I woke up at 4 am today. This was my first early morning sleepless episode in the past several weeks. (Which is kind of an amazing thing, when I think about it.)

Normally these episodes start at about 3 am, and I am kept awake by racing thoughts for at least 2 hours.

Today, as I rolled over at 4 am, I knew immediately upon glancing at the clock that I had to be up in 2 hours and 20 minutes and that my alarm would be going off in that amount of time. I also knew that I desperately NEEDED those 2 hours and 20 minutes of sleep, and probably for that very reason, sleep just would not come back to me.

So after about 20 minutes of fruitless lying there, trying to force myself back into slumber, I decided to just get up and start my day.

So I fixed myself a mug of hot water with a little apple cider vinegar in it and finally, FINALLY made myself do this “future self” meditation that I’ve been for some reason dreading and putting off doing since last week. And I read and absorbed a few positive messages that I’ve been having emailed to me every morning.

So, I mean, as mornings go, I felt like sh*t due to the lack of sleep, but I was basically killing it on meeting my own expectations for myself.

Hell, I even wrote a couple of futureme.org letters to myself (as recommended by my new support group) — one to be received in a couple of months from now, and one to be received one year from now. I’m not sure whether what I wrote met the spirit of the exercise, but I found myself leaning heavily on the “speaking kindly and compassionately to myself” principle throughout writing each of these letters, and even just the fact that I got them done at ALL, I am taking as a huge win for me.

I’m not sure why I was SO resistant to this exercise. But I guess… talking kindly to yourself… about a future you can barely imagine… a future that only recently even started showing a glimmer of a light in it… is a hugely uncomfortable task to tackle. So there’s that.

I’ve found that in the past week or so, I’ve been even MORE heavily drawn than I have in the past few months toward the idea of drinking, which has been extremely difficult to resist (read: I haven’t resisted very well at all… yet).

But I think something that was said tonight in group resonated with something I’ve believed for a while, which is that whenever you’re really, truly on the verge of making a breakthrough in your life, your subconscious… or whatever you call the “id” or that childlike or hidden part of you deep down inside that wants nothing but to be safe and loved but is probably lost and confused after all of the years of sh*t that its been through and can’t see the harm that’s being caused to your body by alcohol… when that part of you realizes that you’re on the verge of a real change and starts to wake up to the implications of the impending change… then… in absolute total and complete fucking terror (because change is fucking SCARY as fuck), it starts to wreak havoc on all of your good intentions, trying like hell to call back the status quo.

But! But…

When that happens, I’ve learned that I should take that as a GOOD thing.

Because it means, essentially, that I’m on the verge of a major breakthrough, on both conscious and subconscious levels. That’s the theory, anyway. So that’s what I’m going to take this period of time I’m going through now as.

It’s a remodeling period.

I want so badly to fall back on old thought patterns and start beating myself up for failure upon failure but… I’m not. This house is gonna look kinda janky and messy and destroyed for a while, and that’s okay, because things are being remodeled. Good things are happening.

Please excuse our dust.

For context on this post, and links to related journal entries from this particular piece of my life's journey, see My Sobriety Journey, Journaled.