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Los Angeles, California
I am 47 and thriving in Southern California. One day at a time.
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Thursday, November 17, 2011

two and a half men

my alarm went off at 7 am, and i cried.
i took that first sip of coffee, and i cried.

in group, i vomited up resenting meds and their side effects, and i cried.
r. said i was so inspiring and beautiful, and i cried.

i hobbled painfully to the gym, and i cried.
i modified to 6 mi. on the bike, and i cried.

i craved mind, body, spirit contact with my friends, and i cried.
oh, gifted chocolate, licorice, music contact from my friend, and i cried.

i feared to my therapist i may not have hit rock bottom, and i cried.
he told me how courageous i search, and i cried.

i agonized over that never try "first sip", and i cried.
friend, j, eyed me, then earnest, "if i saw you not crying, i'd be worried", and i cried.

i pulled a brush through frizzy, broken, thinned, unsexy hair, and i cried.
k. arrived all handsome and arrived, and i cried.

i noticed the return of the steroid gobble, and i cried.
k. firmed, "no offense, you are gorgeous", and i cried.

k. worried, "weird you come home the week before christmas", and i cried.
but, ah, he wants me to come home. and i cried.

then i sat down and watched the silliest, most slick, subversive sitcom. and i laughed, until i cried.

and cried.

and cried.

[dedicated to my rehab roomate, k. for introducing me to the hugely underrated comedy of one charlie sheen.]

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