I have a nasty cold, and I like it
When I made myself sick on booze, it was impossible for me to treat myself with any sort of kindness or compassion. The guilt was intense, and the pain was punishment for what I had done. I tried to quell the hangovers in desperation to destroy the evidence, to hide it from myself. I didn’t want to heal, I wanted to forget.
But this cold isn’t my fault. I caught it sober, and I’m suffering it sober. I’m resting, drinking tea, wrapping myself in a warm blanket. It feels really good to feel sorry for myself and believe I am deserving of comfort. After all the blame I’ve accepted, it is a relief to think I feel like crap, but this time I didn’t do it to myself.