I woke up perfect


Yes, in my dreams. It was this morning’s joke.

Of course we are all Divine and exquisite, but how often do we feel it?

I did a long interview with the Independent on Sunday today, all about alcoholism, drug addiction, recovery, rock bottom and life in reality.
It was fine, but the aftermath has been horrid. I have felt awful all afternoon. I suppose it is memories, thoughts and dreams all fighting to be heard, seen, remembered, and then there is the minutiae of life, every day, waking up and dealing with life as it throws down the gauntlet again, and again, and again.

I wake each day wishing I had it right, that I accepted myself, that I did not need to kick and fight against my reality again. But, like the delightful Groundhog Day, it comes back again and I get another go.

I feel the need for a very long, very cold walk to blow the cobwebs away.