“Perfection Adjacent”

Lawd. Have. Mercy.

It’s over.

Thank you Margieville, for the incredible and succinct description of my statistically insignificant completion. I don’t know if I’ve squeaked by with a B- (you brilliant thing you!) but I have most likely passed. And right now, that is all that matters. Never before have I  let those words escape me, and releasing them from my mouth, vocal cords, lungs, heart, oh it all feels so sweet and deathly and frightening and wonderful. Perfection adjacent. Right next to it. So close. But not it. Sigh….Ahhhh… not it.

All I would have needed to pass the course sans curve was a 70% on this final. I got 65%. Each question was worth 5%. I was one question away from doing it without the curve. ONE DAMN QUESTION! Adjacent from the perfection that equals passing a course without a curve. But apparently, curves are implemented with purpose, and this was to ensure that the majority of the class passed. So, leaving it to fate and the mean and standard deviation of our combined scores, I have passed this fucking Statistics class. And I am grateful like a mofo.

Especially because in the past 96 hours, my obsessive, compulsive, completely powerlessness over my character defect that is perfectionism has shone so brightly that at times, I have been ashamed to call myself a woman in recovery.

How many times can one press the refresh button on her grades page and not be deemed clinically nutso (which as a psych major, I know is not the clinical definition)? I’m not writing this from a psych ward so perhaps I didn’t reach that magic number. But I came close. Checking grades at 2:00am, like my professor has nothing better to do in the middle of the night than post my grades. Now obsessively checking my email for the curve. Gah. The horror. The horror.

The horror of needing/wanting/dying to know exactly how everything will play out long before the play button has been pressed.

I try to give it to my HP. But then I take it back and press refresh once more. The insatiable desire for power. Obsessing is so easy. Letting go, so difficult.

My friend Seth Binzer is in a coma. Very very sad. Unfortunately, I find myself not as surprised as I’d like to be/say I am. I suppose after using for so long, and being close to so many addicts that have died (Mike Starr’s death just rounding a year as well), I am more surprised when we become healthy. When we are happy, sober and free of the burden of addiction. Such a shame that it has come to this. My hope is that he will become responsive, recover, and then be fully willing to participate in his recovery. My instincts tell me it’s time to start mourning. My thoughts and prayers are with his family, ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, and especially, his sweet children.

Spring break started yesterday, so I ate cookie dough straight from the bowl, watched back-to-back Law and Order and Intervention episodes until I felt like throwing up. I thought about doing it again today, but raw egg is “not good for my belly” (says Mr. Man) and so I cooked most of it and poured myself a big glass of milk. It is a great day, even though it is laced with the sadness of impending loss. And every morning I am blessed to open my eyes and participate in this life is a great morning. A great day. A beautiful day. A sober day.

Tagged: awake, death, ending, hurt, life, love, memories, prepared, recovery, school, therapy

Posted in: Beautiful Days, Good Days, Recovery Days