Starting over at night

Posted on June 22, 2009

Today was interesting, to say the least. A couple things happened that are incredibly positive and healthy, and a couple things that are negative and icky. But I suppose that is the point of being alive, and experiencing feelings, to have the ups and downs. I just keep forgetting that this roller coaster can be ran backwards three times in one day.

Great morning, painting, writing, went to therapy and discussed my plans for the future. And not the immediate future, because that all seems somewhat tedious, but for the future future, like a year from now, 5 years from now, 10 years from now, its easy to speak of things so far away because it feels like I’m a kid again, dreaming of what I want to do when I grow up. When I grow up I want to go to college. Then I want to be a director. Then I want to get married and have a family. Well, I didn’t go that far, but the idea that it is an option is heartwarming, especially because marriage as a vow is not something I really believed in. Just didn’t think that one person could satisfy me for the rest of my life. I’m realizing this is based on a fear that no one person could love me for the rest of their life. At least now I have hope.

Went to yoga and had the deepest savasana ever. A trance like state, after all the gut wrenching introspective work I’ve been doing, that took me so far from the room I jolted upright, afraid that the class had started and I’d fallen asleep. I’ve been trying to put my finger on what images crossed my mind while meditating, but couldn’t. Which I suppose is better for right now. Psychman says that there are different juices running through our brains, and he relates it best using party terms, ones I am familiar with. There’s the drunk guy at the bar telling feel good stories, and that makes us feel nice and mellow, happy and cool. There’s the lovey dovey chick that hugs everybody in the room and loves every person there, and those are the opiate juices running through us. There’s the wild man, standing on the table, swinging his shirt over his head and chanting “Heavy Metal” and he’s the dopamine, just a little too wild. And then there’s the cops, the grabber’s (I think that’s what he called them I’ll have to check it out) and that juice comes into the party and tells everybody to chill out. Calm the fuck down, you guys are getting too wild. He said that yoga actually stimulates the production of this juice, helps to strengthen it like muscles. The more regularly you do yoga, the more popopolice you got to regulate your emotions. Although I don’t particularly care for the police, now that I don’t ride dirty, I have no reason to fear them. Interesting metaphor.

Mom called today, to tell me about a car lease option where they take it off your hands. I told her I’m already on it. She then repeated that it is something different, at which point I repeated “I’m already doing swapalease, they will have it released in 30-45 days, and if it takes longer than that, it takes longer. No point in stressing it.” She then started to talk about how she’s not drinking, and she decided she can do it all by herself. I said “good for you.” Not because I agree, personally, I think alcoholism isn’t something anybody can deal with on their own, but if that’s how she wants to get clean than that’s up to her. I just don’t want to deal with an angry dry drunk. Please forgive my brutal honesty, but that’s what she turns into when she doesn’t drink. Anger mixed with self-pity. Neither are emotions I can deal with right now as fresh in recovery as I am. I got off the phone with her as quickly as possible, kept my answers short, yes or no, and then an “I love you, see you soon.”

Later in the evening, I get a text from her talking about how “she just didn’t realize how friggin unhappy I was and she doesn’t know what to say ‘cept I love you.” I text her back.

“All I need you to say is I love you. I don’t need you to say how you didn’t realize how unhappy I was or how fucked up I got, just that you support me and still love me.”

Her response felt like a ton of bricks.

“I just always thought I had the perfect first baby and I guess the jokes on me.”

I said:

“Guilt trip, please stop.”

She responded something along these lines. “I was talking about my own feelings, not everything is about you.”

This whole conversation leaves me confused. Confused, hurt, angry, upset, and wanting more than anything to say fuck it. Dr. Drew calls it a “case of the fuck its,” where we just don’t care and actually throw our hands up saying “fuck it.” That is how I feel right now. She text me about how she didn’t realize etc…..meaning that if she had, something could have been different. She text me about how my fuck ups have been a big joke played on her, and it basically breaks her heart that I’m not the perfect first baby. Ouch. And then we are full circle, I am left without the fundamental support that I need from her, and she is telling me that it isn’t all about me. But as silly and arrogant as this sounds, my recovery IS all about me. I’m trying to figure out MY shit. And I can’t do that if she is guilt tripping me about her feeling like a failure. This is the shit that kills me inside. The things that make me want to drink. Or go out and not give a fuck. And I’m not going to drink, and I’m staying in with the dog and away from the men of earth that I could easily forget my pain with (for at least an hour). And in speaking with her, in trying to stick with a program of attraction rather than promotion, it’s not like I could tell her to do step work. And it’s not like she wants to see her part in anything either. She is perfectly happy miserable. I, on the other hand, am not.

I wasn’t that unhappy leading the life I led. The point is that I wasn’t really happy. I wasn’t living to my full potential. At no point did I feel as though I had created a meaningful existence, one that is worthwhile and worth living. It was okay, but I certainly didn’t wake up excited about the day. Didn’t feel like “OH YES!!! The sun is up again! What am I going to do today?” because I knew what I was going to do that day. The same thing I did every day. The same thing I did everyday for the past 8 monotonous years. Ro. Bot. No. Thanks.

Now I wake up and ask myself “Self? What shall we do today?” and then I start with coffee. The coffee is the only part of my day, besides this blog, that is like clockwork. At any given moment I am free to do whatever it is I like, whether it’s walking on Hollywood Blvd, going to yoga or therapy, or sitting in my home watching Law and Order season 5 on DVD. I can go job hunting if I choose, or paint and write till my hearts content. At night, the only thing that is like clockwork is this blog and the fact that I go to sleep sober. I’m in my pajamas, intentionally closing my eyes. And I like that. No, I LOVE that.

Some days are better than others. Some parts of the day are better than others as well. Thank god I’m learning that at any point in my day, I can just start over. Even if it’s at 10:51pm and I’m about to go to sleep.