Pulling Teeth

I am grateful for opportunities to re-assess my expectations. It's like pulling teeth, saying this.

I'm in the midst of unpleasant situations at work that have me wondering about the crappiness of people's motivations. This is in a professional realm that purports to be about doing good, and still greed and egos are everywhere. I want to take everyone's inventory. And then I want to mail it to them with the best parts highlighted in yellow.

To deal with this without making myself feel like a tar-filled balloon, I have to return to two things I've drifted away from. Prayer and meditation. These are hard things; I think in Al-Anon I have a tendency to believe that thinking about prayer, or saying you are going to pray is as good as actually doing it. When I again reach the realization that this is not the case, I weigh myself down with guilt and "shoulds" which allows me to avoid prayer and meditation even more.

Somewhere along the way, I've started to think of contact with my higher power as an act of "plugging in." I can feel it when it's happening. Cultivating it without guilt may be the way to let go of some of my panicked feeling in the face of challenges. That and gratitude, which is a chore when I try to practice it without this feeling of being connected to a force of good.

See here we are:

I am grateful for the supportive people at work.

I am grateful for my boyfriend: my partner.

I am grateful for our cat and our dog and their attitudes.

I am grateful for reminders to return to the love of my higher power, though these reminders often feel destabilizing.

Strange

My therapist has tried to guide me away from using the word "strange" to describe complex emotions. I think this is important in taking an honest inventory of myself and my character defects.

I have idolized many people in authority, thinking that they had very few human flaws. Realizing that other people have the same human defects that I do is "strange."

This word hides a lot. In this case, it hides a feeling of disappointment, followed by the beginning of a deep sense of gratitude for our equality. I'm not sure what comes next.

When I try to hold on too hard to one feeling, I find my perception gets distorted. "Strange" is a word I use when I'm scared, but it's also a word I use when I feel like I'm letting go of something I could otherwise try to control.

I'm going to reflect on this more.

Attigratitude

I am grateful that I do not have to prove myself.

Hungry Babies

Great post by Mr. Sponsorpants.

The hardest thing to change

When I was a teenager and thought I knew stuff, I used to say "the hardest thing to change is an association." I'm not sure where I got this from. I probably overheard it and connected to it because of the feelings I could get from hearing a certain song or smelling a certain smell; those kind of muggy feelings that are comforting without being happy. The phrase might have meant something because I was so detached from my experiences as a kid that they all took the form of songs or sounds or smells rather than full memories or feelings.

Today, I'm compelled to think that the hardest thing to get over is self-righteousness. I can look to my growing up for the roots of some of this, too. Though I did my own version of rebelling, I never was allowed to get angry in my family, and had no means of separating my identity from the identities of my family members. Someone mentioned at a meeting recently that one of the products of codependency is confusion, and in the midst of that confusion, I did what made sense at the time. I watched a lot of sitcoms, read books, tried to connect with other confused people, smoked pot and kept my mouth shut. And I dreamed of what I wanted and didn't say a word about how angry I was, how right I was sure I was, and how wrong I was sure everything and everyone around me was. That added self-righteousness and, with it, self-injury, to the confusion.

My recovery is often not graceful. I find myself acting like a frustrated teenager, with heaps of self-righteousness falling out of me before I can catch them. Years ago this would have been average behavior, but it's not so excusable when it's coming from someone otherwise considered an adult. I'm not gentle with myself about this, yet; I think because that gentleness requires a vulnerability that self-righteousness doesn't allow.  I try to give things to my higher power and then I try to take them back. I try, and I succeed. I try, and I mess up. I feel better when I think in ones: first things first, one day at a time.

Needs

I've had several good conversations about needs recently; particularly the need to be loved. Early on, I came to conclusion that the best way of coping with not having my needs met was to stop having needs. Physical, emotional and sexual needs just became things I would not entertain. And I reached a tentative peace with this, like being set on ice and made to stop for the benefit of others. What I see now is that while I was trying to preserve everyone from dealing with my needs, I wasn't present to really interact with anyone. Whenever someone took one step towards me, I took one step back, in order to avoid what I once believed was the inevitable conclusion: disappointment. It's hard to shed this urge to withdraw; it's hard to believe that there is any other way to feel safe. The expectation that embracing yourself will bring immediate warmth and a sense of purpose is another expectation that won't be met. It's the process that makes it possible. The process is anxiety-producing, but knowing that I've felt a different kind of life is enough to keep me moving toward it.

Snooze Towers

Wow.

Flute-Playing Goats

What I learned today:

My negative expectations of people's response to me has much more to do with me than with them.

It's great to laugh at things that a few months ago would have made me go three rounds with myself in my head.

Irritability does not last forever.

Trust my instincts when I feel like my boundaries are being crossed.

Picasso painted flute-playing goats at Antibes. I saw a picture on the wall at the doctor's office.

Stand Up and Be Imperfect

The past few days have been a time of being grateful for my ability to act authentically and to acknowledge that there's always another chance to do the next right thing.

A good reminder from Mr. Sponsorpants:

I am learning to pray and trust the words that come out of my mouth.

The truth is a couple flights down

I am grateful for

Trusting my guiding voice, which lies under a couple layers of fear.

Being able to speak at my own pace.

A meeting to go to tomorrow.

Somedays, especially days after having a therapy session that includes uncomfortable things, I feel like a turd. Today had the potential to be that, but it wasn't. I shared at a very small meeting and felt quite good about it. There's an older woman I see at meetings who says "fuck" a lot. I like to see her at meetings.

I saw some pictures from the start of Ramadan, like this one from the Boston Globe:

I felt like finding out more about Ramadan, so I looked it up and found this great statement from Colorado State website: " There are as many meanings of Ramadan as there are Muslims." Generalizations don't work here, as they don't really in life, generally. This syncs with the Al-Anon idea that everyone has their own higher power. The phrase that's running through my mind now is "I know home when I see it." That's what being with my higher power in the place where I live feels like. I can resist it, but I know home when I see it. I need a time set aside to focus on spirituality. Ramadan is a very fitting reminder of that.

Peace Can Happen Anywhere

I'm thinking today about the physical feelings of serenity. When I move towards serenity, I feel less heavy, my words come out at a slower pace, and they feel natural. I can relax. The first time I remember feeling relaxed was when I was a kid and I was sitting in an armchair by myself. I thought, "this is what relaxing means."

One of the gifts of serenity is the understanding that it can happen anywhere, and that the reminders of the possibility of serenity come from everywhere. I find them at my church, at work, from my pets and from my partner.

And sometimes serenity feels very far away. I went to a workshop on meditation over the weekend, and learned about noting: stating on a second-by-second basis the states of one's body and mind while meditating. The sensations are rapid and transient. It's like the slogan, "this too shall pass."

I used to be very judgmental of people who believed in the power of healing. Now I'm happy to find that belief at the core of myself. As I imagine who I want to be, that value sticks around.

Thus
I saw God
and sought God...

And this is,
and should be,
what life is all about,
as I see it.

-Julian of Norwich

Grateful today

for reminders to surrender control.

Monday, Monday

I had jury duty today. Being in a room full of strangers is a real illustration of human diversity. There are those who huddle up in a corner and wait to be called and those who seek out conversation almost instantly. I noticed today that I was at peace being myself and being quiet in the midst of strangers.

I had the chance to declare hardship when called for what could be a four-week trial. I found myself practicing what I was going to say before I went in. When I rehearse my words in this way, I start slipping into the territory of manipulation. What I'm saying becomes less T.H.I.N.K. (thoughtful, honest, intelligent, necessary and kind) and more spin. I was conscious of this when I spoke to the judge, and did my best to just relay the facts. It was a good chance to use a new behavior.

I'm struck by the challenge of rectifying Al-Anon principles like "live and let live" with civic participation, especially when it requires me to judge the actions of another. I imagine there is no easy answer to this question.

I'm also thinking about being recently diagnosed with OCD. I'm not sure how important this diagnosis is to my recovery. I do believe that there are Al-Anon concepts and slogans that seem to apply to the experiences of people with OCD. I've even read online that therapists have used twelve step concepts and meetings to help treat OCD patients, even if they have no personal or family history of addiction.

Say what you mean

by Les LaRue

I am grateful for:

The realization that when I don't over think what I'm going to say, I can say what I mean.

For the example of people saying what they mean and being true to themselves.

For knowing that another person's emotional experience is not for me to interfere with, or judge or try to make guesses about. There is so much to learn just by listening and being with someone: by acknowledging another person for all that they are.

Things I'm learning

That "self-help" really is not what recovery is about.

I can never know another person's motivations. It's hard enough sometimes knowing my own.

That my ego would be happy to be left alone in a room to seethe, and I can either seethe with it or let it go.

Some days I'm really critical and I can't shake it. Sometimes I have to just wait it out.

"I am not a puzzle to be solved.  I must let go of this illusion -- this distraction -- that I am a puzzle to be worked on -- that I have to figure out how to arrange all the pieces to make them fit.  That is not my job.  That is God's job.  My job is to just keep showing up for it." -from Mr. Sponsorpants

Willing

At a meeting this week, I heard someone qualify who I'd considered asking to be my sponsor in the past. I got a lot out of what she said, but I found myself trying to shore up reasons why she would not be a good sponsor for me. This defensiveness was so apparent, so on the surface.

I don't feel like I can trust many people yet. In meetings sometimes that feels like a dirty secret. I can speak in front of a group about how much the program has helped me, but I haven't admitted out loud how insecure I still feel in that environment, and in many environments.

In my mind the struggle is between whether to trust first in order to get to the point where I can really work the steps, or to just swallow the insecurity and find a sponsor and see how it goes. From what I read and hear, the trust comes with the practice of the steps, not before you get started. Maybe that's the wrong question. It's likely that it really takes faith to start the process, rather than trust.

I feel like I'm building up a pile of things to make amends for in the interim. These are daily things like being judgmental or self-seeking. Sometimes I get so frustrated with myself that I fail to act at all.

Mr. Sponsorpants has a great post up about willingness. And I heard again the other day that this is not a self-help program.

Writing this is a form of repetition that can move me to act and to calm me down when I'm judging myself into a corner. I'm glad that I can be willing in this small way for today.

Opening Up

I am grateful:

That when I'm still and calm I can speak in a way that feels true to myself.

That I don't have to spend every minute of my working day working.

That I can vent and know that it's venting, instead of assuming that I am a bad person.

Awareness.

For today

I am grateful that I learned how to do a pull-up.

The View Along the Way

I'm stuck recently in a season of annoyance. At work, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about who's not treating me right, who's not doing their job, who's keeping things from me that I believe I'd be better off knowing. I've been alarmed by the fact that this emotional funk is drifting into Al-Anon meetings, too. I find myself annoyed by other people's dominance. I'm not proud of this, but it's true.

I've been thinking about discontent, and about the slogan "happiness is an inside job." I was talking with my boyfriend the other day about my frustration with what feels like my lack of progress in recovery. He said, "you must feel like you read your books every day and go to meetings, where's the progress?" That is what it feels like. Where is the product of my work on myself? What is it? When will I know? And will I diminish it by beating myself up along the way for not being "there" yet?

Or is it more accurate to think that "there is no there, there?" That the view from where I am will always be one with plenty of room to stretch out and keep growing. The thought can feel comforting at times and at other times feel like such a heavy thing.

I was reminded of all of this when I got an invitation from my brother to go to a party at his house this weekend. We live in the same city, and see each other occasionally. It sucks to feel this, but for many years I haven't felt good around my brother. He makes me feel drained and minimized. We had a pretty symbiotic relationship for a long time, and being around him provokes an inner fight between regression and recovery. It's not something I can handle very well yet.

When I'm met with these requests from him, my mind gets fuzzy and I lose all ability to think rationally. Then, I ask my boyfriend for advice. It's good advice, coming from his own time in recovery, but my motive for asking is more than just wanting insight. Part of me wants to be free from the responsibility of making any decision. Like a kid, I want someone to take control and make the decision for me.

Here's what it is: it would be great to hang out with my brother if it wasn't hard as hell hanging out with my brother. If he didn't demand emotional support that I can't give and didn't have distorted expectations about who I am, we could see each other every few months, go our separate ways and be at peace with the knowledge that we are living our own lives. But that's not the way he is; that's not the way my family is. And the expectation that that's going to change each time I get an invitation is stressful to me. Pretending to go along with his request is a disservice to him. Hanging on to an old way of keeping a relationship together isn't the best thing for me right now.

I think one of the things I can work on distinguishing is the difference between how it feels to be pulled towards responsibility to myself, or towards responsibility for the feelings, attitudes and choices of another person. I can mistake the discomfort I feel about being responsible for stretching out as my recovery progresses for the same discomfort I feel when I'm stretching myself beyond my limits to do what someone else wants me to do. Awareness of these feelings is the place to start. It isn't pretty or quick, but it's a choice that's guided by my higher power's vision of a future that includes freedom from co-dependence: a scary, but wonderful, place to be headed.

For today

I'm grateful:


To realize that when I feel annoyed with others it's a sign that there's something I'm seeing in them that I'm trying very hard not to see in myself

For the ability to pause

For not always having to follow a schedule

For the summer

Children of God

It's still hard for me to hear the ACOA affirmation "I am a child of God" and fully accept it. I want to. June is LGBTQ Pride month: a time when I try to rededicate energy to loving myself. I'm not where I want to be yet as far as loving myself, but it helps to have the example of others who have been through that fight and have come out the other side much closer to whole. This Pride, I am trying to be gentle with myself in that way. I am proud of my relationship; I am proud of my ability to be out about myself, and the ongoing process of coming to know myself better. I can stop carrying the shame that others have placed on me; it isn't mine.

I find comfort recently in the feeling that my sense of insecurity is moving me in the right direction for growth: towards getting a sponsor and working the steps.

Shake It

I am grateful for people who cry or get nervous at meetings. They take away that nagging sense of terminal uniqueness and show that these reactions are not special or remarkable, just human. They can be shared plainly (not stuffed or magnified) so that others can feel human too.

Like lots of people, I shake when I'm nervous. Today I had to go to traffic court for the first time, and I did everything I could to stay composed. I told myself exactly what I needed to say, rehearsed it in my head, and tried to stay in control. And I shook.

I shook in an Al-Anon meeting when I qualified the first time and I shook when I came out as queer to one of my regular Al-Anon groups. And people were supportive as hell.

I usually try to hide it, but trying to acting normal in the midst of this is not convincing and it comes off as kind of silly. The shaking feels like a real feeling trying to be expressed, and fighting the flow doesn't make the feeling, or the symptom, go away.

I want to reach a point where, when it's happening, I can just let it happen plainly and to be willing to risk the connection that comes with other people identifying with that reaction.

One definition of terminal uniqueness: Protecting yourself through your feelings of being completely different from other people and through your ideas that you are therefore misperceived by them.

A Little Funky

Today was a little funky. I felt myself shifting towards reaction mode as the day progressed. It's a funny realization that these are the kind of days where I really learn things about myself if I allow myself to be honest.

I reacted to some things my boss said to me today about a project I was working on that had been delayed, and my first inclination was to feel bad about myself, unworthy of my job and unable to live up to standards. After allowing myself some time to pause, I realized that there could be many reasons why this had come up today. Maybe my boss was aware of something that made the project more urgent than we had thought it was a few weeks ago. Maybe he just was having a bad day. There are many possibilities. I can't ever know anyone else's motivations. Knowing that today--really knowing it--is a hell of a blessing.

That doesn't always keep the shamed feelings from coming up on me when I feel challenged, but it does mean that I have the tools to put the interaction in perspective. "How important is it?" It wasn't too important, really. For today, I did the best I could.

There was a great rain shower this evening. My boyfriend, our dog Jim (pictured above) and I waited it out under an awning. It felt good to be in the midst of something I had no control over. It was a good way to recover from a funky work day.

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we did get sick, at least we didn't die; so let us all be thankful. -Buddha

Grim Determination

I was reminded today of a recent reading in One Day at a Time that focuses on resentment:

I have no room for resentment in my new Al-Anon way of life. I will not fight it with grim determination, but will reason it out of existence by calmly uncovering its cause. 

This is a great reminder to me that Al-Anon is a gentle program. I used to phrase my recovery goal in terms of “stability.” I wanted to stand firm despite the turbulence of the past, present and future that seemed to always be with me. But, I thought the cure for this was to be unmoved and unmovable. That, I’m realizing today, is what grim determination is.

The problem here is that I’ve left my higher power out of the picture; that everything becomes about my balance, my equilibrium, and my ability to maintain. With my higher power absent from my mind, “reasoning [resentment] out of existence” becomes obsession rather than an act that leads toward amends.

There’s another reading in the literature that illustrates this difference with the example of silence. Am I using silence to injure someone, or to passive-aggressively express a resentment? Am I setting my jaw while remaining silent? Or am I remaining quiet in order to let my higher power in; in order for the things I can’t see to become apparent?

The former seems like grim determination. The latter feels more like serenity.

I am grateful that the pressure I’ve felt to remain stable and determined is no longer necessary.

Waiting

I went into my first Al-Anon meeting with a thought that I’ve heard many times in other people’s shares: that I could quickly get in and get out with the information I needed to recover. I once heard someone share that they had been convinced that after two or three meetings they would be teaching the steps to others. This was someone with over 20 years in the program.

Growing up in a family with addictions, there was never enough time, everything was rushed. Things like doing well in school or being able to take care of yourself were a sign of personal worth. Asking for help made you a liability. So, at my first meeting, my plan was to share really well, blow everyone away and somehow be promoted to the top of the class. I thought this was the kind way of being in Al-Anon, which wouldn’t involve burdening anyone.

Instead, I heard “keep coming back,” and the confusing: “stay, and wait for the miracle to happen.”

This has affected my understanding of my higher power: one that isn’t just with me, but one that moves me to plunk my butt down every time I have the urge to get up and run away. A higher power that is patient with the process and that is rooting for me in ways that I don’t yet know how to root for myself.

I am grateful for honest exchanges; hearing from others what my higher power needs me to hear.