The darkness recedes, the light will hold on just a little bit longer. i love a good Solstice. i've had space to reflect on my year, and develop some hope for the future.
Rewind to last Solstice and journey with me. i had just had my heart broken. i was crying a lot, i muddled through Christmas. i was a bit more cheerful during a family New Year's celebration. 2014 began.
Ten days into the new year, that brilliant beautiful man and i decided to give us another chance. We fell back into our sweet rhythm, with a few tweaks, and we've been strong since. i am so grateful.
i carried on lifeguarding at a local fitness center. It was quiet and boring. It gave me a lot of time to be inside myself. i really got a lot out of it.
On Valentine's day i went to Philly for some Ratdog. A whirlwind experience. Hippie love in a cold city.
In March, just when the cold had become much too much, i escaped with my best friend down to Florida. A divine week with her extraordinary grandparents. i can home and the fitness center closed. i kind of floated around aimlessly for a bit.
April warmed up our days. i lounged around in my favorite coffee shop. i did family and friend stuff. i got my first tattoo. Some discouragement about my life was felt. i kept goin along.
June sent me soaring. i saw Ilya accomplish a Tough Mudder and it made my heart sing. i gallivanted up a mountain for a music festival and had an awakening. i was inducted into a tribe of faeries. i got to hug one of my favorite artists, Michael Franti. i formed amazing bonds. i hitched a ride home with a friendly stranger. Hippie bliss.
And then i landed a new fabulous job. i found a swim school with a unique style of teaching and an overall warm atmosphere. (It's also 90 degrees in there lol). i filled a need as a new guard.
Random summer happenings came and passed. Fun hangouts between working, and making a home with my boyfriend. i had experiences bonding with people through a language barrier. Ilya's family and i have formed relationships despite them not being English speakers and me not being a Russian speaker (yet). What a gift.
August made me high, i've never been so elevated. The Gathering of the Vibes, my home festival, breathed life into me - fluttering around as a faerie, crafting with kids, amazing music, fantastic friends. Two weeks later, a new festival, Bella Terra, brought new adventures. Beautiful Earth indeed. Then i turned 21. A day i was anxious about since embarking on sobriety 6 years ago. A day at the zoo, some family, friends, and cheesecake made it more fulfilling than i could've imagined.
In September i had my first experience saving someone. At a pool party, little girl fell off her float. Quick action, no damage.
At work i was asked to grow with them. i started training to become a teacher with them. Come October, my coworkers relinquished a handful of classes to me, and i really started to come into my own.
Though i've never been so sick as this Autumn. Fevers, ear infections, incessant mucus. But it cleared eventually.
November brings both a lot of stress and gratitude. Work started to feel a lot like another home, i was fitting in seamlessly, and i was being nurtured. i ran around on Thanksgiving to 3 parties and ate 3 feasts, and resolved never again.
In picking up so much of my family's slack, Ilya and i realize we'll make pretty good parents. On the backburner, of course, but when it comes we won't be worried.
We trudged through December, budgeted for gifts, made our plans, and got through it. Here we are.
i can see how much i've grown. Most notable is my financial independence. i'm very proud of myself. Less than a year ago it seemed like such an unattainable goal. But here it is. i have this chaotic apartment with my wonderful boyfriend and we dream for our future - our apartment after this and, of course, our ideal home, someday pets, someday marriage, someday kids, someday travelling in our retirement.
He's working on his career, getting his massage therapy license to help pay for nursing school. i'm secure in my job, loving the people i work with and for, learning every day.
Our families of origin take inconsistent priority. We're both doing a lot of work. We have friends come around but we are each others' rocks.
For the first time in my life, i've reached a significant level of contentment. A lot of times it seems surreal. Yes, there are still many struggles, and still some baggage to sort through. But really, i can just take a deep breath and be happy.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Sunday, December 28, 2014
The Light In The Darkness
i used to hate Christmas. A rather long list of why i hated Christmas. For a few years, during the month of December, i would just seethe.
Throwback
Why i Hate Christmas: A List
- i hate the cold
- i hate the copious amounts of food, as someone with an eating disorder
- i hate the commercialism, it's stupid. and pisses me off as a Christian.
- i hate the fancy outfits
- i hate the family drama
- i hate people watching me open presents
- i hate the "joy"
- i hate the expectation
- i hate the disappointment
Til along came an angel that helped me turn my view around. There was a woman in my church that i got pretty close with. i told her about my despairing of the holiday time. She empathized with me, and then she challenged me. She asked me to start a new list. And she would do it, too. We would keep our eyes open, and find things around us that weren't so bad, maybe i could like, might be a source of comfort, or reprieve from the craziness, or reflect some serenity, or even inspire a smile, that only the holiday season could bring. The first thing on our list came to us in a small package. As we talked, a little girl of about 3 pranced around the room with her beautiful blond tresses tied up in a red satin ribbon. Her outfit and liveliness seemed very influenced by the most wonderful time of the year, and even i couldn't deny that it was very cute. i conceded, and i promised to find at least 5 things. On the first Sunday in the new year, we'd share our lists with each other.
i ended up finding 11 things. i wish i still had that first list. It was a turning point, and i could actually feel things physically shifting inside me. i carried on with the list for the following 4 years, until i could find some felicity without trying too hard.
This year proved to be a challenge. Yes, i've reconciled with many of the items on my old list. i've accepted the cold, i enjoy much of the food and dressing up and people watching me open presents, i pay less mind to commercialism, family drama, and really try not to have any expectations at all but rather take each moment as it comes. This year could've been fantastic, but my emotional state held me back.
With the resurgence of the trauma, i definitely had a fear of falling apart. i reached out to my priest for some support. Reverend Judy has seen me at my darkest. She held my hand, soothed me, guided me. She's watched me transform from a scared broken dispirited child, to a resilient bright hopeful woman. She has been one of my biggest cheerleaders, and is a significant support. She eagerly made time for me, even during this very busy time.
When we got together, we got right to it. She remembered my past struggle with the good doctor. When i brought him up, i saw her eyes widen with a flash of anger. (Seeing her react like that was actually quite comforting, her care for me and protectiveness was displayed on her face with recalling disdainfully someone who had hurt me so badly.) i explained to her the new crop of struggles i was having. We looked at the growth between then and now, and acknowledged the gift. We talked about dealing with the hard shit, how i was handling it in the best way - naming it, asking for help, feeling it, carrying on with other daily duties. i was not falling apart, and i was saying no to the things that would make me do so.
i talked through the difficulty of holding the dichotomy of resent the doctor and essentially owing him my life. It's been the most arduous piece to this process. And the conversation about it brought forth the best nugget of wisdom i could've asked for. It went like this:
Yes, there is discomfort in dichotomies. But health is acknowledging the duality, holding it up to the light, not running from it.
Before, my life was filled with conflicts and opposites and feelings and i was so overwhelmed that i just denied it all. i buried myself under a huge mess.
i'm miles away from that now. And so our talk didn't spend much time on the subject of the trauma, rather we focused on my state of being - my perseverance, the talents i have, the gifts i have to give and ways in which i can give them. That's what my healing has been about - identifying my strengths and drawing on them in real ways to measure and feel productive and build my self esteem and inner image.
She reminded me of my favorite quote.
i've been playing small. i have yet to accept that i'm an adult. It feels uncomfortable to call myself an adult or a woman. i still fall back on being a child, girl, or "young lady." Even when i became a youth group leader, i could not own it. Although, the implications of continuing to avoid my reality. i must be a smart, healthy role model for the kids i am leading. And for myself.
Judy called my awareness with these words. "You are becoming the woman God intends you to be, planned you to be even before you came into existence. And you are finally valuing who you are and who you are becoming. No longer anesthetizing, or giving yourself away for cheap. You're owning your worth and living into your potential. It is fabulous and you are fabulous. Keep up the good work."
And so we realized that this whole process is my Christmas gift to myself. Emotional liberation and freedom. This darkness from my past is no longer can no longer darken my present, i can focus on the light of the moment.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Raw Reflection.
i had an affair with my psychiatrist when i was seventeen. It was intense and explosive and exhilarating. Being with him felt like perfection. He was sweet and gentle, he understood me. i felt powerful and important to have something in me that made this man risk the life he knew - wife, kids, career - just to be with me. When i was with him, all my incessant anxiety fell to the wayside. Our intimacy was entrancing. i loved him.
But, of course, it was unhealthy. And it ended horribly. i fell off the deep end. i thought he'd join join me for the spiral downward. He shocked me when he met me with criticism, blame, and a police intervention. i was devastated.
It took months to really have all the events sink in and register. Then another few months went by agonizing over him. But eventually, it passed. i remember the moment i realized a whole day carried on and i just focused on my life and my little tasks and i hadn't thought about him. Time went on and i made strides in my healing.
Now four years later i think i've done pretty well with myself. For having been obsessed with him, i barely think of him. About as much as any other painful memory.
But recently, a whole new, deeper layer is churning itself up. The pain is real and fresh, i feel vulnerable and fragile.
i stumbled across an old voicemail message from him. Yes, saved from 5 years ago. At first i saved it because it was cute and made me feel special. Then i continued to save it in case it would be of use while i reported him. Then it just stayed in my voicemailbox because i was avoiding it. i couldn't stand to hear his voice. The sound made my heart drop to my ass, and my eyes glaze over, and i'd need a minute to come back to reality.
Last week i decided it was time to get rid of it. i knew it'd be very difficult. i asked my therapist for help and we planned to do it in our next session. It was then that i had listened to the message in its entirety for the first time in years. i completely froze. She and i talked about its meaning - then and now. How it's detrimental to me now, but my hesitation to let go of it....
i had her sit next to me, we had to use her phone to get into my voicemail since my phone had died while we were talking. The message came back on and right when i heard his voice, i froze again - but this time with more dread. i asked her to press 7. Delete it. She insisted that i do it. But i shouted at her to just do it, and began to curl in on myself. She pressed 7, and hung up the phone. i heard her take a deep breath, call me brave, and tell me she was proud of me. But i could feel myself dissociating - hands wrapped on the back of my neck, face buried in my elbows, breathing getting irregular. i should have asked her for help re-grounding. But i didn't. Perhaps i was scared of her reaction, and i was just too overwhelmed by my old feelings, they had seized me. i began to hyperventilate. i faintly heard her protest, try to get me back, but i slipped into a dissociative episode. i stayed there for 15 minutes (it stayed neatly contained by the 45 and top-of-the-hour markers) and i came to exhausted and frazzled. We processed everything that had occurred. i had no clue he still had that hold over me.
My therapist connected my trauma with the psychiatrist to my trauma with my parents - how he not only was a friend and a lover, but a provider, comforter, mentor, protector. i never connected the two, and although i had initially scoffed at the notion, a couple moments of pondering it allowed it to make sense.
i hadn't received much tenderness from my parents, and as a child of divorce i was in need of extra. To protect myself, as a kid, i normalized what was happening in my life. i told myself it doesn't hurt because it just makes sense for it to be like this. The wound was covered. It festered for years. It was soothed occasionally by a vice-of-the-moment. The good doctor became one of them. The vices all became life-threatening issues. So much of my time was dedicated to basic stabilization. i wasn't able to reach down as deep as i needed to into my core to address this wound.
Until now. It's safe to delve into all this and really heal. And i'm feeling it all acutely. i've been fuzzy, dissociative, irritable, weepy, but i'm working through it. When i find myself getting caught up in feelings about the doctor... Well that's an issue in itself. i feel guilty for still having feelings about him. Like, there are a lot. i'll hate him, despise him, then miss him, and remember how, frankly, having him there for me kept me from killing myself many times. But he's such a sick bastard and abused his power and victimized a young fragile girl seeking his professional guidance and care, but... And i can barely stomach swinging between the extremes.
While there is legitimate trauma with him, it also mirrors another trauma. One i have yet to really deal with. My parents divorced when i was 3 and it caused a divide in me from the beginning of my life, make me feel like i was never whole. How could a toddler possibly deal with it? Just carry on. Don't pay it no mind. i did a rapid adapt.
It's finally coming to the surface after all these years.
The betrayal i feel from when the doctor just dropped and abandoned me is amplified by the unresolved pain of my dad's betrayal, leaving me and then staying distant. A semi-present father. When i miss the doctor, it's kind of like grieving my mom, so zombified by pain pills, and frenzied by OCD. i miss the connection and the tenderness. And with the whole lot of them, i never got the care i needed. i feel like a lost scared little girl, so sure there's something defective in her, sure she is worthless, and expecting to get hurt again soon.
It's a new struggle, and i'm keeping my support system close. i'm trying hard to go about my days as i usually do. i'm trying to stay focused on gratitude and hope. It's what got me through the previous years of hell, there's no reason why it shouldn't now.
But, of course, it was unhealthy. And it ended horribly. i fell off the deep end. i thought he'd join join me for the spiral downward. He shocked me when he met me with criticism, blame, and a police intervention. i was devastated.
It took months to really have all the events sink in and register. Then another few months went by agonizing over him. But eventually, it passed. i remember the moment i realized a whole day carried on and i just focused on my life and my little tasks and i hadn't thought about him. Time went on and i made strides in my healing.
Now four years later i think i've done pretty well with myself. For having been obsessed with him, i barely think of him. About as much as any other painful memory.
But recently, a whole new, deeper layer is churning itself up. The pain is real and fresh, i feel vulnerable and fragile.
i stumbled across an old voicemail message from him. Yes, saved from 5 years ago. At first i saved it because it was cute and made me feel special. Then i continued to save it in case it would be of use while i reported him. Then it just stayed in my voicemailbox because i was avoiding it. i couldn't stand to hear his voice. The sound made my heart drop to my ass, and my eyes glaze over, and i'd need a minute to come back to reality.
Last week i decided it was time to get rid of it. i knew it'd be very difficult. i asked my therapist for help and we planned to do it in our next session. It was then that i had listened to the message in its entirety for the first time in years. i completely froze. She and i talked about its meaning - then and now. How it's detrimental to me now, but my hesitation to let go of it....
i had her sit next to me, we had to use her phone to get into my voicemail since my phone had died while we were talking. The message came back on and right when i heard his voice, i froze again - but this time with more dread. i asked her to press 7. Delete it. She insisted that i do it. But i shouted at her to just do it, and began to curl in on myself. She pressed 7, and hung up the phone. i heard her take a deep breath, call me brave, and tell me she was proud of me. But i could feel myself dissociating - hands wrapped on the back of my neck, face buried in my elbows, breathing getting irregular. i should have asked her for help re-grounding. But i didn't. Perhaps i was scared of her reaction, and i was just too overwhelmed by my old feelings, they had seized me. i began to hyperventilate. i faintly heard her protest, try to get me back, but i slipped into a dissociative episode. i stayed there for 15 minutes (it stayed neatly contained by the 45 and top-of-the-hour markers) and i came to exhausted and frazzled. We processed everything that had occurred. i had no clue he still had that hold over me.
My therapist connected my trauma with the psychiatrist to my trauma with my parents - how he not only was a friend and a lover, but a provider, comforter, mentor, protector. i never connected the two, and although i had initially scoffed at the notion, a couple moments of pondering it allowed it to make sense.
i hadn't received much tenderness from my parents, and as a child of divorce i was in need of extra. To protect myself, as a kid, i normalized what was happening in my life. i told myself it doesn't hurt because it just makes sense for it to be like this. The wound was covered. It festered for years. It was soothed occasionally by a vice-of-the-moment. The good doctor became one of them. The vices all became life-threatening issues. So much of my time was dedicated to basic stabilization. i wasn't able to reach down as deep as i needed to into my core to address this wound.
Until now. It's safe to delve into all this and really heal. And i'm feeling it all acutely. i've been fuzzy, dissociative, irritable, weepy, but i'm working through it. When i find myself getting caught up in feelings about the doctor... Well that's an issue in itself. i feel guilty for still having feelings about him. Like, there are a lot. i'll hate him, despise him, then miss him, and remember how, frankly, having him there for me kept me from killing myself many times. But he's such a sick bastard and abused his power and victimized a young fragile girl seeking his professional guidance and care, but... And i can barely stomach swinging between the extremes.
While there is legitimate trauma with him, it also mirrors another trauma. One i have yet to really deal with. My parents divorced when i was 3 and it caused a divide in me from the beginning of my life, make me feel like i was never whole. How could a toddler possibly deal with it? Just carry on. Don't pay it no mind. i did a rapid adapt.
It's finally coming to the surface after all these years.
The betrayal i feel from when the doctor just dropped and abandoned me is amplified by the unresolved pain of my dad's betrayal, leaving me and then staying distant. A semi-present father. When i miss the doctor, it's kind of like grieving my mom, so zombified by pain pills, and frenzied by OCD. i miss the connection and the tenderness. And with the whole lot of them, i never got the care i needed. i feel like a lost scared little girl, so sure there's something defective in her, sure she is worthless, and expecting to get hurt again soon.
It's a new struggle, and i'm keeping my support system close. i'm trying hard to go about my days as i usually do. i'm trying to stay focused on gratitude and hope. It's what got me through the previous years of hell, there's no reason why it shouldn't now.
Unravelling
The October to March ride is a really tough one. Halloween marks the beginning of a dark time for me. Differing types of darknesses that layer upon each other. The rollercoaster intensifies for the next few months. i go through blinding agony, crippling anxiety, faltering hope, boiling anger, existential angst, sluggishness, confusion, but all, nevertheless, met with resilience. i make it through, and stronger for it too.
During halloween i am faced with family insanity. i mean i really do like the day. i love to dress up, i like spooky stuff, i dig the idea of the spirit world converging with that of human, i've got a helluva sweet tooth, i love celebrating with my baby sister. It can be really fun.
Where it comes apart is in our "adult" department.
It's become a tradition that trick or treating is a time to get smashed. Aunts, uncles, cousins gather in costume, preparing for the night. Big candy collecting bags, sweaters, sneakers, gloves, glow sticks. A stroller, rolling cooler, and purses filled with beer, vodka nips, and whiskey.
The kids carry on, far too caught up in halloween hype to notice the adults checking out, excitement is their babysitter for the night.
It makes me really sad. It wasn't always this way. My mom and aunt used to be really present to my brothercousin and me. But 8 years ago, priorities shifted, and they crumbled into the shitshow they are now.
Then comes Thanksgiving. This year was my first time trying to be everywhere with everyone, going from dad's house to mom's mom's house to boyfriend's parents and it was mostly just crazymaking with minimal enjoyability. i ended the day with regret and what-ifs and if-onlys and had to really work to pick out the silver linings from the tumultuous day.
Nights are here earlier. i've been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder. i miss the sunlight a lot.
The most wonderful time of the year? From March to mid December i tell myself i love Christmas. But halfway through December i'm burdened by expectation (put on me and what i put on others), hopes, doubts, discontent. A few years ago, i flat out absolutely hated holiday time. A mentor of mine advised me to list things i found, when i really dug around, that i liked that only holiday time could bring around, so that i didn't friggin kill myself through a particularly difficult year's journey and year's end. It softened me, and i ended up completely coming around, but i still feel smacked around by the stress and lofty wishes and lost meaning.
Then i'm tasked to have fun and stay optimistic and sober through the New Year celebration.
Meanwhile through all this, an old trauma is rearing its ugly head. Something i thought i put to rest a long time ago. But a new deeper layer is emerging and it's making me raw and vulnerable during an already existing terribly stressful time.
But my resilience has been proven, and piece by piece i see things falling into place, however minor it may be. i've become adept at grabbing at those silver linings through the turmoil. i know i'll make it through. It just really sucks to be in this place right now.
During halloween i am faced with family insanity. i mean i really do like the day. i love to dress up, i like spooky stuff, i dig the idea of the spirit world converging with that of human, i've got a helluva sweet tooth, i love celebrating with my baby sister. It can be really fun.
Where it comes apart is in our "adult" department.
It's become a tradition that trick or treating is a time to get smashed. Aunts, uncles, cousins gather in costume, preparing for the night. Big candy collecting bags, sweaters, sneakers, gloves, glow sticks. A stroller, rolling cooler, and purses filled with beer, vodka nips, and whiskey.
The kids carry on, far too caught up in halloween hype to notice the adults checking out, excitement is their babysitter for the night.
It makes me really sad. It wasn't always this way. My mom and aunt used to be really present to my brothercousin and me. But 8 years ago, priorities shifted, and they crumbled into the shitshow they are now.
Then comes Thanksgiving. This year was my first time trying to be everywhere with everyone, going from dad's house to mom's mom's house to boyfriend's parents and it was mostly just crazymaking with minimal enjoyability. i ended the day with regret and what-ifs and if-onlys and had to really work to pick out the silver linings from the tumultuous day.
Nights are here earlier. i've been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder. i miss the sunlight a lot.
The most wonderful time of the year? From March to mid December i tell myself i love Christmas. But halfway through December i'm burdened by expectation (put on me and what i put on others), hopes, doubts, discontent. A few years ago, i flat out absolutely hated holiday time. A mentor of mine advised me to list things i found, when i really dug around, that i liked that only holiday time could bring around, so that i didn't friggin kill myself through a particularly difficult year's journey and year's end. It softened me, and i ended up completely coming around, but i still feel smacked around by the stress and lofty wishes and lost meaning.
Then i'm tasked to have fun and stay optimistic and sober through the New Year celebration.
Meanwhile through all this, an old trauma is rearing its ugly head. Something i thought i put to rest a long time ago. But a new deeper layer is emerging and it's making me raw and vulnerable during an already existing terribly stressful time.
But my resilience has been proven, and piece by piece i see things falling into place, however minor it may be. i've become adept at grabbing at those silver linings through the turmoil. i know i'll make it through. It just really sucks to be in this place right now.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Groggy
i've been struggling to finish a post. i've drafted a few, i completing and publishing has just been beyond me.
Halloween threw me for a loop. It always does. i love the day and look forward to it, and anticipate celebrating it. Then comes trick or treating and i remember that as all the cousins gather for the candy collecting trek, the aunts and uncles are packing strollers, rolling coolers, and purses full of beer, vodka nips, and whiskey and get smashed as we go on.
It's something that's deeply saddened me for the last few years.
i carried on, going through my days with this groggy lowness. i caught a cold, fought it for a couple weeks, now i'm muddling through bronchitis.
Messes are piling up, stress of finances is weighing me down. i keep reminding to just move forward one step, one breath, at a time.
Halloween threw me for a loop. It always does. i love the day and look forward to it, and anticipate celebrating it. Then comes trick or treating and i remember that as all the cousins gather for the candy collecting trek, the aunts and uncles are packing strollers, rolling coolers, and purses full of beer, vodka nips, and whiskey and get smashed as we go on.
It's something that's deeply saddened me for the last few years.
i carried on, going through my days with this groggy lowness. i caught a cold, fought it for a couple weeks, now i'm muddling through bronchitis.
Messes are piling up, stress of finances is weighing me down. i keep reminding to just move forward one step, one breath, at a time.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Jumpy
i was just thrown a really good lesson in not jumping to conclusions. The time i spend so anxious about so many things is so counterproductive. And yet i still get tangled up in it. My first go-to is self criticism. The habit that started at about age 11, and the grooves are set deep in my brain. As much as i try to forge new paths, that well beaten path is where i tread. But i can't just resign myself to fruitless anxieties and self deprecation. i need to keep redirecting my thought and energies to optimism, acceptance, solution, and hope, until it becomes as natural as the old mindset. i'm currently in between the two. What had transpired at work was certainly confirmation to keep on doing the head-work i am.
The way i came into my position at the company was rather unexpected and quick. A teacher had put in her 2 weeks, i was in the middle of my training, i was the only plausible candidate to take her place. They still had a choice in asking me to fill that role, and when they did i was thrilled. i felt honored that they trusted me enough to ask this of me, and excited about the opportunities that were laying themselves out. They expedited the rest of my training, then threw me in. i certainly hadn't absorbed everything i needed to, i mean you could train for 6 months and still not feel adequately prepared, but i had most the basics and still a lot of help from the other teachers around me.
Being new in a craft is awkward, and there's a lot of stumbling, and so much to absorb. Just by natural wiring, i am very hard on myself. i tend to think lowly of myself and have a pervasive fear of inadequacy. However, i am also naturally good with kids, have a strong understanding of the mechanics of swimming, and apparently am inherently sweet and likable. These things make the job easier, and actually quite fun. Aside from that, though, i want so badly to be a good teacher to these kids. i want to know the skills thoroughly so i can explain to them new things and watch them learn and grow. i fear failing them.
In one of my classes, it's a nice bunch of bouncy happy 3 and 4 year olds. i love them. One day, two girls bounced right off the steps while i was working individually, they were in over their heads and tried to use each other to propel themselves back. They were drowning. It happened in a split moment that my eyes were on the boy i was floating with, so i was alerted to it by the shrieking of their mothers. i scooped them up, brought them back to the steps, and made sure they were okay. i drove home the of waiting patiently and safely on the steps for their turn. The rest of the class was fine, we were still learning and having fun, while also internalizing that lesson of patience & managing energy (for the kids) and class management (for me). i was a little shaken up, of course. One of the moms (her daughter had been on the steps during that incident) had comforted me, saying i handled it all in the best way, those girls were pushing the limits, the moms are a bit uppity, everything was fine. i was happy to hear that feedback.
The following week, that girl shows up in a different class. i lifeguard during this time. They smiled and waved to me, i did the same back, but i was very confused. i ran through in my head everything that'd happened in that class, then what mom had said after the girls' drinky time. They seemed happy with me. i convinced myself it was just a front, the family acted sweet but they secretly hated me, and i was doing a "good job" but not good enough for them so they went to another class with a better teacher. i watched the class holding back tears, feeling i'll never be a good teacher, all my kids would leave me, i'll fuck up the company and be banned for life.
After the class, the sweet little girl came up to me and gave me a hug. The mom explained that her gymnastics teacher just graduated her to a new level, and they were really sad to be missing my class, but happy they'd at least see me guarding. The relief practically slapped me in the face. i had been torturing myself for the 30 minute duration of the class. Like, okay, it's not all about me - i'm not the piece of shit the world revolves around (damn being an ego-maniac with an inferiority complex), everyone's got other stuff going on, people generally understand my learning curve as a new teacher and wish me well. i stepped back, i laughed at myself, and was able to be kinder and softer for a while after that.
i jumped the gun in a way that could be pretty destructive to me. i'm happy it was so promptly shut down. i've been carrying this lesson with me, really trying hard to remember people are generally good, staying right-sized and knowing my place in a system, i'm okay - not the bane of everyone's existence nor the sole source of sunshine. Just a worker among worker and friend among friends. There's a lot to learn for my job, and i'm learning pretty quickly. i have fun at work, have fabulous coworkers and bosses, i'm reaping wonderful experiences, i'm in a really good place in my life - especially after everything i've been through.
Key phrase: Take everything in stride and stay rooted in gratitude.
The way i came into my position at the company was rather unexpected and quick. A teacher had put in her 2 weeks, i was in the middle of my training, i was the only plausible candidate to take her place. They still had a choice in asking me to fill that role, and when they did i was thrilled. i felt honored that they trusted me enough to ask this of me, and excited about the opportunities that were laying themselves out. They expedited the rest of my training, then threw me in. i certainly hadn't absorbed everything i needed to, i mean you could train for 6 months and still not feel adequately prepared, but i had most the basics and still a lot of help from the other teachers around me.
Being new in a craft is awkward, and there's a lot of stumbling, and so much to absorb. Just by natural wiring, i am very hard on myself. i tend to think lowly of myself and have a pervasive fear of inadequacy. However, i am also naturally good with kids, have a strong understanding of the mechanics of swimming, and apparently am inherently sweet and likable. These things make the job easier, and actually quite fun. Aside from that, though, i want so badly to be a good teacher to these kids. i want to know the skills thoroughly so i can explain to them new things and watch them learn and grow. i fear failing them.
In one of my classes, it's a nice bunch of bouncy happy 3 and 4 year olds. i love them. One day, two girls bounced right off the steps while i was working individually, they were in over their heads and tried to use each other to propel themselves back. They were drowning. It happened in a split moment that my eyes were on the boy i was floating with, so i was alerted to it by the shrieking of their mothers. i scooped them up, brought them back to the steps, and made sure they were okay. i drove home the of waiting patiently and safely on the steps for their turn. The rest of the class was fine, we were still learning and having fun, while also internalizing that lesson of patience & managing energy (for the kids) and class management (for me). i was a little shaken up, of course. One of the moms (her daughter had been on the steps during that incident) had comforted me, saying i handled it all in the best way, those girls were pushing the limits, the moms are a bit uppity, everything was fine. i was happy to hear that feedback.
The following week, that girl shows up in a different class. i lifeguard during this time. They smiled and waved to me, i did the same back, but i was very confused. i ran through in my head everything that'd happened in that class, then what mom had said after the girls' drinky time. They seemed happy with me. i convinced myself it was just a front, the family acted sweet but they secretly hated me, and i was doing a "good job" but not good enough for them so they went to another class with a better teacher. i watched the class holding back tears, feeling i'll never be a good teacher, all my kids would leave me, i'll fuck up the company and be banned for life.
After the class, the sweet little girl came up to me and gave me a hug. The mom explained that her gymnastics teacher just graduated her to a new level, and they were really sad to be missing my class, but happy they'd at least see me guarding. The relief practically slapped me in the face. i had been torturing myself for the 30 minute duration of the class. Like, okay, it's not all about me - i'm not the piece of shit the world revolves around (damn being an ego-maniac with an inferiority complex), everyone's got other stuff going on, people generally understand my learning curve as a new teacher and wish me well. i stepped back, i laughed at myself, and was able to be kinder and softer for a while after that.
i jumped the gun in a way that could be pretty destructive to me. i'm happy it was so promptly shut down. i've been carrying this lesson with me, really trying hard to remember people are generally good, staying right-sized and knowing my place in a system, i'm okay - not the bane of everyone's existence nor the sole source of sunshine. Just a worker among worker and friend among friends. There's a lot to learn for my job, and i'm learning pretty quickly. i have fun at work, have fabulous coworkers and bosses, i'm reaping wonderful experiences, i'm in a really good place in my life - especially after everything i've been through.
Key phrase: Take everything in stride and stay rooted in gratitude.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Timing and Places
Anniversaries are funny times. It seems many people get a little restless, squirmy, squirrely. i get that too, but mostly for me, anniversaries cue reflection and acknowledgement of growth. Sometimes celebration, sometimes just a quiet knowing.
On October 17th in 2008 i began my journey of sober living. i remember the conscious decision i made that i was tired of living in misery and wanted to change. i accepted that drug use was prolonging my misery and it had to stop. It was the first of my 4 addictions to go, and it really paved the way for my whole recovery. AA became my saving grace, the meetings were like a hug for my brain, my wheels could stop spinning and i could listen to people who felt my struggles and rose above them. i found people who wanted to help me, they began to love me back to health, they genuinely wished me well and wanted to help me succeed.
The cutting calmed down about 2 years later, the eating disorder a little after that, with many slips and relapses. The sex addiction expressed itself in waves, and finally lost its grip completely when i found someone worth being monogamous for a year ago. Sometimes i wonder if i should claim sobriety for as long as i do, since i had this myriad of active addiction. But putting down using and working AA is what gave me a fighting chance with the rest of my disease. Without that piece first, i'd have been a goner for sure.
i have a pretty good understanding of my mental illness. i don't necessarily have a name for it, but i don't need one. i stay focused on the solution.
i don't buy into the stigma against mental illness. i used to feel the backlash of how our society operates with it. But worrying about that is not worth my energy. i've learned the people who judge me negatively for what i've been through are not the type of people i want to be around. i seek out people to have reciprocal fulfilling relationships with. And actually, they abound. More people than not understand, and are happy to hear of my strength and resilience.
So i'm pretty open with past and current struggles. Risking being real with people, more often than not, is way more rewarding than superficial interactions. It offers a certain hope and encouragement, i think.
The best thing about when i share about my strides, and anniversaries, on Facebook is not the 'likes' or the comments (although i do quite enjoy that), but when someone messages me, inspired by what i shared, and asks for help.
i met with a girl the other day who's been struggling to get clean. Her addiction's got a pretty good hold on her, and she's trying her damnedest. So we just talked. Most importantly, we connected. i feel that's the key to recovery. Connecting, relating, working with people who understand and want to build you up. That's certainly what did it for me, and i hear so many others express the same thing. So i did that for her. And we're gonna spend time together, and i really believe, a little at a time, things will click for her and she'll get it. She'll be able to live sober.
We all get better with the help of a community. i know mine was quite large and worked very hard to help me. i came back from a really deep dark pit. But here i am and my life is piecing together and i'm doing pretty well. Without others carrying me on for a bit, i couldn't have made it. So i'm really honored when i can be a part of someone's helping community.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Build Up After A Breakdown
My breakdowns are still rather frequent. My intense emotions leave my composure fragile. And i'm still doing a lot of work to build up my esteem, confidence, critical thinking, and interdependence (rather than just dependence). It's not that i'm weak (though catch me in a particular moment and i'd say i am), but it's a struggle for me to not get caught up in the anxiety of uncertainty, or catastrophize horrible scenarios, or berate myself. i can spend hours in a day worrying about someone i love getting hurt, someone i love not liking me anymore, not being good at my job, being cornered, being lost. Historically, everything works out. Sometimes with no correlation to how much energy i expend.
My main focus should be accepting things the way they are, and trusting that i will always be able to move forward. No matter how badly i want to change certain things about my life, some things are just meant to be. i may writhe in discomfort about my crowded apartment in a seedy neighborhood with mounting messes, but it's much better than the chaotic dysfunctional home i came from. i'm starting a life with my wonderful, devoted, determined, passionate boyfriend, and our current home works with our finances right now, and our roommates are our friends, and we're learning to manage our messes, budgets, and routines, before we can move on to some fancier living. It's not my ideal, but it's completely appropriate for this point in our lives.
We both feel a bit held back by difficult families, and are trying to balance time with them and building ourselves up. We've both felt burdened by our parents and had to do a lot of work to dig ourselves out of the holes we were in. We've both grown a lot, but our ties remain because Ilya's parents still rely on him heavily due to their language barrier, and my parents still just have a great emotional hold on me. Most times when i start to unravel it has to do with a spat with mom, or dad's disapproval, or the unfairness of my sister's childhood, or how little i get to see my brother. The layers of turmoil i've felt with my family are deep, and rather easily activated. Try as i might to stay detached, level headed, focused, and hopeful, i can still be reduced to a whimpering puddle. i have a strong sense of how i think things should be, and i feel hurt when those expectations don't play themselves out. Never mind i've never even had the experience of things going the way i plan. Sometimes i suffer through disappointment, sometimes reality puts my dreams to shame. i don't know why i bother to have expectations at all.
But no matter how i fall apart, i am always provided with a means to put myself back together.
So, my most recent breakdown happened at work, kind of a scary place to become so vulnerable. The fortitude of my composure had been tested by an argument with my mother and grandmother, feeling the heaviness of being the one who shows up for my sister (this time for a school event), general feelings of anxiety, low self worth, and doubt, a therapy session right before work, and then rounds of high energy, loud, sweet, adorable, exhausting kids to teach and one particularly high stress incident. i couldn't find it in me to wait til i got home to start crying. Thankfully, my boss is a compassionate thoughtful woman, and took me into her office so i could let it out, talk a bit, and recompose myself. Once i stopped blubbering, i spilled to her a bit about where i come from - the pain of my mom's addiction, my rocky adolescence with hospital & boarding school intervention, the intense worry i have for my sister, some guilt for having my own stable fruitful life, but ultimately the strength and hope i posses that is clearly immutable. She listened very well, expressed sympathy for my hardship, told me that she sees a light in me, spotted it the first time we met, is excited to have me as part of the team, and wants to help bring out that light even more.
i'm very grateful for this moment with her, but it also puts me in the position i need to be very careful with. i need to stay professional, watch my boundaries, and check my transference with maternal-figure boss, lest i jeopardize my great standing with the company. i love my job, i love what i do, i love that the staff all feel like friends, and i would hate to lose it.
So i'm learning and growing from all this, and the key is really to just leave my past in the past, drop my baggage, don't bring it anywhere new. i need to stay aware and grateful of the things in my life that are reliable and joyful, and keep it simple - otherwise i'll reawaken the incessant yearning for more. More excitement, more attention, more validation, more love. That type of never feeling whole that led me to dive head first into the spiral of self destruction and ruled my life for years. i will not go back. i know the simple acts to maintain a defense against it, and every day i must follow through with at least one.
My main focus should be accepting things the way they are, and trusting that i will always be able to move forward. No matter how badly i want to change certain things about my life, some things are just meant to be. i may writhe in discomfort about my crowded apartment in a seedy neighborhood with mounting messes, but it's much better than the chaotic dysfunctional home i came from. i'm starting a life with my wonderful, devoted, determined, passionate boyfriend, and our current home works with our finances right now, and our roommates are our friends, and we're learning to manage our messes, budgets, and routines, before we can move on to some fancier living. It's not my ideal, but it's completely appropriate for this point in our lives.
We both feel a bit held back by difficult families, and are trying to balance time with them and building ourselves up. We've both felt burdened by our parents and had to do a lot of work to dig ourselves out of the holes we were in. We've both grown a lot, but our ties remain because Ilya's parents still rely on him heavily due to their language barrier, and my parents still just have a great emotional hold on me. Most times when i start to unravel it has to do with a spat with mom, or dad's disapproval, or the unfairness of my sister's childhood, or how little i get to see my brother. The layers of turmoil i've felt with my family are deep, and rather easily activated. Try as i might to stay detached, level headed, focused, and hopeful, i can still be reduced to a whimpering puddle. i have a strong sense of how i think things should be, and i feel hurt when those expectations don't play themselves out. Never mind i've never even had the experience of things going the way i plan. Sometimes i suffer through disappointment, sometimes reality puts my dreams to shame. i don't know why i bother to have expectations at all.
But no matter how i fall apart, i am always provided with a means to put myself back together.
So, my most recent breakdown happened at work, kind of a scary place to become so vulnerable. The fortitude of my composure had been tested by an argument with my mother and grandmother, feeling the heaviness of being the one who shows up for my sister (this time for a school event), general feelings of anxiety, low self worth, and doubt, a therapy session right before work, and then rounds of high energy, loud, sweet, adorable, exhausting kids to teach and one particularly high stress incident. i couldn't find it in me to wait til i got home to start crying. Thankfully, my boss is a compassionate thoughtful woman, and took me into her office so i could let it out, talk a bit, and recompose myself. Once i stopped blubbering, i spilled to her a bit about where i come from - the pain of my mom's addiction, my rocky adolescence with hospital & boarding school intervention, the intense worry i have for my sister, some guilt for having my own stable fruitful life, but ultimately the strength and hope i posses that is clearly immutable. She listened very well, expressed sympathy for my hardship, told me that she sees a light in me, spotted it the first time we met, is excited to have me as part of the team, and wants to help bring out that light even more.
i'm very grateful for this moment with her, but it also puts me in the position i need to be very careful with. i need to stay professional, watch my boundaries, and check my transference with maternal-figure boss, lest i jeopardize my great standing with the company. i love my job, i love what i do, i love that the staff all feel like friends, and i would hate to lose it.
So i'm learning and growing from all this, and the key is really to just leave my past in the past, drop my baggage, don't bring it anywhere new. i need to stay aware and grateful of the things in my life that are reliable and joyful, and keep it simple - otherwise i'll reawaken the incessant yearning for more. More excitement, more attention, more validation, more love. That type of never feeling whole that led me to dive head first into the spiral of self destruction and ruled my life for years. i will not go back. i know the simple acts to maintain a defense against it, and every day i must follow through with at least one.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Getting that Satisfaction
Conflicting desires. One of the core, one of an insidious malady. My core craves wholeness, enjoys the simple pleasures - being grounded in the moment, basic needs being met, connection to other human beings. My disease is a sensationalist - always in search of an addictive vice, trying to achieve numbness, getting caught up in excitement, shock, anger, melancholy. They take turns sitting in the center of my mind. i vacillate from gratitude to discontent, awareness of every little gift in my life to flailing to fill a perceived emptiness.
This dichotomy holds the reigns of my life and i feel a mess. i struggle with consistency and stability.
i had a meeting the other night that totally smashed the complacency i've been riding recently. i'm completely in the habit of not drinking or using, and generally abstaining from self-destruction. i haven't really had to work on that piece, or even put much thought into it. My life is good today, especially when compared to my past. i forget pretty easily how miserable i was. how dependent i was on my vices just to get through a day. i get a random craving occasionally, and i find myself romanticizing those old days a bit: so impressed and proud when i could go 4 days without eating, denying a fundamental human need feeling stronger to be above it, high on control...; reveling in the relief that washed over me as a sharp tool drove through my skin, my anguish was cleaned up and thrown out with those bloody tissues...; escaping effortlessly with drugs, taking me out of myself, reconstructing the moment, feeling badass...; taking solace in promiscuity, after rape had left its impression in me, getting stuck in trying to redo that encounter, to reclaim the power i was robbed of, to use another as i had been, to know i was irresistible, and rework my beliefs of sex....
They all crossed over beautifully, too. i loved restricting while smoking pot - the strength to deny those munchies amplified my highs. A man's rough hands caressing my ribs while riding him sent me into fits of ecstasy. Forcing vomiting helped me give better blowjobs. Cutting after a bad fuck wiped a gross slate clean. Cutting after snorting oxy got me intense mellow. Coke kept me skinny and peppy, i was on top of the world. Sex got me free drugs. Oh, what a system i had. My reality was the web of these addictions. My entire being circled around them. If someone were to identify me by any of these, i was glad. Despite everything that should have been natural, i thrived on self destruction.
But now it feels like a different person who lived those days.
Though i still feel her inside me, because i can look back on that time fondly, almost like i miss it. i suppose it's because immersing myself in that chaos is was kept me alive for so long. From age 12 i was fixated on suicide, but i kept getting sidetracked from making a plan and executing, since, well, i'd have to go cop, or go write out some new food rules, or go dissect a shaving razor to etch in relief, or go eat a little something just to force it back up and out. If i wasn't perpetually nagged by addiction, it became relentless, it was like being under a tyrant, but otherwise i sincerely could have been dead and gone.
Because it (they) so effectively served many a purpose, it's easier to romanticize. i minimize how it wrecked my health, how deeply and thoroughly i hated myself, how adamantly i believed i did not deserve to live and was obligated to kill myself. i've worked so hard to climb out of the dark trenches i dwelled in for so long. Some days in full combat - ceasing the behavior, stopping negative thoughts to change them to accepting encouraging ones, reading uplifting literature, talking to people who cared about me, my life, my wellbeing, praying to a God who created me, loves me, and has purpose and plans for me. Other days were full of sulking, sadness naps, angsty journaling, questioning God, complaining about how hard it was to try to change. But i trudged through, kept waking up day after day, i rode the rollercoaster of my whacked emotions, time did its thing. Amazing changes happened. The difference is so night and day. i'm not sure if i could find the one tipping point, strides were made every so often and they built on each other until i got so used to walking on my own i forgot how much was done to pick me up from the pit i was drowning in and carry me on.
My troubles today are not life or death matters. i have some debt, i occasionally worry about the people i love, i want to be productive responsible reliable and amicable at work, i need to clean more. That's basically it. Sometimes i do get caught up in anxiety, and then i feel my disease reaching out to me again....
i much prefer to live my days now rooted in my core, aware of and grateful for everything, riding out some discomfort and knowing that it'll pass and keeping myself from giving in to vice. When i think i'm bored and start to look for some excitement, i just gotta come back to myself and think about which source of craving i want to satisfy. If i satisfy vice, i awaken a tyrant that will always demand more and more from me, push me to compromise my values for a fix, and destroy me, til i hate myself to terribly again. If i satisfy my true self, that of light and love, i will be built up, i will keep all the many gifts i have and still more will be brought, i'll have wonderful relationships, i can help others struggling through the darkness. i'll be stable and content.
This dichotomy holds the reigns of my life and i feel a mess. i struggle with consistency and stability.
i had a meeting the other night that totally smashed the complacency i've been riding recently. i'm completely in the habit of not drinking or using, and generally abstaining from self-destruction. i haven't really had to work on that piece, or even put much thought into it. My life is good today, especially when compared to my past. i forget pretty easily how miserable i was. how dependent i was on my vices just to get through a day. i get a random craving occasionally, and i find myself romanticizing those old days a bit: so impressed and proud when i could go 4 days without eating, denying a fundamental human need feeling stronger to be above it, high on control...; reveling in the relief that washed over me as a sharp tool drove through my skin, my anguish was cleaned up and thrown out with those bloody tissues...; escaping effortlessly with drugs, taking me out of myself, reconstructing the moment, feeling badass...; taking solace in promiscuity, after rape had left its impression in me, getting stuck in trying to redo that encounter, to reclaim the power i was robbed of, to use another as i had been, to know i was irresistible, and rework my beliefs of sex....
They all crossed over beautifully, too. i loved restricting while smoking pot - the strength to deny those munchies amplified my highs. A man's rough hands caressing my ribs while riding him sent me into fits of ecstasy. Forcing vomiting helped me give better blowjobs. Cutting after a bad fuck wiped a gross slate clean. Cutting after snorting oxy got me intense mellow. Coke kept me skinny and peppy, i was on top of the world. Sex got me free drugs. Oh, what a system i had. My reality was the web of these addictions. My entire being circled around them. If someone were to identify me by any of these, i was glad. Despite everything that should have been natural, i thrived on self destruction.
But now it feels like a different person who lived those days.
Though i still feel her inside me, because i can look back on that time fondly, almost like i miss it. i suppose it's because immersing myself in that chaos is was kept me alive for so long. From age 12 i was fixated on suicide, but i kept getting sidetracked from making a plan and executing, since, well, i'd have to go cop, or go write out some new food rules, or go dissect a shaving razor to etch in relief, or go eat a little something just to force it back up and out. If i wasn't perpetually nagged by addiction, it became relentless, it was like being under a tyrant, but otherwise i sincerely could have been dead and gone.
Because it (they) so effectively served many a purpose, it's easier to romanticize. i minimize how it wrecked my health, how deeply and thoroughly i hated myself, how adamantly i believed i did not deserve to live and was obligated to kill myself. i've worked so hard to climb out of the dark trenches i dwelled in for so long. Some days in full combat - ceasing the behavior, stopping negative thoughts to change them to accepting encouraging ones, reading uplifting literature, talking to people who cared about me, my life, my wellbeing, praying to a God who created me, loves me, and has purpose and plans for me. Other days were full of sulking, sadness naps, angsty journaling, questioning God, complaining about how hard it was to try to change. But i trudged through, kept waking up day after day, i rode the rollercoaster of my whacked emotions, time did its thing. Amazing changes happened. The difference is so night and day. i'm not sure if i could find the one tipping point, strides were made every so often and they built on each other until i got so used to walking on my own i forgot how much was done to pick me up from the pit i was drowning in and carry me on.
My troubles today are not life or death matters. i have some debt, i occasionally worry about the people i love, i want to be productive responsible reliable and amicable at work, i need to clean more. That's basically it. Sometimes i do get caught up in anxiety, and then i feel my disease reaching out to me again....
i much prefer to live my days now rooted in my core, aware of and grateful for everything, riding out some discomfort and knowing that it'll pass and keeping myself from giving in to vice. When i think i'm bored and start to look for some excitement, i just gotta come back to myself and think about which source of craving i want to satisfy. If i satisfy vice, i awaken a tyrant that will always demand more and more from me, push me to compromise my values for a fix, and destroy me, til i hate myself to terribly again. If i satisfy my true self, that of light and love, i will be built up, i will keep all the many gifts i have and still more will be brought, i'll have wonderful relationships, i can help others struggling through the darkness. i'll be stable and content.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Intent.
For a while i've hung my hat on the fact that i'm a sober drug addict, readjusted anorexic, healed cutter, depression&anxiety warrior, sex addict/abuse survivor in a happy monogamous relationship, rising up against extreme family dysfunction... i had gotten cozy with almost every malady in the DSM IV and made it through incessant suicidality. While it is quite fabulous that i sustained so much strength, i cannot say all my work is done. There are still so many areas of my life that have been dwarfed while more pressing matters took my attention and energy.
i feel i'm working with a significant deficit in trying to stabilize my life. From ages 12-17, my focus was the classic to-be-or-not-to-be (with no thanks to Shakespeare, just my own biology). Grades took a back seat, i ended up spending more time in hospitals and treatment centers than school. My clinicians may or may not have taken better care of me than my parents. The lack of support i had in a non-clinical environment (i still have trouble calling it "home") made it rather impossible to be successful. My gratitude for the two years i spent in residential therapy/ boarding school is immense, it shaped me into a strong, aware, level headed, determined young woman, who from there would finish senior year in public high school and complete college applications and resumes and essays and maybe even mainstream....
i was accepted into my dream school, and what a crushing blow it was when finances prevented me living that dream. i made so many goals and plans to get to a beautiful life i had imagined. It felt like someone captured my image and threw it in the fire. i took that opportunity to relapse with some choice unhealthy behaviors. But of course, cue intervention, and i was put back on a better path. i had tried community college but i sabotaged it. With the help of a fairy godmother i acquired a lifeguard certificate and started working and that opened the door to the job i have now.
i happen to absolutely love my job. i got involved with a facility that is pioneering a more comprehensive way of teaching swimming and i truly admire and believe in them. i thoroughly enjoy everyone i work with and for, the children are absurdly cute, and watching everyone learn and grow is such a gift.
Right now i need to balance my past with my present. i'm so used to carrying the heaviness of what was with me everywhere i went, be it school, job, with friends, with self. But i've been in recovery for a solid 6 years now and i can choose to leave it behind and forge a new path for a new self.
My problem is that i'm so used to being acknowledged for what a hard trek i've had, how amazing it is that i've come so far, people telling me i'm so strong, so smart and wise, so graceful, an inspiration, swelling my pride and stroking my ego. i forget that i have to be responsible, complete tasks, follow a routine (at least some semblance of one) if i want to be mildly successful. i get lazy, i want things handed to me, i want to indulge, i like naps, the internet, and putzing around. The mess of my room is appalling. i'm just beginning to try to figure out the puzzle of laundry. i waste money on weird things. Emotions still trip me up. My therapist and i are on a texting basis. In some ways i still feel like that lost little girl, though comparatively my life now is pleasant and mild. But i did not work so hard in recovery to settle for mediocre, unfulfilling, head-just-above-the-water living. Since the one image went up in flames, i created a new one, and i have a couple back ups, and maybe i'll just do it all. i still have a lot of goals and plans and getting through this first part of my life is showing me what i'm capable of for the future.
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