Moss and Mushrooms

With a light heart

A collection that is simple and fun. A collection about lighthearted joy.
No TWs.

1:57 AM rambles
My sponsor said I should raise my hand when they ask if anyone is willing to be a sponsor. I read in the big book that I can help someone in a way a nonaddict wouldn't be able to. I don't know if I'm ready. I think I am still finding what I have to offer. Still, I will do what he says like I always do, He told me I am thoughtful. He's not allowed to lie to me.
I read my old poems with my mom, the stories I kept hidden were relayed in an uneven voice to her at two AM. I read the titles of chapters from letters from sixteen and I felt like I was about to fall asleep. It is a hard time to sit with. I wasn't truthful and I didn't realize it, consumed my denial. I told lies I did and didn't believe. Funny isn't it?
Sometimes I am talking to someone and I realize these things over again. Of course I knew before, but sometimes it is more apparent.
I don't think I am unaccepted by those around me, I sure thought I was. They know I am trying. The bad things are being left behind and the mild moments of shame are seen as mere quirks. I took something literally, I misunderstood, I fidget quite a lot, I ramble on about the same things, life goes on.
I am not what I thought I was. You are not what I thought you were. I am sorry I said you didn't love me. I'm sorry I acted like you didn't love me. I am so glad you are here. I don't know what the truth of it all is, but I know some of what it is not.
I am able to know when I am thinking the wrong thoughts, at least more than I used to, but I am always seeing another way in which I am wrong. I don't have to tell myself those stories anymore.
My thoughts repeat themselves, the same stories over and over again. Poetry gives them a place to live, although sometimes they just need to be left on the curb.
I have been in a fog recently. Did I say that already? Sorry. I know you told me but I forgot. I promise I'm listening. I just need to write it down. I cannot recall it.
Things are colorful. I am elated. I am panicking. I am overwhelmed. I am excited. I am crying because I am happy. I can feel my heart beating in my chest.
I miss you. I sometimes wonder where you are. I hope you're okay. I tell myself not to think about it. I hope you're sober. I hope you're okay.
I feel like myself. I feel like I did when I was fifteen if I wasn't aching. I want to and I often have the energy to follow through. I brush my teeth. I change my clothes every day. I start new projects. I have ideas. There is more to write about besides feeling sick to my stomach.
I realize how many of the bruises I had were caused by my own fists. Isn't it a bit odd? I have poems to prove it. I thought things were different than I do now.

Write about how you define happiness
Happiness is writing lengthy diary entries about days like today, about the little big things, happiness is writing about how much fun I had with my friend and the things I bought at the thrift shop.
Happiness is the desire to work on my to-do list, happiness is doing things with ease, not struggling with doing the small things, not having to pull myself out of bed to do just enough until I can get back in it.
Happiness is more than feeling good, happiness is satisfaction with myself and the world around me, my happiness has not been found in a fleeting sense of elation.
Happiness is the sense that while yes I have lived in the rot I am not the rot, that I am worth sitting with, that I am more than my worst months.
Happiness is feeling like I do not have to hide myself, that I am allowed to flap my hands when I am excited and talk about silly things. I am allowed to wear heart shaped lockets and ramble.
Happiness is the sense that I have something ahead of me worth working for, that life can be a long Sunday, that I can be someone I love.
Happiness is realizing the heavy things were not the weight I perceived them to be, happiness is removing the red backpack full of bricks and understanding that I don't have to carry it with me.
Happiness is starting a project with no clue how many months until it is finished. Happiness is squeezing you when I hug you. Happiness is listening to my favorite songs over and over again.