Taking Care of Me

I've been through withdrawals. Trust me, I know what it's like for every cell of your body to ache for that chemical that you've been pumping into it for years on end, day after day, hour after hour.
I know the hunger of addiction.
I know the loneliness, the desperation, the hopelesness, and worst of all, the apathy.
It sucks you in, leaves room for no one and nothing else. Not even love, family, art...

I suppose that's why I get so frightened sometimes when I think about how I used to be...where I used to be...why I used to be there.
I never want to live that way again. I never want to be that person again and I sometimes wish I never had been her in the first place.

On the other hand, without those experiences, how could I be who I am today? How could I hold the empathy and passion for life that I now know? Could anyone who hasn't seen what I've seen possibly know what I know?
I've yet so much to learn in this life, and I hope that I remain open to learning each lesson as it comes.
It's been seven years now since I went to rehab for the third time in my life.
Yet for the past week, I've had almost every symptom of withdrawal I ever had in the first month of being clean, all those years ago.
I know it's completely psycho-somatic at this stage...but it's bothersome.
Such deep thoughts for a sun-shiny Sunday morning, I know...
See...this is what happens to me when it's been too long since I've had an outlet. I've not had the opportunity to paint or really write since I lost my job. I've kept myself busy cleaning house and baking cookies and doing school papers. Distractions.
Yesterday, I found myself in a bit of a funk. In talking it over with Wifester, I announced, " I think I'm just depressed..."
Eventually, I confessed " I just need to paint. I haven't painted in so long." To which she responded, " What's stopping you? Go paint! You'll feel so much better..."
Why haven't I painted? For one thing, I've blocked off access to my little painting area with piles of boxes of stuff to be yard saled, stuff to be taken to Goodwill, and other things that still need to be sorted through. Secondly, I seem to do that to myself when I feel not worthy doing what I enjoy the most. I take it away from myself.
I decided that it was worth my sanity to clear a pathway to my easel, and make use of it.
I started on this, I'm a bit undecided where this will end up going, but I like the way it has started...and I feel sooooo much better.
Funny how that works.