I feel the toxicity. Poison.
I woke up with Trent Reznor's words running over and over: "I used to be so big and strong. I used to know my right from wrong. I used to never be afraid. I used to be somebody... I was up above it, now I'm down in it."
I'm starting to understand that I have become used to expecting the worst treatment from the men I choose to love. I'm used to being the hurt one, the victim. WHich is totally fucked up and not a part of my life I think I've realized before. Even though I worked so hard to hide it, to project this image of strength and resilience, unattached to him. Even while projecting this facade, however convincing it may have been to others and to myself even, in our relationship, I was the hurt one. And he fucking knew how much and how often he hurt me and yet made no effort to stop it. And I was so fucking trapped and couldn't leave. Even when I tried to leave I couldn't stay gone because our bond was more permanent due to circumstance. And I never once felt like I could trust him at any point over the years.
And as the brilliant Tom Waits sang, "I did my time, in the jail of your arms". I did my fucking time and I finally started to feel good and like love could be possible again. That a partnership could be real and in my life and that it wouldn't look like a prison.
I'm not used to being the one who would do the hurting. And here it happened. The poison bubbled up and over and it scalded you. And my regret is burning me.
I missed you so fucking much today, A. The ache has its own heartbeat.
Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confessions. Show all posts
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A New You, the Old Me
This is the first post on this blog in 2009, and the first post in which the "you" I am writing to is a different "you" than the one I was writing to before. It has been so long since I have written and in a way I am forcing myself to do this now.
I was so awful to you the night before last. The words I chose to use were the ones I knew would wound the deepest. Why would I strike so hard at the one who has been so dear to me? Why would I act in such a stupid way, a way that would guarantee me winding up alone once again? How could I be such a wretch?
And its these fucking questions that are the reason I'm forcing myself to write this week. Because writing has saved my life - or at least my heart- so many times before and I feel so lost right now. And to try to understand this ugliness inside me so that with hope and vigilance, I can make a real promise to you that it won't happen again.
In a moment of sadness and weakness I admitted my horridness to my mother earlier today. I didn't go into detail other than to say that I was a complete asshole to you, said terrible, undeserved things and that I wished that I could turn back time and take it all back. And then she of course told my father. And hearing the two of them talk to me about what I did to you- the two most frequent victims of the vile words spit by my teenaged tongue - I couldn't lie or minimize the damage I had done. They know me better than that.
My father reminded me that I have always fixated on things that I fear - like vampires and sharks - giving them more meaning and power than they deserve. And he said that I am fixating on my ex and the anniversary of his departure in the same way. I interrupted him quickly and told him that his advice wasn't helpful, but here hours later I think he was on to something. But its not the ex that I am fixated on- it is the carcrash that was me when he left. It is the incredible pain and loss I experienced from time to time on this blog.
So I think my brain is fucking with me. And this certainly wouldn't be the first time I realized that I have walls up that I wasn't even aware of. So the question remains, how do I let these walls down so I can see things truly and honestly? How do I trust? How can I possibly risk loving, which means perhaps losing, again?
I have a lot of love to give. And yet instead it has been injury that has been flung from my body onto yours.
I was so awful to you the night before last. The words I chose to use were the ones I knew would wound the deepest. Why would I strike so hard at the one who has been so dear to me? Why would I act in such a stupid way, a way that would guarantee me winding up alone once again? How could I be such a wretch?
And its these fucking questions that are the reason I'm forcing myself to write this week. Because writing has saved my life - or at least my heart- so many times before and I feel so lost right now. And to try to understand this ugliness inside me so that with hope and vigilance, I can make a real promise to you that it won't happen again.
In a moment of sadness and weakness I admitted my horridness to my mother earlier today. I didn't go into detail other than to say that I was a complete asshole to you, said terrible, undeserved things and that I wished that I could turn back time and take it all back. And then she of course told my father. And hearing the two of them talk to me about what I did to you- the two most frequent victims of the vile words spit by my teenaged tongue - I couldn't lie or minimize the damage I had done. They know me better than that.
My father reminded me that I have always fixated on things that I fear - like vampires and sharks - giving them more meaning and power than they deserve. And he said that I am fixating on my ex and the anniversary of his departure in the same way. I interrupted him quickly and told him that his advice wasn't helpful, but here hours later I think he was on to something. But its not the ex that I am fixated on- it is the carcrash that was me when he left. It is the incredible pain and loss I experienced from time to time on this blog.
So I think my brain is fucking with me. And this certainly wouldn't be the first time I realized that I have walls up that I wasn't even aware of. So the question remains, how do I let these walls down so I can see things truly and honestly? How do I trust? How can I possibly risk loving, which means perhaps losing, again?
I have a lot of love to give. And yet instead it has been injury that has been flung from my body onto yours.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
On letting go of being an addict
I am so glad that after 11 years of being clean and working the Narcotics Anonymous program, you decided that you couldn't leave France without tasting French wine. Since we got clean together so many years ago, I want to tell you some of the things I have figured out after my much more brief - 3 years- stint of sobriety.
I am deeply grateful for what Narcotics Anonymous brought into my life- I honestly don't think I would have graduated from college had I not gotten clean. I learned a whole lot about myself in the process and what I learned continues to be applicable in dealing with myself and with others at home and work. That said, I think NA is a means to an end- not the ultimate solution.
So much of working with people coming out of or in prison, and especially those facing the death penalty is about redemption and grace. It is about not judging people based on the worst decision they ever made. I can't imagine being judged based on my worst decision(s). The thought makes me cringe and blush. I just don't think its kind or compassionate to hold people to this standard. Not that I'm saying we shouldn't be held accountable for these terrible decisions, terrible actions, but they do not in and of themselves define us as people. We are so much more than our worst moments.
You and I made a lot of really bad decisions when we were younger. But this is outweighed by what we have done and become since then. Frankly my dear, I just think you and I are both too smart to live a life of abstinence. Not that addiction can be "outsmarted", but we know ourselves well enough to be able to identify the red flags that may arise and take steps to address them outside of those rooms. One of my strongest commitments to myself is to never wind up in those rooms again- and that is enough to make me do the right things.
God, as I am writing this I realize I am sounding so cocky- such a know it all- and I don't mean to be. This is just something I've thought a whole lot about over the years. Not that I've gotten this all figured out- I definitely still have my occasional binges coupled with the worst hangovers ever where I can drink nothing but ginger ale and whimper a lot. But the difference is that I don't panic anymore that I'm gonna be back in that awful place that I was when I started in NA. Now I just call myself a dumbass and recall that gin does not a classy lady make.
Maybe you've noticed the difference in the treatment of addiction outside of the US? I did my women's studies thesis on women and addiction and that was one of the biggest things I remember- in the US the only real drug "treatment" that is available to most people is that found in 12 step programs which promote abstinence as an only option. Outside of the US, programs teach moderation, how to make healthy choices, and how to recognize when you might be approaching dangerous levels of your habit. The US culture is one of such indulgence that I I think moderation is impossible for most, but certainly not for all.
So I know you didn't ask to hear my 800 thoughts about NA and addiction and I hope you don't mind me writing them. I just really hoped that one day you would come to a place where you would feel confident in take the step to cut yourself some slack and enjoy some of the things that the world has to offer that we deprived ourselves from - you for much longer than I. I wish you all the best in these new steps and remain hopeful for all there is yet to come in your life.
I am deeply grateful for what Narcotics Anonymous brought into my life- I honestly don't think I would have graduated from college had I not gotten clean. I learned a whole lot about myself in the process and what I learned continues to be applicable in dealing with myself and with others at home and work. That said, I think NA is a means to an end- not the ultimate solution.
So much of working with people coming out of or in prison, and especially those facing the death penalty is about redemption and grace. It is about not judging people based on the worst decision they ever made. I can't imagine being judged based on my worst decision(s). The thought makes me cringe and blush. I just don't think its kind or compassionate to hold people to this standard. Not that I'm saying we shouldn't be held accountable for these terrible decisions, terrible actions, but they do not in and of themselves define us as people. We are so much more than our worst moments.
You and I made a lot of really bad decisions when we were younger. But this is outweighed by what we have done and become since then. Frankly my dear, I just think you and I are both too smart to live a life of abstinence. Not that addiction can be "outsmarted", but we know ourselves well enough to be able to identify the red flags that may arise and take steps to address them outside of those rooms. One of my strongest commitments to myself is to never wind up in those rooms again- and that is enough to make me do the right things.
God, as I am writing this I realize I am sounding so cocky- such a know it all- and I don't mean to be. This is just something I've thought a whole lot about over the years. Not that I've gotten this all figured out- I definitely still have my occasional binges coupled with the worst hangovers ever where I can drink nothing but ginger ale and whimper a lot. But the difference is that I don't panic anymore that I'm gonna be back in that awful place that I was when I started in NA. Now I just call myself a dumbass and recall that gin does not a classy lady make.
Maybe you've noticed the difference in the treatment of addiction outside of the US? I did my women's studies thesis on women and addiction and that was one of the biggest things I remember- in the US the only real drug "treatment" that is available to most people is that found in 12 step programs which promote abstinence as an only option. Outside of the US, programs teach moderation, how to make healthy choices, and how to recognize when you might be approaching dangerous levels of your habit. The US culture is one of such indulgence that I I think moderation is impossible for most, but certainly not for all.
So I know you didn't ask to hear my 800 thoughts about NA and addiction and I hope you don't mind me writing them. I just really hoped that one day you would come to a place where you would feel confident in take the step to cut yourself some slack and enjoy some of the things that the world has to offer that we deprived ourselves from - you for much longer than I. I wish you all the best in these new steps and remain hopeful for all there is yet to come in your life.
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