I kept trying to defend myself with the fact that clearly, the most awesome person in the room was Lori, and clearly, she was with me. Suckas.

Water seeks its own level.

Totally valid defence. There have been times in my life when the way I fought off the Demons of Worthlessness were by shielding myself with thoughts of my friends, birds of a feather, and all that. I have been blessed with some superlatively amazing people as friends. Not just one or two who have made me a charity case out of the kindness of their hearts, but these people genuinely value me, and the contributions I make to their lives. Water seeks its own level - this statement is a truth, a mantra for me. It's true in so many ways. And one of the ways it is true, is that these amazing - lovely, passionate, compassionate, witty, brilliant, creative, amazing - people hang around me because there is something amazing about me. In the darkness, I can't see it or feel it, can't detect it myself, can't really believe it. But I can choose to think it is possible. I can choose to think maybe the amazing is there even if I can't detect it for myself. Some days, all I can do is force myself to admit that it's wrong to call these amazing people liars, or stupid, or crazy, for wanting to associate with me. No, I know they are wise, and in their right minds. So there must be something there. And this is a tiny glimmer of hope.

Water seeks its own level, Allyson. So yeah, you are with Lori, and the other amazing people in your life. And that is your true level.

There are a LOT of days when I still don't know how to deal with someone who treats me well, who treats me like I -- like we ALL -- deserve to be treated. Part of me is always vigilant, waiting for the other shoe to drop...

Recovery takes a whole lifetime. We do not have to be ruled by our kneejerk reactions, but it does not mean they will ever be completely eradicated. The automatic assessment of every man in my vacinity for their potential for violence is never going to stop running. And I can't stop myself from cringing momentarily when there is yelling. But I can stop myself from squeezing into closets or under furniture (well, ok, sometimes the furniture would stop me, even if I didn't).

We are all messed up. Still, I'm glad we can be messed up together.

::Nodding at WindSparrow::

Recovery isn't like sculpture, or music, or anything you start, struggle with, eventually find the key to, and then finish, with a sense of accomplishment and pride. Would that it were.

No, recovery is like verdamndt housework. You sweep, you make beds, you mop floors, you shine windows, you dust. But at no one point can you *stop* and say, "I'm done! It's perfect, I don't have to do any of that again."

Which, you know, sucks. I thought the getting to the ugly stuff and dragging it out to be looked at, examined, dealt with, meant putting it behind me and moving on.

Turns out, not so much. You have a good day, get some things done, feel validated, worthwhile, bask in the sun a little and there, scuttling at your feet is one of those ugly things, or a whole pack of them. Greying everything out and pulling all the warmth and light out of the day. But what can you do? You deal. That's just how it goes.

And the patches of light and air and feeling worthwhile get easier, and the patches of grey get farther apart, they do. But they don't go away. Or they haven't yet.

I'm bored. TCG is at a gig, that I am not at, because it will be smoky and my asthma has not been fun lately. My DVR is completely empty of fun things to watch, and I can't decide which book to read. It's totally a diamond shoe bored, but I'm still bored.

Tea:

I didn't mean to kill the thread. I decided to be productive and do laundry.

I'm reading and trying to put the kids to bed, sj. And hoping we don't get hit by a huge storm. There is thunder, though.

I hope the kids don't fight bedtime and that there is no huge storm. What are you reading? I finally settled on The Color of Magic, which I had started reading ages ago, misplaced, and then found again when we moved.

We're getting thunder here, but no rain yet. I watching Feasting on Asphalt and trying to motivate myself to chop up some onions and garlic so that I can make scrambled tofu tomorrow morning. (Anything that needs to be chopped for breakfast must be done the night before. I don't trust myself with a knife in the morning.)

I'm reading stuff for Drollerie. But I have have to go put Liv back down because I can hear her frolicking in the toilet in the upstairs bathroom.

Anything that needs to be chopped for breakfast must be done the night before. I don't trust myself with a knife in the morning.

This is a good rule. I'm awful at making breakfast in the morning. I tend to burn things because I'm not awake enough to pay close enough attention.

But I have have to go put Liv back down because I can hear her frolicking in the toilet in the upstairs bathroom.

Hee! Such a cute image, although maybe not for you.

Speaking of cute, Matilda is like a totally big girl now. Kids are growing right under my nose! This must stop!