Kiss5Tigers

The 5 Tigers represent the big things in life. This blog is about facing them.


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Waiting or Enabling?

I am trying to tell how much of this is my own fault.

I was going to give my daughter a ride to sell plasma today, and she was going to slip me $5 gas money. I put my last $20 in the gas tank, anticipating having that $5.

I went to a meeting and got out around noon. I did not have a message from my daughter with an address, so I checked into a book store to kill some time.

It’s all good. I copied some hat patterns out of some knitting and crochet books that I can’t afford to buy. It will make some variety in my 100 Hats Project. And I wrote some “morning pages” in my journal. I put it in quotes because, to be honest, I almost never write them in the morning. I drank a whole large water with ice. And I realized I was hungry.

I had tried several times to reach my daughter, waiting about an hour between attempts. The hunger eventually won out, and I texted her that I was going home.

Two hours after I got home, she texted me. She appears contrite. She did not ask for a ride. Which is good because I don’t have the gas to drive her and it was too late to sell blood for her to get gas money to give me.

It’s not very respectful of my time. I mean, I didn’t waste time, but I might have done something else if I’d known I wasn’t going to see her. I’m a little disappointed.

But more than that, I wonder if I”m a little too available. I wonder if I am excited to see her and she isn’t that interested in seeing me. I wonder if I”m preventing her from growing up and taking responsibility for herself. And if I’m wondering about it, the answer is probably yes.


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Love Cat and Better Days

My striped cat, Charli has been all over me today. You’d think I’d been gone for a week or something. (Sarcasm, since I was gone for a week.) She has been sitting where she can see me or touch me all day. When I am not petting her, she is patting me or even poking me with that one claw, usually in the side of the face, trying so hard to get my attention.

At the moment she is sleeping on the back of the sofa. That means I can take a minute to lean forward and type. She is sleeping so hard, just limp with her ribs rising and falling.

Black Momo and striped Charli, who doesn’t like the flash. Yeah I take bad photos

I ordered a recovery workbook called Better Days. It’s a different kind of workbook. First of all it’s rather thin. Then the exercises are maybe a half page of reading and 3 or 4 questions to answer. But I think it will be perfect for my Wednesday afternoon depression support group. We need something to keep us on track but we like to talk. This is more open ended than a lot of the other books have been.

The back page includes a link to a webpage called Punks In Recovery. They have a book about, guess what, punk rockers with mental illnesses or substance abuse issues called You’re┬áCrazy that looks pretty interesting. I might have to order it sometime in the future.

My roommate is making whipped cream by hand. It’s taking a long time. I can hear that he is getting tired because there is more time between the whisk hitting the side of the bowl. Longer and longer pauses. But it no longer sounds like it’s sloshing so it must be firming up.

I have letters to write and “morning” pages to get to. Supposedly they are written in the morning but I just can’t seem to focus early. I am a slow waker. I fall back to sleep without much effort. But I have Recovery International tomorrow at 10 am, so I’d better get up by 9 at the latest.

Then I am taking to car to the shop. When I picked up K at the airport the other day, the service engine light came on. I took the car for an oil change and had them run the diagnostics. I have cylinders misfiring and it looks like I have an emissions fail. Inspection is due in March so that emission problem is huge. But so is the cylinder problem. Though I’m hoping that’s mostly spark plugs not the pistons kind of thing.

Charli has woken up and is fussing for attention again, so I guess I’m done writing.