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?
     

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.

Program Slogans That Work

     Today I am struggling.  There is no shame in that.  There are going to be days like this.  It's important for me to understand a month of recovery only goes so far.  My life does not become perfect just because I've decided to get help.

      I've been using a few slogans to help me get through my days and disappointments such as the one I experienced today.  "Progress, not Perfection"  "It may not be okay, but it is okay to feel."  "I am enough".  As I try to convince myself that I am deserving of happiness and that life will get better, I'll leave you guys with some other helpful slogans.

ACA Slogans:

                ACA is Simple but it is Not Easy

                Live Beyond Mere Survival

                There is Another Way to Live

                One Day at a Time

                Easy Does It

                Keep it Simple

                Progress Not Perfection

                First Things First

                This Pain Too Shall Pass

                Let Go.  Let God.

                Keep Coming Back

                Name It, Don’t Blame It

                Ask for Help and Accept It

                Pray and Pray Harder

                Don’t Just Do Something.  Sit There.

                Be Still and Know.

                There is no Healing without Feeling

Copied from p.52 of Adult Children: Alcoholic/Dysfunctional Families (“The Big Red Book”).  Can be ordered here.