Back in college, in 2004 when blogging was hardly even a thing yet, I was here. Blogging before blogging meant anything to anyone. You can look in the archives for my past writings, but it was much more like a journal in the past. When we started fundraising, I messed around with the idea of launching something new for this new phase of our journey but actually hated that idea. I am a sum of all of my life and so much of it is here already. So I'm keeping it here. At least for now.

My main focus these days is blogging about our newest journey into the bizarre and wonderful world of gestational surrogacy. Posts dated 2013 and forward will trend heavily toward that journey. I don't promise everything I write will be about though. There might be other things that sneak in occasionally.

Please come along our journey with us. As the saying goes, "The more, the merrier!"

Monday, October 24, 2005

Recovery

The definition of recovery according to the Webster's New World Dictionary:

n.
  1. the act or an instance of recovering; specif.,
a) a regaining of something lost or stolen
b) return to health, consciousness, etc.
c) a regaining of balance, control, composure, etc.
d) a retrieval of a capsule, nose cone, etc. after a spaceflight or launch
e)the removal of valuable substances from waste material, byproducts, etc.

2. Sports a return to a
position of guard, readiness, etc. , as after a lunge in fencing or a stroke in rowing

3. a process of attempting to change dysfunctional behavior, as by abstaining from an addictive substance.


I'm not ready to row boats or fence. And if I had to wager, I'd go against any space flights in the next twenty to sixty years. I think the valuable substances in me have been removed and the waste is being flushed out by the gallons of water I'm being forced to drink. However, my balance is still a little off and my head is very clogged. But the days that were stolen from me were only so in part. I am reclaiming, with strength from rest, whatever I felt I lost. No longer am I slave to my blankets, pillows, and the flatness I required but a few days ago. I blithely report that sitting no longer brings pain. As for the dysfunctional behavior, that is a process which will require lifetimes - I fear it is the very substance to which I am addicted.

I am simply me. Learning to live unashamed. I am on the gravel path to recovery.

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