I want to write about treating others as we would expect to be treated (if you love yourself enough) In recovery, there is this long and arduous, yet somehow pure and raw discovery of who we really are and what our destiny entails. If you are one of the lucky ones? You will go through the darkest nights of repressed grief, shame, abandonment and despair. I say this because in order to get sober, you have to do the work. There will be slips and relapse, until you finally come face to face with your demons, make amends to people you may not even like (over and over again) have awkward discussions in the supermarket aisles because you run into the nurse you screwed over in regards to a shift you didn’t show up for because you were home, hungover and sick…..and not remembering that you had told her just last night you would work for her because her aunt died. Those conversations. Bad lighting, bad feelings and bad memories, oh my GOD those first years re hard.
If someone argues with you that getting sober is easy? Call them a liar. Call their bluff. They may just break down and get real, emotions might be triggered….every sober person has a colorful, if not plethora of “stories” involving how hard it was not to take that drink/drug the night that something didn’t go your selfish way.
My husband just came home to find that I have yet another cold. I have done everything under my control to protect myself this year (vitamins, homeopathic mixes, probiotics, vitamin C……) and remain healthy. I do have a compromised immune system, and I can no longer apologize for things of this nature, as I do not relish in it, nor do I enjoy being sick and ineffective when I am painting the entire house, take care of 12 animals, have to clean, cook, do laundry, change sheets, go to the grocery store….. my volunteer work, clean the litterboxes…Come on.
“You’re always sick,” he laughs, bitterly.
His reaction let me down, and rather than retaliate? I want to lovingly say that I have told him thousands of times that this is related to my Lyme, and my state of mind. I used to pray for a cold to get a few days off around this time of year-you know, horizontal, you-can’t-clean-you-can’t-cook, you want to sleep until the cows come home, you know the drill. As of late I loathe the idea of being less than 100 percent. I wasted way too many days sleeping or sick, although I remain convinced that God wanted me alone, near and quiet. I want to live this life I love, have new adventures and we aren’t promised tomorrow. Carpe Diem is literally my new catchphrase.
There are things on my mind this time of year, but I push my feelings down. Everyone and their mother knows that many people suffer crippling depression/anxiety during the holidays, and not only are my parents gone, but I am only speaking to one third of my family, and the other third lives thousands of miles away in Las Angeles.
What I am trying to say is: this has been a hard week. I found out my estranged sister was diagnosed with melanoma in situ, and obviously I just cannot afford to break no contact. Sometimes it’s all I can do not to drive down to Exton, and insist she cry on my shoulder, show some emotion, get it off her chest….no you are not perfect, who said you ever had to be? Please, please seek counsel with a professional for your pain that you have pushed down for 51 years! I don’t judge you, I am protecting my sanity and well being.
What I’m trying to say Dwain is this: Why can’t you be happy about how far I have come? Did you forget how much I dread the holidays…..how I have scratched and clawed my way out of bed, out of depression and addiction. I have scars on the outside, but that is nothing to compare to what I have on the inside, that remains unspoken, so I don’t have to rock the boat. But honey? I’ve been apologizing for my own pain for way too long, just be the husband Jesus and I know you to be. I love you Charlie.