  My mind is clear and alert.  I see things and feel things that I would not if I let alcohol smother it.

I am not talking about being good at algebra and trigonometry.  I am not talking about memorizing vocabulary.  I am talking about using the power of the mind to create, communicate and perceive things that aren’t clear to the five human senses.  Mind…

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Day 26. Stormy Monday.

It is as stormy outside as it is in my mind. I miss Her so much. I miss Her so much. Yet I know that She will never want me but I cannoy stop thinking about Her. Every day something new reminds me of Her and I just stop in my tracks. I am stuck in the feedback loop that would make the main character in Groundhog Day run back to his vicious circle. What am I doing wrong? How do I make this torture stop?

There has got to be a better way than these constant anxiety attacks punctuated by the gut punching knots of pain and sorrow. At times, I get so worked up in this stress that my throat and chest muscles start hurting as if I had been attached to a wheel by my back and just rolled around.

I want to be able to enjoy the things I have always enjoyed but like the record player spinning an overly used vinyl, my mind’s needle keeps skipping a groove and just plays the old tune of loss over, and over, and over again. I desperately want to reach out and move the record player’s arm to the next groove, or better yet, a completely new song but I am waving my arms in the pitch black hoping to find a way out of this mess.

If only it were that easy.