Love and Kisses

Checking out of the Motel 6 felt exactly right this morning, a splurge on one night at a nice place tonight, into the woods tomorrow. Not sure what I'll do next week. I want to save money but I ain't going back to the Motel 6, that is for sure. Five nights was enough. 

I woke up and was instantly furiously angry, for reasons that are not clear. This has been happening randomly over the past couple of months, and sometimes I know exactly what I am pissed about and other times I do not. The main practice has been to just be fucking angry and not try to talk myself down, but also to avoid acting it out or blaming anyone. I do find that meditation practice, which I have not been doing for a couple weeks, often uncovers a sadness that feels infinite and inconsolable underneath the anger. Not always, but often. Maybe I'll meditate later today at my nice room at the Guadalupe Inn (the honeymoon suite, which for some reason was on sale for one night only- myself and I on our muy romantical honeymoon, and maybe I will romance myself). 

I not only feel angry but also feel archly cynical and bitter. Sometimes the bitterness and anger are all balled up into one state, but, in this case, the bitterness is separate. It is probably the bilious side effect of heartbreak—all romantics meet the same fate someday and all that—but I am feeling like really romantic love can go fuck itself. I ought to be careful, since this feeling in the past has been a precursor to falling in love again. haha. The thought truly, actually horrifies and nauseates me. Not a good sign. I saw some couples last night as I was out walking around Santa Fe and the bilious mood of snarling dark humor grew and grew. 




Be that as it may, I'm not in love again (but still, and yeah I guess there's anger about that), and that's nice. Pleasant. Fucking hot goddamned fucking bullshit. 

I am attempting to ground myself today by working on job applications. This is the biggest single challenge in my life right now, since honestly I just feel like a 100% impostor, liar, incompetent loser fit to work at Allsup's the rest of my life, a failure and a fake. It's extremely difficult to get that emotion-opposite-action going, of crafting my vita, promoting myself, emphasizing the positive, and putting myself out there. I do find it to be helpful afterwards, but the passage is excruciating. It's so exhausting, actually, that I can only manage about an hour to 90 mins of it at a time and then I feel like I want to just sleep for weeks. 

Dude, not only are you a fraud, your jeans don't fit and you have no ass

The other thing I'm doing posthaste is getting myself to a meeting, whether AA or CoDA. It looks like the Santa Fe sangha of Refuge Recovery is still Refuge Recovery, and I won't go to a meeting of an organization founded by a rapist, so that's out. 

Tonight: my favorite private tub at Ten Thousand Waves, sushi for dinner, and tomorrow, a 90 minute massage. Much needed self care. Maybe these activities will take the acidulous and angsty clouds of bile away. A guy can hope.