Day 138: Showers (4.1.2011)

~Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labour to overcome the clouds that loads 'em~ Thomas Otway

April brought showers of tears.  It was one of the toughest months of my life.  I wanted the instant gratification of feeling nothing.  Anything was better than experiencing pain, rejection, hurt, disappointment, sadness, fear, anger and all those other horrible feelings associated with divorce.  To my dismay at times, sobriety continually forces feelings to surface; no more drowning sorrows in a glass of alcohol mixed with temporary euphoria.   

That Friday, I arrived early at work for an 8:00 meeting.  I'm a huge non-fan of early mornings especially when these involve meetings.  Luckily, I work with some people who make me laugh, so it makes it a little more tolerable.  After work, I headed to the gym for personal training.  I've never been injured seriously until my car accident, so training through an injury is tough and frustrating.  It takes a lot of patience as I build back my mobility, but unfortunately, patience is not one of my strengths.  I'm glad training is only a half an hour.  I followed up the session with an hour on the joint-friendly elliptical machine. 

Afterwards, I went to Starbucks on Excelsior and Grand and blogged. I started experimenting with teas as I attempted to reduce my hazelnut latte consumption, so I ordered a lovely, sweet and spicy, vanilla rooibos tea.  After writing for an hour or so, I felt ambitious.  I went back to they gym and ran for 35 minutes and burned 250 calories.  As another replacement for coffee and lattes, I had been indulging in more hot cocoas with whip cream, so I figured that I'd burn off one.  I'm not sure why I have a fixation for milk-based coffee and cocoa products.  I haven't had a plain glass of milk since about 8 years old since I don't care for the taste.  I have an espresso machine that I rarely used because I think warming milk on my own seems gross, but for some reason, it tastes wonderful when a barista makes it.    

I began to feel like isolating again.  After the second visit to the gym, I went to Spyhouse and wrote some more.  I also saw the first rat that I had ever seen in the city. It was probably 5-15 pounds. I watched someone take a picture.  I needed another break from blogging, but the only thing open besides a bar, was a grocery store.  One of my favorite nerdy, but comforting things to do now is spend hours walking through the grocery aisles.  It's a great escape to get lost in admiration of all the creative products and ingredients.  I especially love doing this when it's not crowded, so a Friday night is ideal. 

I headed over to one of my new favorite places; Whole Foods.  Their produce section is a feast for the eyes with so many bright, fresh colors.  I went there one time when they had run out of green peppers and I found it refreshing that they didn't have a big stockpile in back.  I also respect their new animal welfare rating system which ensures animals are raised in a safe and healthy environment with no genetic engineering.  I spent a couple hours there buying items for smoothies and soup. I started the month with a renewed commitment to control my eating and weight as my emotions began to feel out of control. 

PS Welcome Japan, Greece, Netherlands, Ukraine, Syria, Algeria, Philippines and Latvia!

Day 136: Green Acres (3.30.11)

~I love the fast lane~ Eva Gabor 

In a couple months, I'll be trading in fast-paced city life for up north country living.  I told my therapist that night how I'm excited to drive a tractor around this summer.  She bursted out laughing and called me Zsa Zsa as she couldn't picture me mowing the lawn.  I learned that it was actually Eva who starred in Green Acres, but little does my therapist know, I'm nerdily competitive when it comes to winning the "nicest lawn in the neighborhood" award.  I love doing yard work and getting dirty.  In Minnie, we have a limited opportunity to be outside and a short growing season, so we have to take full advantage from May to October.  I used to garden and landscape at my old house every year.  Once the snow thawed, I was out planting flowers in pots and all around the yard.  I find it incredibly relaxing and satisfying watching stuff grow and flourish.

I'll soon be house sitting for my best friend's family for a while.  It's a beautiful country home with 4 bedrooms, 4 baths and a 4 car garage.  A porch wraps around the house and leads to a screened in section to escape the onslaught of pesky mosquitoes.  I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch like an old lady and writing while watching the sunset.  It also overlooks a couple of ponds nearby and a farm across the street.  My best friend's husband calls it Old McDonald's Farm to their toddler son's delight.  It's on a corner lot with a variety of trees all around and lots of privacy on a few acres of land.  I can't wait to lie in the grass and tan amongst the neighborhood frogs, birds, ducks, deer and other creatures.

I also started my final 6-week outpatient treatment program and was down to just one night a week on Wednesdays for a couple hours.  The counselor who led this group also administered my chemical dependency assessment in November, so things had come full circle.  There were 4 men and 1 woman in the group.  Everyone was nice, but none of the guys were very attractive which was probably good as there would  be no distractions.  On break, one of them introduced himself and proceeded to tell me all about his successful businesses and this and that.  I was like "can your penis be any smaller," but of course, I refrained from saying that out loud.  He was a pudgy man with insecurity issues, but I had to give him credit for finding sobriety.  We all have issues no matter how successful we think we are.  Overall, I didn't feel the instant connection with group members that I had in previous treatment groups. 

That night, we talked about slowing down while we established our newly sober lives.  It was a good reminder because at times, treatment has felt like a holding pattern rather than a launching pad back to life.  I felt selfish about focusing all this time on myself and less on others.  I wanted to get back to my old life of being busy with friends, sports, work, etc.  However, my counselor cautioned that if we become too distracted and overwhelmed prior to building a solid foundation, we were more vulnerable to relapse.  I've found that early sobriety is very fragile and can easily be crushed quickly if not protected and carefully handled.  I definitely didn't want to go back to rehab and risk losing everything again.  She emphasized the importance of creating a lifestyle that supports sobriety and maintaining a firm commitment to healing before recklessly throttling back into the fast lane. 

Day 135: Mistakes (3.29.11)

~If you're not making mistakes, you're not taking risks, and that means you're not going anywhere.  The key is to make mistakes faster than the competition, so you have more changes to learn and win~ John W Holt Jr

Everyone makes mistakes, but I didn't want to be like everyone else.  I worked very hard before to make my life easy.  I just wanted to be happy.  I never wanted to struggle or feel pain.  I tried never to make mistakes or piss anyone off who I cared about.  I kept a lot of my opinions to myself and agreed most of the time with everyone because I wanted everyone to like me.  As a result, I didn't experience a lot of personal growth or intimacy with people.  I felt stuck and resentful because I didn't know how to properly communicate what I needed.  I didn't feel in control of my life.  I numbed to avoid conflict, struggle and pain which was like putting a band-aid over an infected wound.  

Earlier in the day on Tuesday, I received my annual job review.  I think I took it well as I prepared myself to not be defensive or argumentative.  Sometimes success is how you handle yourself whether you're winning or losing.  It was a fair assessment and one that I had anticipated.  It was a good lesson on how your personal life can impact your career and vice versa.  It was time to  move on.  It could have been worse.  I could have been fired and in this economy and with my dependence on  health insurance at the moment, that would've been detrimental.  Glad it's over and blessed to have a second chance.  I think everyone deserves one in most circumstances and now I can either choose success or failure. 

PS Hi to new readers in Iran, Israel, Italy, Columbia, France, Russia and Mexico!

Day 134: Reliving (3.28.11)

Writing, I think, is not apart from living.  Writing is a kind of double living.  The writer experiences everything twice.  Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind ~ Catherine Drinker Bowen

Life and the weather have been a bit nicer in recent days, so it's difficult to go inside and revisit the last couple months.  However, writing is a process that helps me let go and gain insight.  It's beneficial to analyze the last couple months now that I'm outside of the cloudiness.  I never knew the trauma of divorce until I went through it myself.  It's so commonplace in our society that growing up, I thought little of it if a relative or friend's parents got divorced.  In recent years, I've heard it described multiple times as like a death and that analogy best defines my experience as well.  During this tumultuous journey, there's been excruciating physical, emotional and spiritual pain.  Even though, I believe, it was the right decision for me, I have nothing good to say about divorce.  It was heart-wrenching. 

On that Monday, I weighed myself and gained a couple pounds.  Unfortunately, I knew it wasn't muscle.  My "drug" of choice became sugar; cookies, candy, hot cocoa and lattes.  Ugh!  I was determined to start a cleanse or 21 day fast again.  My allergies were also bad that weekend or it could've been a cold or even a combo.  I was stressed out while gathering information for pretrial and the anger towards my ex continued to fester.  That day, I talked to lawyer #1 for my divorce and lawyer #2 for my car accident.  I don't think I ever talked to a single lawyer my whole entire life and now, I'm working with two.  Over the weekend, multiple people called out of the blue; my best friend from high school, another friend from high school, a friend from treatment and my auntie.  God doesn't allow me to isolate for too long and I appreciated the nudges He gave people to call or write me when I was feeling extremely low.  I was also very grateful to my friends and auntie who provided comfort while I experienced this chaos.  I was trying my best not to numb this time around while dealing with immense grief and loss from the death of a marriage. 

Day 132: Coma (3.26.11)

~Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before~ Edgar Allan Poe

I mentioned to my financial planner the other day that even though I've lost almost everything, I felt happier now.  He sounded enthusiastic about my learnings because as he had told me before "money is just money" and doesn't make people happy.  However, life's stresses still existed and I was entering the darkest period of my recovery.  I started to feel very burdened and distraught by the realities of my upcoming divorce, potential bankruptcy and heavy workload.  My feelings of high stress manifested in my eating and drinking again, but this time, my beverages of choice were lattes and coffee. 

One of my counselors said to me at graduation on Thursday that "connections help you stay sober."  It was a piece of advice that I'll remember forever as it seemed to be one of the only long-term "cures" for addiction.  Most people had relapsed when they lost touch with their support network of friends, family, AA, etc.  After group that night, I gave a gal a ride home who had lost her license.  She was new to the group and we had a good chat about our journeys.  She asked me about my experiences at  River Ridge and I'm always happy to share that info.  When I got back to my place, I got a call from another gal from group.  She was checking herself into The House in a few days and wanted to know more about it and what to bring. 

She had children and was heartbroken and scared to leave them.  I tried to encourage her and tell her that treatment was the best thing for herself and her kids.  She deserved to be healthy and her kids deserved to have a healthy mother.  I told her to bring her own pillow and blanket to remind her of home.  When I returned home from treatment, these items comfortingly reminded me of The House.  I let her know she could also bring books because cable, internet and personal electronic items were not allowed.  She said that petrified her because it was impossible for her to  sleep without TV or radio noise.  I could definitely relate because one of the worst places to be when you're struggling with life is surrounded by silence.  In that space, negative voices, thoughts and memories are overwhelming and deafening.  External noise and commotion drowned out internal dysfunction for me.  As I dealt with all the broken pieces of my life though, I experienced more peace; inside and outside. 

On Friday night, my personal trainer said that she liked being able to fit a lot of different exercises into a half an hour with me.  In turn, I liked that it made the time go by fast.  I usually start out happy at training and then pain interrupts, and I become less talkative.  She laughs because she'll ask how I'm doing and I'll answer with one word; either good or tired.  It's kind of a joke now.  I feel irritated by the pain and I can't hold a conversation when I'm out of breath.  I think that's why I prefer to workout alone. 

After training, I headed to BFE which means it's more than 20 minutes outside of the city.  Of course, I got lost and what should have been a half an hour trek ended up being about a hour and a half.  I've been staying out of bars for the most part while in treatment, but since it was my friend's birthday, I wanted to be there. I hadn't slept very well the last couple days, so I was planning on a short night anyway.  I said hi to my friends and caught up with another gal who I hadn't seen in a while.  I'm not as self-conscious about ordering non-alcoholic drinks anymore.  It used to be a huge concern for me.  Also, it's amazing when you come out, then others come out, too, about their problems and experiences.  That's been a really surprising and refreshing discovery during my journey.  I'm constantly saying in my head "really, you?"  Most people just don't look like they have any problems.

One of the benefits of being an alcoholic, is a way cheaper tab.  I usually order decaf, mineral water or pop (aka soda, Coke, etc).  I've been to some places where they even let me drink pop for free.  One of the bars thought I was the designated driver, so it was a nice perk to drink for free.  My check at happy hour could easily be around $40 in the old days.  Now, it's closer to $5 and seemingly, $40 at the coffee shop as my new addiction is decaf, skim, hazelnut lattes.  I spend a lot of time in coffee shops now, so it's almost impossible for me to quit coffee.  I equate it to bars and drinking alcohol.  If I choose to morph back into a barfly, then it would be almost impossible for me to quit drinking booze. 

On Saturday, in addition to feeling stressed out about the stuff previously mentioned, I also started feeling sorry for myself.  I didn't want to have disease or an addictive personality anymore.  I wanted to be "normal."  I ignored the advice of my counselor on connecting with people when these discouraging feelings emerged and I just felt like being alone.  Also, when my life feels out of control, I try to control food.  It's been a pattern since I was a teenager and it was creeping back into my life.  My roommates were out of town that night and I went on a little eating binge.  I had peas and bread and felt satisfied, but then couldn't stop.  I proceeded to have chips and salsa, handfuls of chocolate chips and then made my own fruit and yogurt parfait with granola.  I was stuffed and felt gross.  I watched episodes of Oprah drinking all these fabulous beverages during her visit to Australia and I was jealous that I couldn't drink anymore on vacation or anywhere for the rest of my life.

I tried unsuccessfully multiple times to start a detox diet or cleanse in recent days.  I figured with all my food now gone in the house, it would be a good time to try again.  That night I ate myself into a food coma.  I fell asleep at 7 pm and woke up at 3 am.  I hoped that I hadn't gained any weight.  I was feeling heavy and lethargic.   


 

Day 131: Stripped (3.25.11)

~Never spend money before you have earned it~ Thomas Jefferson

**Names have been changed**

I was making plans to leave Richard in 2006 and was a few months away from paying off all of my credit card debt.  We had been together about 4 years and were living on separate floors of the house for the past several months.  We were arguing one night and I told him that I wanted a divorce.  "Go back to your dad.  He'll want you," he said.  Richard was the first person who I confided in about being molested by my father.  At the time, I had picked the most awkward moment to reveal this deeply held secret.  We had been dating a few months and hosted a small New Year's Eve party.  I was drunk and pulled him into the bathroom and told him.  He teared up and I thought he was the only guy who would ever cry about this secret.  I felt like he really cared about me. 

After he made that comment during our fight, I just stared at him and was speechless.  He proceeded to tell me that he was going to tell my parents everything that I had told him about the abuse which absolutely terrified me.  At the time, I never planned on confronting my parents.  I loved and needed my family and couldn't imagine losing them especially while going through a painful divorce.  I left the living room where he was sitting and went into the bedroom.  I sat at the end of my bed and looked out the window.  I was stunned and heartbroken.  I hadn't planned on this happening and didn't know what to do.  I felt very alone as I hadn't told any of my family and friends about my past.    

I decided to stay with Richard because divorce made me feel ashamed and guilty plus I was fearful that Richard would say something to my family.  I felt trapped and isolated.  The event triggered a spending binge which I had under control for a few years.  As an addict, I can rationalize anything; right or wrong.  I felt that if I had to stay in this pathetic marriage my whole life, that I was justified in having stuff that would make me happy.  Over the next several months, I accumulated about $30,000 in credit card debt including spending about $1000 on his 30th birthday party.  His gambling addiction also became worse and when he was gambling half of his paycheck and spending most of his time at casinos and online, I felt compelled to charge $10,000 on his credit cards to get his attention.  We agreed that I would pay him back in cash and sexual favors.  It was a ridiculous arrangement and I felt like a prostitute in my own home.

Of course, all this stuff didn't make me happy and didn't take away the excruciating pain.  After about a year back together, we separated again in 2008 and I moved back into our basement.  The housing market crashed and our house was now worth about $30-40 thousand less than what we paid a few years earlier.  I couldn't afford to hire an attorney and my credit cards were maxed out.  I started consumer credit counseling, so the majority of my money went towards paying bills and paying the mortgages.  My first "drug" of choice in the form of shopping was no longer available.  My second drug of choice became alcohol and my consumption steadily increased at happy hours, parties and at home.      

By 2009, I was terribly depressed and suicidal.  I think I cried everyday for a year and spent many weekends in bed.  At one point, I desperately searched for a crisis hotline on the internet.  Unfortunately, the worst time to look for a crisis hotline is when you're in a crisis.  When I finally found a number, they informed me that they had a 15-minute limit.  I felt very distraught and hopeless. The last straw came after coming home drunk one night and passing out in the hallway of our house, I awoke the next morning in Richard's bed naked while he was getting ready for work in the bathroom.  I felt so ashamed.  How could I let this happen?  What if I'm pregnant?  I couldn't believe that he did this to me.  I asked him if he used a condom and he said that he had.  This was the only time in my life that I couldn't remember having sex.  I was so disgusted with myself and hated him for taking advantage.  I never told my family or friends because I felt like a slut. 

To maintain the little sanity that remained, I moved out of the house shortly after the incident in July 2009 and moved into an apartment downtown which I loved.  I told Richard that I would continue paying the second mortgage to avoid foreclosure, but couldn't live with him anymore.  I was hoping the market would turn around shortly, so we could sell the house and break-even.  In March 2010, Richard stopped paying the first mortgage and wanted to foreclose.  It made me extremely angry.  I stopped paying my credit cards and focused on saving the house.  There were so many foreclosures and the banks were more more flexible with loan modifications, so I thought I might be able to pay for the house myself.  In the meantime, we both signed up for legal service benefits through work which covered our divorce fees.  I hired a lawyer in May and let him know my goals of moving back into the house.  I worked on loan modifications for both mortgages which took many hours and was extremely stressful.  I began paying what I could to both mortgages while paying rent.  My animosity toward Richard grew exponentially.  I was exasperated that he was saving all this money while I was paying for him to live there. 

Later, I found subleases and stayed at my parents for a few months while I dealt with the divorce and the house.  I ended up paying about $7000 towards both mortgages.  My drinking and partying significantly increased to cope with all the dysfunction and pain.  After my car accident happened in September, all the energy that I put towards the house and divorce was now going towards physically healing.  While this was occurring, I learned that our mediation in court was scheduled for December.  Everything became overwhelming and a few weeks prior to court, I was diagnosed with a brain disease which causes chemical dependency and addiction.  I had an emotional, physical and spiritual collapse.  On November 23, I was still unsure about what to do for addiction treatment and then I experienced an intervention, but not with a group of family and friends.  It was a Divine intervention that urged me to do inpatient treatment, so I checked myself into rehab the next day. 

Problems don't disappear while drinking, using drugs or attending treatment, so they've been patiently waiting for me.  Around this time in March, I had learned from one of the mortgage companies that a sheriff's sale was scheduled for April 11th.  I asked my lawyer to inquire if Richard would be willing to do a short sale.  Richard and his lawyer agreed with the plan as long as I did all the work.  I called a real estate agent who was willing to work with me and then he recommended that I also talk with a lawyer for more information on short sales.  I called the lawyer to make an appointment, however, I received word that Richard rescinded and no longer wanted to sell.  My lawyer told me that Richard would be able to live in the house for 6 more months after the sheriff's sale. 

I was livid that he could continue living there for free.  It infuriated me that Richard was able to stay in our house for almost 2 years alone and that he didn't have to pay anything for 18 of those months while I struggled.  I thought about the $32,000 that Richard could be saving by not contributing anything to the mortgages during this time.  In addition, I knew that he was planning bankruptcy which would absolve him from paying back the remainder of the mortgage after a sale; leaving me with the financial burden.  Since we're both listed on the mortgages, the banks could potentially come after me if I choose not to do bankruptcy.  I guess from a business perspective, he's making all the right choices.  Sometimes, you don't get rich by being moral and ethical.  I guess, I could have done the same thing, but that would have meant living with Richard and no amount of money was worth living in that toxic environment.    

Our divorce pre-trial was scheduled for April 27.  There was nothing I could do about a short sale as he would not sign off.  By going to trial, I was hoping to recoup some of my payments towards the mortgage, but the outcome was unknown.  With this new dilemma of hitting bottom financially, I finally asked for help.  I Googled christian financial planner minneapolis.  I desperately needed CPR to revive my financial health, so I decided to add a CPA to my team who also understood the concept of tithing and giving back.  I always thought you had to be rich to work with a financial planner, but I realized that I would never be financially stable without one.  He agreed to meet with me for a free consultation before treatment the previous day. 

I walked into his nice, big office filled with sports memorabilia and dark wood furniture.  He was fittingly analytical, but still personable.  He was probably in his late 40s.  We shared our backgrounds with each other.  I told him about my divorce, rehab, addictions, car accident, faith, etc.  He said that he knew some people who were alcoholics and asked me if I knew that I could never drink again.  His tone was respectful and he seemed to be looking out for me, so I replied that I understood and planned not to drink even though I really missed wine.  He made me feel comfortable.  We talked about our culture of overspending and lack of financial education in schools.  He told me about people he knows who make millions, but don't know how to handle it and think it's not enough.  He generously shared his testimony and it was really inspiring.  In the last few months, I've heard of so many stories of people who were blessed financially who have chosen to pay it forward.

I shared my credit report and told him my gross income.  We went over all my monthly expenses including federal and state taxes, health insurance, medical expenses, 401K, student loan, rent, bills, etc.  This was the first time that I had ever sat down and seriously reviewed my budget.  I felt really dumb as I couldn't account for some expenses which may explain my predicament of living paycheck to paycheck.  As I've discovered with many other aspects of my life, I was unconsciously spending and handling money.  Companies couldn't exist without a budget, so why did I think that I could be so undisciplined and reckless?  He asked me questions about my spending habits, but wasn't condescending or rude.  He said to me that "it's just money and that I could spend it however I wanted."  It was a total shift in thinking for me to view money as "just money" and it felt more empowering.  I had a lot of negative connotations surrounding money which started in childhood.  It always felt like money controlled me which is probably why I didn't want it around.  I couldn't get rid of it fast enough.

We talked a lot about needs versus wants.  For instance, some people he knows believe that country club memberships are needs.  On a much smaller scale, I felt like my $500 a month gym membership with personal training sessions were necessities to improve my health and maintain sobriety.  Of course, it's a want, but like I said, it's easy for me to rationalize and justify anything.  It's quite a talent.  Our conversation continued and went something like this as we talked about finances.  "Why did you do this," he'd ask.  "Because I'm stupid," I'd reply.  "Why did you do that?"  "Because I'm an idiot?"  "And this?"  "I don't know."  Even though it doesn't sound like it, this was actually a pretty enlightening conversation for me.  Psychology and finances are so intertwined and he motivated me to think hard about a lot of different things. 

He suggested bankruptcy.  I explained to him that I had a really difficult time with this because it made me feel like a bad person even though I knew of plenty of good people who have done it.  He said that I had many valid reasons to file with the accident, treatment, divorce, foreclosure, etc and that it would make sense to do it now when a quarter of the country is experiencing foreclosure.  I know there's a global financial crisis.  I know our country is trillions in debt and our state is billions in debt.  I know millions have been through divorce, bankruptcy, addiction, accidents, abuse, foreclosure, etc.  It's a bit narcissistic to believe that no one else has ever experienced the agony of all this drama.  However, while deeply embedded in the pain of financial ruin and all this other stuff, it still feels like I'm alone sometimes.      

We spent nearly 3 hours chatting and I was so grateful.  No one had ever taken the time to  talk to me about finances and help me establish a budget.  I still had a lot of big decisions to make, but felt hopeful.  It was cleansing to humble myself again and ask for help on another subject that had been so shameful for too long.  As I slowly peel each layer off this smelly onion, I've found that beyond the tears, there's clarity.       

   

Day 130: Scared (3.24.11)

~Courage is being scared to death...and saddling up anyway~ John Wayne

It was graduation #2.  This time, from the 12-week outpatient program.  Next week, I would be moving on to the final phase by joining a 6-week course.  I should know what each is called, but I don't remember their long names.  Basically, it's ongoing care and relapse prevention classes.  Every 6 weeks at the treatment center, they invite a local AA group to hold a meeting during part of our group time.  It gives newer clients the opportunity to be exposed to a meeting without the pressure of having to participate.  During the meeting, I kept wiping away tears listening to people's stories.  It was exactly four months ago that I had entered rehab on Thanksgiving Eve.  I was emotional thinking about the journey so far. 

I felt so blessed and grateful during my graduation.  The ladies said some really beautiful things to me and I was so touched.  I felt more real and connected, so hopefully, my counselors were proud.  I was authentic and became weepy again which was a different experience than the last graduation at inpatient treatment.  I felt overconfident or maybe even a little cocky before.  I was naive on what to expect from this recovery thing.  I felt smarter than some of the girls who had relapsed.  Now that I had been out in the real world for a couple months and back at work for about a month, I realized the difficulty and all the effort involved in remaining sober when new to recovery.  My other counselors at inpatient would be proud as I've avoided most using environments including happy hours.  I felt vulnerable, so I stayed away.  I'm just like everyone else who struggles with managing sobriety.  

After accepting my medallion, I started crying and my voice went up 3 ugly octaves.  I was honest with the women and told them that I was scared which was probably a healthy state this time around.  I still have cravings often, but feeling scared connects me to the chaos of the past and prevents me from using at this point.  I need to remember that alcoholism is also known as the disease of forgetfulness when one becomes too comfortable.  I finished by saying that when I'm an old woman, I'll remember treatment as a very precious time in my life.  It saved me.  I thanked the ladies and told them that I loved them all and would never forget them.


   

Day 129: Nightmares (3.23.11)

~People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff.  I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy...and I keep it in a jar on my desk~ Stephen King

My therapist asked about my dreams and I told her about reoccurring nightmares of falling from a tall building or from the sky.  Depending on the night, sometimes I wake up before or after hitting the ground.  I've also had various dreams of being chased.  Sometimes armed men chase me through different houses or from room to room firing at me.  In the last one I had, I was chased through the woods.  I jumped through ponds and ran through caves before hitting a rock wall where I couldn't escape.  When I'm trapped, caught or hit by a bullet, I immediately wake up.  As a kid, the myth was that if you die in your dreams, then you die in real life.  It made me nervous into adulthood, but I'm still breathing.  I've also had nightmares of people being violently killed by others in front of me.  These dreams are quite vivid and I've woken up in cold sweats.  It's been a couple months since my last nightmare, so the frequency is decreasing from a few times a month.  I thought everyone had dreams like these occasionally, but my therapist told me no which kind of surprised me.  I should have tracked my dreams during that dark period in my life.  I think it would've been insightful and revealing to compare these to what was happening in my life at the time.

During my session Wednesday evening, my counselor joined us for a few minutes and said that my last day of group would be the next day.  I had been given a heads up at the last group that this might happen.  She said that they felt that I had reaped all the benefits from this group.  My initial reaction was that they were kicking me out because of our meeting about inauthenticity, but I agreed that I had learned what I needed.  My counselor isn't one of those warm and fuzzy types, so I didn't get much recognition, validation or assurance that I did a good job and "it's time to leave the nest" type speeches.  One of the benefits that I gained during this group was confidence.  It was becoming part of my vocab and I began adding it as one of my strengths on various assignments.  Confidence helped me in this situation because I didn't need affirmation from her because I knew that I had worked hard and did a pretty good job.  My counselor confirmed that I hadn't done anything wrong and I would be moving on to join a 6-week group that met once a week.  It even had guys in it.  I relaxed after hearing that I was leaving on good terms and was excited to gain an extra week night.  This was progress and I trusted that they would not have moved me if I wasn't ready.   

By leaving group a couple weeks early though, I was missing out on the Moms section of the curriculum which talks about the sometimes complicated mother-daughter relationship.  I found that to be a common theme among many women in treatment.  They delayed having me start this current 12-week program back in January because they didn't want me entering during Moms due to the emotional intensity.  However, I was disappointed about missing out because I I was interested in learning more due to my own difficult relationship with my mother, so my counselor said that I could just review that part individually with herself or my therapist.  I had also been bummed in January about staying an extra few weeks doing inpatient work and watching all my friends graduate before me, but I guess, the time "served" was paying off because I was getting out of this group early.  The plan was to work 6 more weeks with my therapist as well.  

Later that night, I worked out with my trainer at the gym and then tried a kickbox cardio class which is a great workout, but I definitely made a fool out of myself.  I can't punch properly especially during quick punching routines.  I felt like an idiot, but still had fun.  If I ever had to do hand-to-hand combat with the people in my nightmares, I'd look like a total nerd. 

Day 128: Loony (3.22.11)

~If you have worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you might live in Minnesota~ Jeff Foxworthy

It's two days after the official start of spring and hailing snow pellets were shooting me in the face.  Earlier in the day, it was hurling rain showers.  It's days like these that make me wonder why I live in Minnie.  At this point, I could live anywhere.  I have nothing holding me back, but I stay here.  Why?!  I think it's the looniness that I'm addicted to and love.  I find it fitting that our state bird is the Loon.  I think we all have to be a little loony to live in a state where the temps can range from 100 below to 100 plus degrees.  We come from a line of loony people.  Why would the pioneers want to live here when they didn't even have heat or air conditioning? 

It's probably for the same reasons that I decided to hang around and call Minnie home despite winter.  It's the perfect mix of energy from city thrills to "Up North" peace.  I love the people, landscape, culture, politics, spring, summer, fall, snow until New Year's Day, etc.  It's beautiful, eclectic and always interesting.  I think the weather weeds out people that are even slightly loonier than some of us.  To combat the weather that day, I worked out at the gym and then got a massage.  Afterwards, I went to Spyhouse and sat in front of my favorite window; watching the night sky continue it's bombardment as I sought cover with a steaming mug of decaf hazelnut latte.     

Day 127: CEO of My Life (3.21.11)

~In the business world, the rearview mirror is always clearer than the windshield~ Warren Buffet

My windshield is still a bit buggy, unclear and uncertain as I continue to work on removing the debris.  Looking in the rearview mirror at the business of my life though, I was like an entrepreneur as I organized, operated and assumed the risk for my life's ventures.  I didn't have many venture capitalists that gave me encouragement or believed in me, so I supplied most of my own capital through my efforts.  With minimal training, I started running my life at an early age.  It was one big experiment with family, friendships, relationships, men, money, marriage, religion, health, education, work, etc.  I was very independent and felt accountable only to myself.  I was the CEO of My Life.   

Throughout life, I experienced a series of challenges, setbacks and rewards and I felt like it was me against a world of sharks.  The climate of my life was unsettling at times and there were moments of panic, but early in my life, I was resourceful and seemed to always find a way to make it work.  I didn't think I needed role models or mentors.  I was undisciplined and thought I had an endless budget of time and energy.  When my life was suffering, I fought to continue, but progressively, things started falling apart and it became increasingly difficult to perform tasks and fix things on my own.  Arrogantly and fearfully, I continued to do the same things over and over and expected that things would be different the next time around.  Insanely, I never stopped to evaluate, reassess and seek consult.  After many years as sole owner, I eventually destroyed my life.

After I hit bottom, I decided to temporarily remove myself as CEO and replace it with a team of people who I researched and hired to assist in rebuilding my life.  I realized that it was impossible to continue operating my life on my own accord as I didn't possess all the knowledge and tools to grow my life.  I felt stuck and hopeless, so I needed to start entrusting experts with repairing, healing and prospering my life.  I chose to release the relentless grip that I had and drastically change course in order to accomplish my new goals of sobriety and self-improvement.  As a result of allowing others to assist in building a solid foundation, I'm slowly emerging from bankrupting my life.  I'm very blessed and grateful to the people that have invested their time and energy on me. 

I've started to look at my mind, body and spirit as subsidiaries of my life.  Each entity is intimately connected and greatly impacts the other.  I've organized a wonderful team of people who have my best interest at heart.  God, friends, family, pastors, therapists, counselors, doctors, lawyers, trainers, managers, peers, etc, are readily available to help maintain my body, mind and spirit.  In order to manage sobriety, I need remain diligently conscious of the necessities of my life.  If anything feels out of sync, I have to analyze and review each area of my life.  Some of the questions I ask during my internal assessment include:

• Am I statusing with God?  
• Am I eating right?  
• Am I sleeping?  
• Am I exercising?  
• Am I attending meetings? 
• Am I managing stress?  
• Am I financially responsible?  
• Am I going to church?  
• Am I volunteering?  
• Am I hanging out with friends? 

Usually, if my life is struggling, I'm not executing on some of these items.  Then, I have choices to make on next steps which include changing my behavior and actions or asking my beloved team for help.  

Day 126: Puppy Love (3.20.11)

~I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive~ Gilda Radner 

It was a fun weekend; measurements, Simpson House, roller skating, Bunny's Bar and Grill, personal training, March Madness, coffee shop, writing, church, dog sitting.  Since I signed up for 4 more sessions, the hot trainer offered to do a bonus session which couldn't have come at a better time.  I had been feeling hot and bothered and thanks to Period Tracker, which I upgraded to include more moods and symptoms, it confirmed that I was indeed in my fertile period.  To combat urges, I had been eating more pasta and rice, so I needed the extra workout.  On Sunday after church, I met up with the hot trainer.  I wore my hot pink tank and black fitted knee pants.  He started off by saying, "At the end of this, I'll have you drenched in sweat."  I refrained from saying "that's what all the boys say."  At the end of the workout, I was drenched and dying.  He also strength trains the U of M Football team, so I felt like I had just endured one of their workouts.  He left me with a headache.

Later that afternoon, I participated in a less strenuous activity for friends; dog sitting.  I love dogs, but hate their poop.  Our last family dog passed away more than 10 years ago and I haven't had my own since then because they're like kids.  They take up a lot of time and energy and you have to clean up after them.  I know the benefits and rewards outweigh the negatives for most, but not for me at this point.  I get my kid and animal fix from those belonging to family and friends.  My slumlord has a very generous heart despite being a slumlord and he takes in the occasional strays including people and pets.  It's like a home for wayward creatures such as myself.  One day, during the winter while I was on leave from work, he took care of a friend's dog.  I was excited to be in the presence of an animal because of their energy.  They bring me happiness, positivity and unconditional love.  I took the dog for a walk, but before we left, my slumlord handed me a baggie.  Ugh, I forgot they poop!  Fortunately, I told this dog not to poop and he listened.

On that Sunday, I dog sat for a black, furry rag doll.  I was pooped from my workout and I think he could sense my pain.  He snuggled next to me under my arm and we took a catnap on the couch.  Their cat slept in the room, too, but on her own chair of course.  The weather was dreary and perfect for napping, so we all woke up a little late and I fed them dinner.  I guess we all needed the sleep.  After dinner, we went out for dessert at a coffee shop down the block.  I ordered a hot chocolate and he got a biscuit which they have available for their 4-legged customers.  This dog didn't listen to my no pooping request though.  I picked up excrement for the first time with only the thinnest of plastic separating my skin from grossness.  It was drizzly out and his poop was squishier, so it just added insult to ickiness.  He also did it in someone's yard in front of a busier street, so I couldn't just pretend that it never happened.  I quickly forgave him because of his cuteness and we also share the same hair style.  We continued our walk while I carried dog crap passed a limo and other cars.  True puppy love. 

Day 125: I Spy (3.19.11)

~I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

When I first started hanging out at local coffee shops, I felt like I was entering the world of the oppressed.  I was out of my element among people who I viewed at the time as hippies, tree huggers and uber intellectuals.  The atmosphere was sobering.  It was quite a contrast from pubs and restaurants where I never saw people reading or working on laptops alone.  I used to feel semi-depressed walking into coffee shops after work.  Happy hour was so much more happier.  There was camaraderie and laughter.  People were all talkative, cheerful and boisterous on the outside.  The loudness drowned out the noise of the day.  The coffee shop energy was more subdued, serious and introspective.  Since becoming sober, I've spent hours at Spyhouse Coffee Shop at their East Isles and Nicollet locations.  I like sitting belly up at the table in front of their huge windows spying on all the traffic and people. 

My favorite spot is the East Isles one on Hennepin for it's quirkiness, so I especially blend in well.  It also feels less morgue-like now.  I enjoy sitting and drinking coffee or tea while writing, thinking, observing, staring and spying.  It's situated between a vintage clothing store and a salon.  Across the street, there's a Red's Savoy Pizza, a Valvoline, an empty shop and a Fifth Element.  Spyhouse is dimly lit and there are mirrors, maps, animals, boats, games, etc, hanging on the walls.  They serve my favorite decaf, skim hazelnut lattes using organic hazelnut.  It's subtle and not as sweet as some of the syrups used at the chains.  I've become a syrup snob now.  My favorite vanilla latte is at Dogwood Coffee in Calhoun Square.  The syrup is so delicious and they add real vanilla beans that I like to nibble on.  

When I'm trying to cut down on my coffee intake, I sometimes order a cute pot of their delicious tea which Spyhouse purchases from TeaSource in St Paul.  I love their tisanes or herbal teas called Red Berries and Evening in Missoula.  It's perfect aromatherapy and a garden of tastes; calming and beautiful.  Red Berries has a very sweet smell and taste as it's made from hibiscus flowers, elderberries, bilberries, grapes, and citrus peel.  Evening in Missoula has a romantic scent and spiciness with chamomile, rosehips, raspberry, papaya, peppermint, spearmint, strawberry leaf, vanilla, passion flower, red clover, star anise, and wild cherry bark. 

From my post at Spyhouse, I've secretly observed lovers and quarrelers.  I've overheard first dates and death threats.  One person was so upset at the other for losing millions of dollars in multiple real estate deals.  I felt very badly for the woman who looked so defeated during this verbal assault.  I was afraid to say something to the abusive man who was sitting near me, so I just looked at him a few times.  He just ignored me.  I wonder how many books and scripts have been written at coffee shops compared to bars.  I've been to the Target in Crystal several times where Diablo Cody wrote her Academy Award winning script Juno while sitting at the Starbucks there.  I grew up in a city nearby and at one point, lived blocks away from that Target during the time she might have been writing her script.  Coffee shops are  great places to write and think.  I escape internally rather than externally now.  I escape in thoughts, senses and feelings whereas before I escaped amongst people, places and things.  The challenge is to find a balance.   

Spyhouse is open until midnight.  There's another coffee shop in Uptown that's open until 1 am, but it's kind of smelly and semi-gross.  I don't mind the art and graffiti, but I do mind uni-sex bathrooms especially when consuming diuretics.  I've gone there a couple times and both were bad experiences.  I paid almost $6 for the grossest hazelnut latte that I've ever tasted in my life.  Of course, being from Minnesota, I didn't say anything.  On top of that, their internet wasn't working, so I just bought the most expensive, grossest hazelnut latte ever in exchange for nothing.  I flagged down the "barista" who was out smoking with her friend and she didn't know how to fix it.  Another time, I felt like writing somewhere and it was late.  The only spot that I knew of that wasn't a bar was this place.  I walked up and there was a sign on the door saying that they were closing an hour and a half early.  I took it as a sign that I should just stay away.  Besides, there are separate bathrooms at Spyhouse that are clean and fragrant in a good way.

I came to Spyhouse on New Year's Eve.  It was my first NYE sober and I was fresh out of rehab and on the verge of bronchitis.  I felt crappy, so after AA, I went there to write, but the barista said that they were closing at 10 that night.  "You just want to drink," I thought to myself half joking. "Don't you know that some of us are trying to get sober."  So, I went to my other favorite sober spot; a grocery story that was open until midnight.  The week that I first got sober back in mid-November, I spent every night at Spyhouse.  I would write for a few hours and then decompress by driving around for an hour or two as I was suffering from insomnia anyway.  In the months following rehab, I've written many nights until "coffee time" at Spyhouse.  Instead of last call for drinks, they call out when the internet will be turned off and then I head home.  Grateful that I made it another day sober thanks to spying.  

Day 124: Roller Coaster (3.18.11)

~Life is a roller coaster. Sometimes you're at the top of the hill feeling good. Other times you're heading for the bottom feeling totally out of control. Life is full of things that are hard to handle, but you can get through them~ Reggie Dabbs

It was the day after St Patty's Day and I didn't feel hungover, but continued to feel irritable.  Not sure which one I'd rather be at that point.  It was about 6 weeks from the time that I started working out, so it was time to get measurements done by the hot trainer after work.  I laughed when he said that I had gained inches, but in the wrong places; 2 inches in my neck and 6 inches in my shoulders!  My fat usually goes to my butt and thighs.  Is it now redistributing to my neck and shoulders or am I gaining bulging muscles there?!  Apparently, the other trainer, who no longer worked there, did my measurements wrong.  It was fun to chuckle about it after a hard day.  Just new problem areas to tone up, I guess.  He asked if I went out last night.  I told him that I was a good girl and went to the gym which I had done after treatment.  He said that he didn't go out either.  

During the last weigh-in, I left my shoes on, but this time, I asked if I could remove these.  I had been eating my favorite comfort foods; pasta, rice, bread and sugar to manage stress, so I knew that I had gained a few pounds.  Weigh-ins stress me out, so I wanted to ease the pain of seeing the number on the scale.  With my shoes off, I weighed the same as last time which was 136.  Not losing anything after putting in so many hours at the gym was a little disheartening even though I know muscle weighs more than fat, but ingesting extra calories didn't help.  Overall, I felt stronger and healthier though and my fitness assessment went well.  I could lift heavier weights, do more sit-ups and my endurance improved.  Afterwards, I had a session with my beloved personal trainer.  She's kind of like a therapist who pushes me physically, so I signed up for 4 more sessions a month.  I left the gym feeling much better than earlier in the day.

Later that night, my friend arranged a roller skating party at a local rink which hosted adult theme nights from 8-midnight.  It was timely because I went to my first roller derby a few weeks ago and I wanted to try skating again, but without the bumping and jamming, although, that would be fun, too.  The last time that I skated was in elementary school.  I was looking forward to doing something different on a Friday night and hanging out with friends after a long week.   I laced up my skates and wobbled around like an infant trying to walk.  It was a large, dimly lit place with old school funk and disco playing in the background.  Nostalgia hit as I slowly made my first lap and instantly, I went back in time to Cheap Skate as I remembered holding hands with a boy while skating around in circles to some 80's hair band ballad.

It was quite an eclectic group there of all different ages, sizes, shapes, skin color and apparel.  I was surprised that there were slightly more men than women.  Some were on roller blades, but I wanted to nerdily challenge myself on skates.  I was jealous of some of the gracefully coordinated skaters who could do things like skate backwards and spin.  Everyone was passing me and it annoyed me a little.  My competitive nature hit, so I circled and circled the rink practicing my turns and putting one foot in front of the other.  I could feel it in my legs and hips and I started working up a sweat.  After a couple hours, I became pretty comfortable.  I moved faster, rocked my turns and felt cool passing people.  I was coasting along and then BAM!  I fell flat on my elbows and knees when I tripped over my own feet while making a turn.  The floor was very unforgiving and of course, I biffed in front of a large crowd of people.  Someone offered to help me up, but I was too embarrassed to accept.  I slowly got up on my own and kept rolling with scathed body parts and ego.  There was one point in the evening that I wondered why I had never tried skating while intoxicated, but it's probably a good thing as I would've ended up even more injured.  
 

Day 123: Green Day (3.17.11)

~St. Patrick…one of the few saints whose feast day presents the opportunity to get determinedly whacked and make a fool of oneself all under the guise of acting Irish~ Charles M. Madigan 

Just over 4 months sober!  Time for another medallion and another round of post-acute withdrawal symptoms (PAWS).  Unluckily, it had to happen around St Patty's Day and the luck of the Irish brought a beautiful, sunny, 50-degree day to celebrate.  I would've loved to have been out with my friends, but I experienced big time cravings that day.  I actually almost started crying because of the intensity.  Stress is my biggest trigger, so cravings creep up especially when I'm experiencing PAWS; mood swings, anxiety, irritability, tiredness, variable energy, low enthusiasm, variable concentration and disturbed sleep.  Symptoms usually last a couple years and not coincidentally, occur around AA medallion milestones.  If you can ride it out, you earn a chip.  Luckily, St Patty's Day fell on a Thursday because I had outpatient treatment later that night.   

The Brain Chemistry lecture was scheduled which was appropriate since mine was regulating again.  As much as I love the lecture, I saw it about 3 times during inpatient, so luckily, they didn't make me sit through it again and I just met with a counselor for about an hour.  One of the interesting things I learned from that class was about ethnic and cultural risk factors which contribute to alcoholism.  People of East Asian descent sometimes have fewer enzymes in their liver to metabolize alcohol, so they may experience a rash or appear flushed when drinking.  There are fewer cases of alcoholism among East Asians, but higher rates of opiate abuse.  Those of Irish, English or Russian descent may have double the enzymes, so along with other factors, there may be an increased risk for alcoholism.  Some people of Native American decent have a sensitivity to sugar, so there may be higher risks for obesity, diabetes and alcoholism.  After my chiro mentioned that I might be a mixed breed, it made sense because I've never seen or met another East Asian while in treatment or in all the support groups that I've attended so far.       

Other reasons I may be mixed with Irish or other ethnicity:

1. I am not good at math

2. I am a good driver; no accidents (caused by me) and only one moving violation in 19 yrs

2. I am not good in bed (according, to one guy)

3. My slumlord made fun of me for not knowing how to use a rice cooker

4. Asian Fit sunglasses by Oakley do not fit my face right

 

Day 122: Alonely (3.16.11)

~Language... has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone.  And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone~ Paul Tillich

I feel emotionally vulnerable at times on the drive to therapy as I think about what I want to talk about or what we may talk about.  I was sitting at a stoplight near Lake Calhoun and across the street, I saw the perfect looking family waiting to cross.  It was like a Ralph Lauren ad mocking my pathetic life.  He had longer, blondish brown, messy hair.  She had long, straight, dark brown hair.  They were both tall, thin and gorgeous.  Their chubby-cheeked baby wore an adorable newsboy hat.  Her hands were on the baby stroller.  His hand was wrapped around her shoulder while the other hand held the leash of the their beautiful black lab.  He pulled her closer and gave her a kiss on the head as she rested it on his shoulder.  It was sickeningly sweet and I teared up.  That's what I had envisioned for my life.

After therapy, I was still feeling bummed about life and drove around listening to music.  I felt alone and lonely as I was surrounded by people.  Do you ever feel that way in your car, in your home with a significant other or family, in a city of hundreds, thousands, millions, in a world of billions?  It's easy to feel insignificant among all these people; unworthy, undeserving, unfixable, unloveable.  If you feel this way, too, then I guess, we're not alone.

Day 121: Sighting (3.15.11)

~We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken~ Fydor Dostoevsky

We had our annual spring business meeting for work.  Thousands of employees filled a stadium to hear leadership speak.  My soon-to-be ex-husband and I work for the same company, but didn't meet here.  Luckily, we work in separate divisions and buildings.  Prior to the meeting, I wondered what I would do if I bumped into him, but didn't give it much thought as the the chances were minimal with thousands of people in attendance.  I walked over to the meeting with a few friends.  We decided to try a different way into the stadium as one entrance was jammed with people.  At the other entrance, I saw buses that had transported employees from the other buildings.  Then, I looked over and saw him as he stared back at me.  

I remember the first time that I saw him at a party almost 10 years ago.  I actually liked one of his friends and he liked my roommate.  When our first choices weren't interested, we gravitated towards each other, so we were both each others' second choices.  I remember when I first started noticing him at a bar while we were partying with friends.  I thought he was fun and wanted him to like me.  When I saw him at the business meeting, we looked at each for a few seconds and then I turned away.  I was expressionless, but internally, I felt disgusted for a variety of reasons in myself and him.  I commented to my friends that I just saw my ex-husband.  I have a lot to share about my experiences with marriage and divorce, but I can't say anything now as we're still in litigation.  I also learned that my ex is a reader of my blog.  It's devastating how things evolved from that very first glance.  I have many regrets. 

Day 120: Mirror (3.14.11)

~When the defects of others are perceived with so much clarity, it is because one possesses them oneself~ Jules Renard

It was the day I was scheduled to meet with my counselors about their perception that I may have been disingenuous during the Self section of the curriculum.  As I thought about it more, it increasingly irritated me.  I equated it to a closeted person telling the un-closeted one that they were inauthentic.  I have been open and honest inside and even, outside of treatment and I'm the disingenuous one?!  I'm good at working myself up and preparing for a full armored defense, so I decided to stop this time and not ruminate until I had a chance to speak with my counselors.  

I discovered running a few weeks ago, but I'm not a natural runner who always enjoys it.  Over that weekend, I ran 7 miles without stopping for the first time ever in my life.  I usually struggle the first mile or feel like dying the entire time, but on that day, it felt effortless from start to finish and I experienced my first runner's high.  It felt exhilarating even though it was just on the treadmill at the gym.  It helped with stress and put things in perspective.  I know that I'm not perfect, so feedback is good.  I usually don't give feedback unless people ask because I don't want to offend people, so in some respect, it's a brave thing for someone to do for someone else if their heart is in the right place.  

One of the toughest jobs in the world would be President of this country as almost everyone in the world has an opinion, criticism or feedback for every action or inaction.  To be under that kind of scrutiny is unimaginable to me, so I guess, my point is that it could always be worse.  I'm obviously not in the public spotlight, so at least, most of the  feedback that I receive is from people who have my best interest at heart and want me to succeed.  This is a new prospective for me as I used to think that most people wanted me to fail.  It's a very difficult and unnerving way to live when you view the world this way. 
 
I finally met with my counselors who were concerned that I was holding back or felt uncomfortable sharing because of my emotional disconnection.   I told them about some of my background growing up and they understood that my disassociation was a way of survival.  They also wanted to be sure that my new found confidence was genuine and not masking anything.  They said that people don't typically display this level of confidence at this point in treatment, but later on in our conversation, they rightly attributed this to the few extra weeks that I spent doing inpatient classes and the spirituality work.  I agree that all the effort has definitely contributed to building my confidence and self esteem.  I assured them that I wasn't stuffing my feelings like I used to and that I just had trouble openly sharing some emotions.  I told them how I'm able to connect in private or while working with my therapist, but I'd work on connecting with these in group.  Overall, they just wanted to make sure that I was okay and it was a positive meeting.   

Later in group, I had a glimpse back in time as I saw my 29-year-old self reflecting back at me when I heard a girl of that age struggling with her identity and longing for clarity.  She was a perfectionist who didn't like her recent weight gain and hated buying bigger clothes.  She didn't like how she looked and had plastic surgery in the past, but desired more.  She was a victim of sexual trauma, but like most women, she minimized and internalized the pain.  I learned that about 75% of female addicts have experienced sexual abuse, but one of my counselors said that in her experience, it's affected about 90% of her clients.  This woman was beautiful on the outside with a good job, house, designer car and clothes to mask the ugliness inside. She shopped a lot and spent money to fill voids.  She admitted that she could come off as a snob, but I believe this was her way of keeping people away.  

When the counselor commented that it must be exhausting to be perfect, she agreed that it was difficult.  She believed there was nothing wrong with striving for perfection as one could always improve.  However, it's impossible to troubleshoot or improve your life when you don't think anything is wrong or you think that you're perfect.  I think the difference between self-improvement and perfection is that perfection always results in failure.  It's hard to celebrate self-improvement milestones when you're aiming for perfection as you will always fall short and will never be good enough.  It creates a lot of stress and anxiety which are perfect justifications to drink or use drugs.  These were always my favorite excuses.     

She was training for a marathon and wanted to remain sober while she trained, so someone recommended that she come here which seemed like an extreme measure.  If someone recommends a treatment center as part of your training regime, you might have a problem.  I could relate to this girl in so many ways though as I could see her denial and frustration.  She described her fiance as a functional alcoholic and instead of drinking and driving anymore, they would get bombed at home instead.  However, she didn't believe that she was an alcoholic.  I expressed to her that I saw a lot of myself in her at that age.  I told her that I was a recovering addict as well as perfectionist and I hoped that she would accept help because from 29 to 34, my disease quickly spread.  I consider it a metastatic disease like cancer.  I fortunately caught it before it seriously affected other organs besides my brain, but metaphorically, it affected my heart along with all other parts of my body and spirit.  I wanted her to treat the disease now to prevent a lot of misery and pain in the future.

She said that she couldn't relate to any of us and that she's never experienced hitting bottom, but I think that if she had honestly taken a look, she would have seen her reflection.  She was superficial, tormented and isolated, but at least, she showed up to treatment which is more than I did at her age.  She began feeling challenged in group as she was forced to take a glimpse inside, but she said that she planned on drinking after her marathon and drinking the best wine at her wedding overseas.  Some of the women in group expressed irritation that she was using treatment as part of her marathon training and some questioned her beliefs about not having a problem.

I was beginning to feel a little frustrated with her, too, but when I was addicted, my irrational thinking was rational to me as well.  I didn't find clarity until the consequences outweighed the comforts and I got clean.  I asked her why she was here if she thought that she could control it?  She was outwardly annoyed with all of our questions.  She responded again that she was there for clarity and then said that she didn't need this anymore.  She grabbed her stuff and dramatically left in a huff.  This happened at The House a few times, so I had been exposed to this behavior before and wasn't shock.  It was a reality check on this awful disease.  If she reflects on the night that she left treatment because she was unwilling to do any of the internal work, she will gain the clarity in which she sought.  

I found this person unlikeable in her current state because she was an image of my former self, but I felt compassion for her as she battled with her own demons.  I wasn't happy that she left group.  I felt slightly guilty that I was the last person to ask her a question before she walked out, but none of the counselors said anything to me.  I felt really sad for her.  She kept people at a distance and thought that she knew everything.  Her heart was hardened by things that had occurred in her life and she greatly suffered, but she wasn't ready to get better, yet.  Everyone is on their own journey.  My counselor said that there is a rule of thirds when it comes to treatment.  A third will remain sober, a third will relapse and a third will die.  My prayer and wish for her is that she survives and experiences peace and love in her heart that she deserves. 

Day 119: Tithing (3.13.11)

~Give me five minutes with a person's checkbook, and I will tell you where their heart is~ Billy Graham

While in elementary school, my friend and me were talking about the churches we attended.  I told her that my family went to an Evangelical Free church and my Catholic friend thought it was cool because she said that her family's church was really expensive.  I've never been a tither or a cheerful giver.  The few times I did go to services prior to rehab, it always felt like an obligation to give.  My family stopped going to a couple different churches growing up because they thought the pastors talked about money too much.  I've always been fine giving the majority of money to CEO's of companies who ask for money through ads, but for some reason, it always felt awkward to hear pastors of churches ask for money.  

I read an article that the Bible has 500 versus on prayer, fewer than 500 versus on faith and more than 2000 versus on money.  It said that 15% of everything that Jesus ever taught was on the subject of money and possessions; more than his teachings on Heaven and Hell combined.  The article cited that there was a fundamental connection between our spiritual lives and how we think about and handle money.  In my experience, I wholeheartedly agree.  When I didn't feel like enough, I never had enough.   

A few Sundays ago, my pastor did a series on tithing.  He said that whenever he speaks on the subject, he receives negative feedback from some people who say they won't attend anymore.  My church isn't legalistic about giving.  My pastor explained that it's a heart thing.  They don't require that people give nor do they tell people that they can't get into Heaven if they don't give.  In my experience, they've welcomed everyone including this former addict who isn't able to give a lot right now.  I remember my grandpa talking about a church who kept track of what each person gave and if you didn't tithe enough, then you couldn't be buried in the church cemetery.

By definition, tithing is a tenth of one's annual income and it's something that I'd like to work towards, but I'm far from it right now.  The first week that I was planning to give, I decided not to because I chose to spend my money on other stuff.  It's a tough process for me to try and become a good steward.  I have a hard time letting go and trusting God in all things especially my finances.  I truly believe that He has infinite knowledge and resources, but my actions don't reflect that belief.  It's hypocritical as I hang on tightly to my money.  I've made some very poor financial decisions in the past, so you'd think that it'd be easy for me to ask God for help.  However, it's been difficult.

My church gives a lot of money away and they're investing in lives rather than products.  Buying things for myself bought me temporary happiness, but I know in the future, giving money away will bring me longer lasting joy.  I'm working on getting to a place where I'm okay with God controlling my finances.  I idolized money for a long time.  I know that I don't have to give anything to get into Heaven because Jesus paid the ultimate price, but to grow in my faith, I want to practice good stewardship, cheerful giving and letting go.  If I give the small amount that I can right now, I believe that God can multiply money like he did with fish and loaves.  In order for me to increase my giving, I need to manage my desire for more and be okay with enough.  If I think that I am enough, then I don't need anymore.       

PS Welcome Hungary!  Excited to add it to my travel list.