Alone

     Well I've managed to finally accomplish my dream.  I did it.  I got into medical school.  It was the best feeling in my life and even two months later reminds me that I am better than I think I am, and that I am enough.
     However, I may be enough and accomplished, but I am also very alone.  Much of it is my own doing.  I didn't have the same energy and zeal when it came to investing in my friendships.  I came to find that when I stopped this investment, I received little in turn, very little.  And somehow in the time that has past I have forgotten how to be a friend, not that I didn't struggle with this before, but now I find it very difficult to be a part of the group.
     I know the holidays always give me bit of a complex, and this year is certainly no exception.  Everyone is talking about their family and friends and loves and I'm over here wondering why I bother.  As much as I would like to think that I am strong, I have been weak.  Too open about my pain.  Ain't no one have time for that.
     It's a difficult thing to take on the world by your lonesome.  But I don't think I know how to even let anyone back into my world.  Good thing no one is knocking at my door.  Haha, even if anyone tried they would have to get through ten inches of pure steel for me to even notice the efforts.
     My job had taken regular ACA meeting from me, and now I am too scared to go back.  Maybe I need to go back to the online chat rooms.  The thoughts that ravage my mind are debilitating and perhaps can only be quelled with gentle introspection and caring hands.  Just like before.
     There is always hope.  I know when I'm at my lowest there is my Higher Power, but in the chill of a winter night, sometimes it simply doesn't feel like enough.  Still...I suppose we have to keep trying.  I mean what else can we do?
     

The Slippery Slope Downwards

It's been a while hasn't it?

In that time I have stopped attending ACA meetings, devoted myself to my EMT job, and cut ties with nearly all my non-EMS friends.

I am such a patchwork of emotions and ideas that it seems like a miracle that I can continue to function.  I think it's only due to my prolific stubbornness that I manage.

What does it mean to be a friend?  I'm not sure I know anymore.  I don't know if I am expecting too much or I'm not fighting hard enough to be treated like I think I should.  The problem is though my idea of fighting is actually giving up.  Easy than conflict, no?

I am so completely focused on my goal of getting into medical school that I have thrown everything else by the wayside.  I am being completely selfish and it feels extremely off putting, but the sad realization is that my singular focus is producing results.  I'm going to get into medical school this application cycle and it's all because I'm not wasting my energies on anything else.

Inside, I am so amazingly empty.  Numb has become my choice of feeling.  Alone is now how I spend my time.

Clearly I am not capable of having relationships beyond the superficial, minus the one or two I retain through the common tie of EMS.  If I wasn't stuck with me I wouldn't bother either.  God, that reeks of self pity, and while I am an expert on the subject I do know I need to give it up.  But it's hard when I've lost not even just friends, but my feelings.

You can't get hurt if you don't feel right?  Easy peezy.

I might write further once I'm done with the MCAT next week.  Writing has always been there for me and it never fails to respond to my pleas.  But we'll see.

Later then.

Intermission

Obviously I have been away from this blog for a long while.  I needed some distance and frankly my self esteem had me questioning that anyone would want to read my posts.  In the between though I have made great strides in my personal recovery.  My six month birthday in Al-Anon was last month and that was such a wonderful accomplishment.  I do have much to say about that and others things, but for now I will say that I am back and eager to get into the thick of things.  


Thank you all for sticking with me, here and outside the confines of this blog. 

A Difference Between ACoAs and Non-ACoAs

     A friend of mine was talking about a problem in his house.  The faucets outside his house were not hooked up to any pipes inside.  He wanted the faucets in order to use a hose to water things on his lawn.  If I was in his situation I would probably just carry buckets of water out each time I needed to water something.  But he wanted to get a plumber and actually fix the problem.        

     That’s when I discovered a key difference between ACAs and Non-ACAs.  ACoAs are maintainers, while Non-ACoAs are fixers.  I can’t tell you how many times I have shirked off the extra work it would take to fix something, to instead maintain.  I will either ignore the problem or I will find ways of keeping whatever it is working, but not put the effort in to fix the problem.  I would say to myself as long as it continues to work, then I don’t need to fix it.  This attitude applies to all aspects of my life.  The most obvious and important being how I have maintained my emotional health until I joined Al-Anon.

     I knew I was broken, that something wasn’t right in the way I thought of myself.  So I found small “patches”.  I wrapped tape around the leaking pipe that was my life, and hoped the tape would hold.  Sometimes these “patches” would be immersing myself in school, convinced if I did all the work that I would somehow feel accomplished, better.  Sometimes it meant I would never turn down a request for help, because helping people makes me feel good and again I thought I could take the gratitude and ease my inner turmoil. 

     And when these “patches” wouldn’t work, I would seek an escape.  I would focus on everything and anything if it didn’t mean I had to be in my head.  The big problem though was even if the “fixes” did work they were short-lived.  Something would happen and the tape would give way, the leak gradually increasing, my mental stability slipping away.

     I would pray desperately for enough strength to make it through.  Because that’s all I wanted.  To make it through without the dam bursting, without breaking down.  I am not proud of the ways I found to prevent the breakdowns, but they worked, and sometimes they were the only thing that did work.  I was not content to simply maintain, but I didn’t think I could be fixed.  Perpetually broken.

     Then I started Al-Anon.  For the first time I am finally trying to fix and not maintain.  I’m not using escapes as often or using unsavory “patches” to keep myself going.  I’m confronting my feelings, not pushing them down.  I’m standing up for myself more, and not letting myself get pushed around.  No longer am I adding patch after patch.  Now, piece by piece I am replacing the old pipe (my old way of thinking) with brand new solid and shiny copper pipe.

Relapse and Recovery

     Someone said to me in a meeting once that recovery is three steps forward, two steps back.  I definitely agree.  Last month things came to a head with the accumulation of a few rough months with a rejection.  I was hurt and depressed.  I kept everyone at arms length, because I felt even if I let them in that they couldn’t help me.  I wanted to, but didn’t trust them to help.

     Of course then I got angry when I felt people weren’t helping me enough…after I pushed them away.  I spent a two weeks absolutely miserable and then gradually things started to get better.  I started to let people in slowly.  I started to figure out that even if they couldn’t fix my problems they could at least sit with me and listen to me.  I had to battle my own guilt.  I felt guilty for falling apart, for shutting people out and not being a better friend.  I felt guilty for both wanting to be helped and guilty for wanting people to listen to me.

      I struggled with the numbness taking over me.  I mean it makes sense doesn’t it?  It’s easier to be numb than feel pain or hurt.  But I’ve lived a great chunk of my life being numb and I don’t want that anymore.  I want to feel, the good and the bad.

     Yesterday I chaired (led) my meeting.   Afterward I was showered with compliments and called a “natural chair”.  I shrugged off the compliments, because I still don’t feel deserving of good words.  But then a senior member complimented me on all the progress I’ve made in two months.  He also complimented me on the strength of my desire to work the program and get better.  These two compliments I didn’t shrug off.

      It is hard to see what progress you’ve made in the program, particularly after a relapse such as mine.  But the group, it notices.  The senior member’s words meant the absolute world to me.  Combining the great meeting with great friends and that night I actually felt happy, like a normal person might.  That moment solidified the idea that I am making progress.  Also now that I’ve had a taste of true happiness, I think I’m addicted. 

     It’s hard but the program works.  Three steps forward, two steps back, but it works.  All I have left to say is thank God for ACA and Al-Anon.

Flashes

     I walk briskly down the sidewalk, my small Al-Anon book in my right hand.  I throw the book out into the street.  Step after step, moving in time with the music pounding through my headphones.  I stop and I launch my fist against the nearest tree, feeling the rough bark scrap against my tender knuckles. Finally I reach my destination, my Al-Anon meeting.  I yell and scream out, my screams drowned out by the rush hour traffic.

     Inside I find that I am early.  “How was your week?” my Al-Anon friend asks.  “Good,” I reply.  “It’s been good.”  I see the Al-Anon table and overturn it in a rage. I head to the bathroom and wipe off some errant tears from my eyes.  I can’t stand the person looking back at me.  I smash the mirror and watch the pieces fall and sparkle.  I look down at the shards.  I return to the meeting room and grab myself a cup of soda, and settle into my favorite chair in the circle.  I clench my fist tightly around my cup, soda erupting up and down my hand, my arm.  

     The meeting starts and I find my focus goes to tracing the patterns in my jeans with my eyes.  I grab the empty chair next to me and hurl it against the far wall. I sit with my arms and legs crossed.  I find a point on my jeans and focus on it until my vision turns black.  Though my eyes remain unfocused, my ears follow each word that is said.   I rip out books out of the bookshelves and then pull the shelves down.  They crash to the ground resoundingly.  I can feel their eyes on me, pondering why I won’t look at anyone, why my face is emotionless, why I haven’t shared yet.  I stand up quickly, pushing my chair back behind me.  I run out the door, and keep running, and when I can’t run anymore I walk, and when I can’t walk anymore I sit.  I stare up into the night sky and pray for peace.  After the meeting I grab my book, stand up and leave quietly.

Entry from Courage to Change

     “Al-Anon has helped me realize that no one readily knows what is in his heart, mind, and soul.  I can’t expect my needs to be met unless I first explain what those needs are.  Nor can I expect any one person to meet all those needs, even if I make them clear.  If the first person I ask for help is unable to provide it, I can ask someone else.  This takes the pressure off all of us.

     Before I began my Al-Anon recovery, I expected those closest to me to know what I was feeling without my telling them.  When I was angry and wanted to argue, I silently fumed.  When I was hurt and wanted comfort, I pouted.  When I wanted attention, I talked non-stop.  I couldn’t understand why I rarely got the responses I expected!

     I no longer expect anyone to read my mind.  I also accept that I can’t read the mind of a loved one.  Today I treat the people in my life with more respect because I am learning to ask for what I need and to encourage others to do the same.”

-Courage to Change, p. 66

     Easier said than done, but I'm working on it little by little.  Last night I casually talked about Al-Anon and going to meetings with one of my new friends.  It reminded me that coming out with my ACA story doesn't have to be this momentous event with tears and lots of feelings.  Sometimes it can just be a conversation.