Working On My White Space

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I need to stop staring at the black dot.

A program friend of mine attended a newcomer's meeting recently, in which she heard a fantastic share: a woman recalled how her sponsor held up a blank sheet of paper, and then on the sheet of paper put one black dot.  When asked what she saw, the woman said "a black dot."  Her sponsor then wisely pointed out the overwhelming amount of blank space around the dot.  

"The blank space is waiting to be filled with our lives, our hopes and our dreams.  Our passions, hobbies and interests."

When I heard this I thought - "I. Am so. Tired."  

The other morning I woke up with a migraine.  Woke up, after a full night's sleep, with a migraine.  And all I could think was, "Hey, wait a second - isn't the wrong person hungover, here?"  

But just like my husband may become sick with withdrawal from alcohol, I make myself sick - with the constant obsession over what he's thinking, planning, drinking, and the subsequent withdrawals of ME.  

MY plans.

MY interests.

MY passions.

MY life.

Back in the day, I used to be a much more interesting person.  I used to you know, know stuff.  Stuff that I could talk about intelligently and passionately, like books.  Books that I was able to read cover to cover without stopping because it was before the time that it became too much work to read something so completely unrelated to anything having to do with alcoholism, recovery - basically anything that I was too busy worrying about to actually live my life.  And to boot, all this has left me feeling oh, a tad socially awkward.

I have lost myself.

A few months ago, a kind soul opened her home to me while I was traversing the country on a wee road trip.  A planned lunch stop was quickly rescheduled.  "I think you should stay the night :o)" she texted.  So it was a lovely two days of lounging, chatting, drinking tea, exploring, doing everyday things, drinking more tea, and being in the world again.

At one point my friend asked me The Question.  The Question which I had so much trouble answering that made me think, something is really wrong here.  Why is this so hard?  It went like this:

"So what kinds of movies do you typically watch?"
"Um..."
".....?"
"....."
"Comedies?"
"Um...."
"Well what was the last movie you saw?"
"...."
"....?"
"Hold on I'm thinking."

Finally I squeaked out "Yeah, um, comedies...um...historical dramas?"  I was in a panic.  The fact of the matter was I didn't even know what movies I like anymore.  I may as well have answered with something like "Movies good.  Popcorn.  Actors."  *Facepalm*

So as I'm thinking about all this I had a little epiphany.  Have you ever seen one of those optical illusions where you look at a picture for a length of time and then afterwards, the picture remains in your sight?  That's the problem with focusing on the black dot so intensely.  Even when you try to look away YOU SEE IT EVERYWHERE.  Dot.  Dot.  Dot!  DOT.  A hologram haunting every attempt at refocus elsewhere.  

Sure, the black dot is there.  There's nothing we can do about the black dot itself - it exists in our lives, I mean, it's there.  To pretend it's not there is denial, and I was there for a long time.  If we want the black dot to "go away", that would mean a few different things: after some serious thinking about whether to stay or go, either the removal of ourselves from our relationship...or?  That's it.  If we don't want the black dot in our lives, that's it.

For those of us who remain, or for those of us who may have a relationship with a high-functioning alcoholic and cannot break up or divorce that person (they are our parents, our children, or other family members) what we can do is work on our white space.  Fill up our own lives with who we are, what we're passionate about.  Maybe it's a favorite charity to which we haven't devoted much time, maybe it's taking more time to care for our own health and well-being - making that yoga class on Wednesday nights that we "never have time for" or asking a friend or neighbor to watch the kids so we can catch a movie.  Or relaxing and reading that book that's been gathering dust on our nightstand, getting back into an old hobby or interest, catching up with friends.  I guarantee you there are tons of things I can't even think of because I'm just not completely there yet myself to even fathom what they are.

What it means, ultimately, is to be more present in our own lives.  To honor our own spirits, our amazingly varied and special personalities, and to nourish the relationships we have with friends and family.  I can tell you this - sure, I am geographically handicapped and am miles and miles from those I love, but I sure miss my friends.  A few in particular, who had been such a bright, fun source of friendship and support, that surely I was not a proper friend to, as I was too busy dealing with "everything" to really be there for them.  And they spent so much time being there for me, lifting and filling me up.  They knew my circumstances and I felt safe with them, free from judgment.

My heart misses them, and as we're right in the middle of the holiday season it makes me want to drive all the way to their houses, skip wildly back and forth in front of their front lawns with signs and say "Thank you!  Thank you for seeing ME in the middle of everything, thank you for loving and caring for ME.  Now it's your turn!"  My friends and family are such a huge part of ME, and who I am, and fostering relationships with my wonderful "family of choice" is a tremendous blessing.  And I hope that I can get closer to being the real ME as I come out of this dark cloud, to be the real and great friend, daughter, sister and loved one that I know I am.

We are so fortunate to have those in our lives that do this for us, and it's completely and totally okay that sometimes we are that person that do those things for us, that we are enough.  A couple weeks ago I ordered a gorgeous flowery electric tea kettle, and a dainty cup and saucer set, just one of each.  And at night, after a lovely bath with essential oils, I truly relish sitting down to a great cup of Earl Grey, reading my new favorite book, surrounded by my snoozing animals.  It doesn't sound like much but it's a huge step for me, and I love it.  Maybe it's serenity that I'm experiencing, and it's a feeling that I didn't think I could have in my situation.  It makes me feel stronger and more able to take care of myself, and build my own life.  That I can and will be okay.  That I am enough.

There are certain things that make me feel like myself again.  The Real Me is in there, and when I do these things she opens her eyes, yawns and stretches at the day, looks around and says "Ah, here I am.  I am here."

What are those things for you?  What helps you feel like yourself again?

It's That Time of Year, and it can be challenging to focus on our white space right now.  But as always, my hope stretches out to you that you can find a small corner of your own white space, curl up in it or stretch out, throw some pottery, go hiking, sign up for that beginner's French class you always wanted to take, make your grandmother's ravioli, dance around and frolic or take a nap.  Whatever floats your boat.

As for me, time to go study up on Netflix.  If someone else asks me The Question anytime soon, I want to be prepared.

Codepency Blues

Okay.

So it's been a while since I've posted.  A while being almost a month.  I'm sorry.

I say I'm sorry because you know, I do feel quite guilty when it's been so long, because I think of all of you out there who need recovery any place you can find it, and from the comments and e-mails I receive I am humbled to know that in some small way I am helping some of you.  So when I'm absent my guilt bubbles up that I am then in some small way abandoning you - and myself - but I have to remind myself it is actually a completely self-imposed "obligation".  Because believe me, this is so not coming from some deluded, grandiose place of "These people need ME and my experience or else...?!"  It's really an automatic instinct on my part to feel obligated and guilty when I don't show up.  But nonetheless, I can't help myself.

Which is a perfect segue into this post about codependency.

Codependency: I feel overly responsible for the decisions, choices and behaviors of others, and the consequences of their decisions, choices and behaviors.

This is completely me, and a lot of us involved with anyone suffering from addiction.  It's not just about their drinking or using.  I have tried to assert my will over my husband's a number of times on the smallest of things, because I think "No, this is better, if I just explain it he'll see that."  It's not that I think he is stupid, incapable of taking care of himself or make the right decisions, it's that my brain is wired to aggressively help and assist those around me without their request, and often (in the past) against their will.  I should point out that the codependency flares the most with those I'm closest to but since it's part of who I am, at my worst self I was this way with everyone.  Okay, am still sometimes occasionally every now and then this way - I'm working on it.  Progress not perfection!

Symptoms of codependency include the following:

1. Low self-esteem.
2. People-pleasing.
3. Poor boundaries.
4. Reactivity.
5. Caretaking.
6. Control.
7. Dysfunctional communication.
8. Obsessions.
9. Dependency.
10. Denial.
11. Problems with intimacy.
12. Painful emotions.

Check, check, check the rest.  Each of these could be their own post.  Reactivity and dysfunctional communication are huge ones for me.  One of the primary symptoms of my disease is that when my husband appears upset, I go into "fix it" mode, stopping at almost nothing to see what is wrong and how I can "help".  You see, crazy person that I am, when he's in a bad mood, my thinking goes like this:

Oh no.

*sick feeling*
What's wrong?

Wait a minute.
What did I do?

Ugh not again.
What just happened between then and now?
Maybe it's this...
...It could be that.

Did I say something...?
Oh no.

I absolutely, completely, totally cannot stand when my husband is in a bad mood - especially if it is anger directed at me for something I didn't do, that in no way is related to me or has anything to do with me.  I just can't take it.  If you're not happy, it's my fault.  That's my disease.

Growing up without direct, assertive communication with one of my parents, I learned how to play the guessing game of "What's Wrong?"  How you play is you have to ask just the right questions to crack the code and get the answer.  When that parent wasn't happy with me, they did play the silent game, and this parent didn't communicate their issues with my behavior so I was left in the dark to wonder and worry.  Sometimes they would lay there silent, watching television, while I stood there and asked question after question, until something sparked a slight nod, their eyes moving toward my direction, anything to sound off the bell.

*Ding ding* You win!

Fast forward to today.  If someone's quiet I think "Shit, what did I do?"  It must be me, and it's now my job to simultaneously fix it and find out what's wrong, in no particular order.  Now I make more of an effort to remember that we're all adults here, and if someone is possibly upset with me or for some other reason, they can choose to bring it up with me and communicate assertively - it's not my job to be hyper-vigilant and do their communicating for them.  This doesn't mean I ignore my own behavior or cut off my friends or loved ones, it just means I'm trying to move to a healthier state with them, which is to stop pestering them any time there's been a lag or a period of "silence." (Also - it's not always about me!  Something else I have to deprogram in myself).

Codependency is also a great way we stay in denial.  If I remain convinced that my behavior, thoughts, and actions drive someone else to behave, think or act in a certain way, then I remain in denial that my loved one has an addiction that has nothing to do with me.  It's the great illusion (sometimes shared between the codie and addict) that the only thing that can change their behavior is our behavior.  So in that way we prevent our loved ones from experiencing any consequences of their own actions, and as a result we enable their addiction.

A friend of mine was speaking with her therapist recently, and she expressed her concern that if she didn't speak up, certain things could happen. 

"He could (X)"
"Yes.  That's true", the therapist said.

"Well if he doesn't do X, then Y will happen."
"That could, yes," the therapist agreed.
"Well..."

The therapist was trying to point out that the consequences of her husband's behavior are the consequences of her husband's behavior.  

Case in point for me:  This past Mother's Day, my husband was traveling for work, so of course I did what any good codependent wife would do and made sure to buy his mom's gifts, have them wrapped, spent a thoughtful amount of time to pick out her card - all this after he said she may not get anything this year.  Of course, he could have planned ahead, but planning ahead is not one of his strong suits and knowing this, I insisted that I shop for her - without his asking me to - and then reported to him what I purchased and even took photos.  He could have not gotten her anything, and she - I can only assume - would have been hurt and confused, and inevitably I would be left thinking it was somehow my fault.

Now, this is after a good year in Al Anon.  And after I knew better.  And after I told myself, "I probably don't need to do this."  But I still did it.  Maybe the healthy difference is that afterwards it didn't feel like the "success" that it used to, even though he thanked me.

One of the results of all this codependency has been this: maybe, just maybe, I focus on how to fix it so much so that I won't see that damn, this is just bullshit.  It's not how I deserve to be treated, not how I want my marriage to be.  But if I keep focusing on the fixing it - on the details - then maybe I can put off dealing with The Big Picture a little longer.  Maybe I can avoid looking at me, what I could change to empower myself, how I really view myself, what makes me happy.  Because when I contemplate those questions, I tell ya.  Scares the hell out of me.  I'm getting a little panicky just writing about it.

So when there is unacceptable behavior, I question my own contribution to see where things went wrong.  I think, "Well maybe if I hadn't said this" or "Dammit, I shouldn't have said anything."  Still, after really truly knowing better, it isn't my first instinct to pull back and see someone else's choices as their choices.

As ever, something to work on in myself.  Hope you are all hanging in wherever you are, and I'm sending a crap ton of love and strength your way.

Keep Your Mind Where Your Feet Are.

Sometimes when things are so frustrating with my husband, I have tunnel-vision and focus on his itchy, irksome behavior or anything else over which I have absolutely NO control - his secret drinking, his in-front-of-me drinking, the fact that he's an alcoholic, how he loads the dishwasher - and *POOF*!  There goes my hour.  Or my day.  Or my week!  Year...yikes.

We just got back from our trip for the 4th, where we had some amazing outdoors experiences.  Amazing experiences that almost passed me by because I was stuck in my head and living through my husband's experience of withdrawal, cravings, distance, and anger, and not my own.  True, it sometimes seemed as though he was on vacation and I just happened to be there, but it didn't mean that I had to stop enjoying myself with such pathetic resignation after becoming aware of what I was doing.  No way.  NO. WAY.

So as my mind swirled with fear and worry and resentment and anger and hurt and grief and damn, ANGER, I literally stopped in my tracks and let my husband get even farther ahead of me on our hike, looked down at my feet, and closed my eyes.  I pressed into the dirt.  I wiggled my toes.  I tried with every force I could muster to figuratively shoot my mind and thoughts down my spine, through my legs and into my shoes.

"THERE.  You are THERE on the ground, on this path.  We are here in this moment," I told my mind and my feet.  They stared back at me, dusty and without response.  Which was comforting really because at that point in my insanity I half-expected something in return.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of the beautiful clear and crisp air, looked up at all surrounding me and felt myself become enveloped by the space.  Pushing out anything negative and harmful just for that moment.  It was so important that all the miles we had traveled to get there turn out something healing and peaceful for me if just for that moment.

Sometimes there is a fear of letting go of that focus, like taking our eyes off a boiling pot.  "If something happens and my guard isn't up, I'll be wounded" or "If I don't try to figure this out or prepare I will be left feeling helpless or stupid."  But it is impossible to be prepared for everything, and hyper-vigilance is hardly the answer.  Part of what was going on was simple, really - my husband's disease is progressing and, as my sponsor wisely pointed out, the withdrawal is progressing as well.  He couldn't have his drink when he wanted it (didn't want me to see that he had smuggled in liquor in his bag, perhaps) and so he was angry and on edge.  As for the rest of it - the specific How's and Why's - I can't figure it out, and shouldn't keep trying to.  It's futile and really just not my job, not my deal.  In fact, one of the sayings in both AA and Al Anon is "Figuring it out isn't one of the steps."  So I'm off the hook there.

The rest of the trip I was able to (mostly) enjoy myself, even the good, sweet moments with my husband, which was great.  I like to think it's because I was able to just stop obsessing about what's going on in his head and do the next right thing.  Which was look out the window on our drive, and watch the scenery go by, soaking it all in and living through my OWN experience and feelings.  Here's hoping I can keep on doing that.

Keep Hope Alive

A few days ago I purchased this greeting card.  Discovering it in the store gave me a thrill - for the past couple weeks I have been wanting to post here about the subject of hope, and planned to include an image of the first few lines of Emily Dickinson's poem against a photo of yes, a bird.  Originally I was going to include a gorgeous photograph of a crimson red cardinal, warm and bright against a wintry background.  Fitting, I thought, for the idea of hope.  Cue finding this card, and it's been resting on my work desk ever since.

Hope is for some of us a scary concept, especially those of us prone to extremes (ahem).  Too much of it and we mistake the comfort for a free Greyhound ticket to Denial (Greyhound should be the only accepted and allowed method of transport back to grimy, backwards Denial.  Our punishment for such a masochistic trip).  We tell ourselves, "There's hope!"  We hope for them to get sober, we hope for them to make amends, we hope for them to realize all they've done to hurt us and hope that they'll realize just how much they don't want to lose us so that they'll choose us over the bottle.  We hope that we can be their consequence, their bottom.  Is that really what I want to hope for?  "Why can't I be his bottom?"  Uh, ew.

Too little hope and we are in despair.  We are hopeless.  Stuck in our doom and gloom we catastrophize and worry, we prepare for the worst - starring heroines (or heros) in our own imaginary fairytale tower, we lay in wait thinking there is just no damn way our one true love is going to slay their own shitty dragon.  Nope, we're just victims and there's absolutely nothing we can do.  We focus on our qualifiers and lose ourselves.

Of course, there needs to be a balance with hope, and there needs to be an understanding of just what kind of hope is okay to hope.  The hope is ultimately for our own serenity, whether the alcoholic is drinking or not.  It is for us.  But us good al anons, we love to give everything to our alcoholics.  

"You can take this, you can take that, here have this too - I will give you everything I have until I am sucked dry and exhausted and without dignity and self-respect, and then I will feel guilty for not being able to give you more.  Here, I will even give you my hope!  It's all I have left, but it's yours now, so the hope is for you to stop drinking.  It's not about me anymore."

Cut to today.  After a "French Chic" themed lunch with friends after the morning meeting, I was on my way home down a main street, a box of 6 macarons as my co-pilot (talk about a sweet ride).  

Driving along, I followed a turn in the road and saw something in the middle of the lane next to me.  It was a bird. Sitting awkwardly and obviously injured, it gazed up at the sky with its mouth agape.  I was horrified and wishing with the sick feeling in my stomach that it didn't die that way, crying out in pain or for help.  

"Maybe it's not dead."  I started the conversation with myself.

"Am I really going to turn around for this bird?"  

"Well you can't let it sit there in the road - it's going to get hit."

"People are going to think I'm crazy going into the road for a bird.  Am I really going to do this?"

"So. *shrug*  You rescue snails on the sidewalk."

"What if it's dead?  I mean, what if it's dead?  Can you handle that?"

"But what if it's not.  Can you handle not knowing?  Can you handle that?"

Sigh.  No.  No I can't.

I flip a U-turn, enter the adjacent shopping center and empty a shoebox I happen to have in the front seat.  I hurry out of the car in my red suede pumps to the road, waiting for cars to stop flying by.  At first from my distance, the bird is so still it does appear to be dead.  But a car whooshes over it and then another, and I see its head turn to and fro.  It is petrified.  Its mouth is agape again, without a sound.

At this point, I am visibly pleading with the cars.  "Please stop!''  And then I say my worst fear out loud.  "Please don't hit this bird in front of me, please don't hit this bird!"  Surely people must see the little one, but no one slows or stops.  No one except one crazy Francophile broad in an ill-fitting black vest and red lipstick who may or may not be talking to herself.

The traffic slows and I take my chance, scooping the bird into the box.  When it tries to get away I'm relieved - it's in better shape than I thought.  Okay little one, I tell the flapping box, okay.  

Wouldn't you know, there's an animal clinic in that very shopping center.  I teeter through the parked cars, my long tassel necklace swaying side to side with my hurry, and through the doors of the clinic, breathless with a mixture of embarrassment and too many crêpes.  The receptionist's gaze, though unwavering, betrays her wish to eyeroll me.

"We don't take birds here.  And even if we did the vet is gone for the day."  She directs me to a clinic down the road that takes birds.  Somehow we make it in spite of my attempts at keeping the box steady and shock-absorbed by knee-driving.  The office cat flirts with me while I wait.  Now that I think about it he probably wanted what he saw as a neatly-wrapped snack.  The woman ahead of me looks curiously at the Donald Pliner box (eBay) but never asks.

"Oh you'll want to take it to the wildlife rescue." Again, directed elsewhere. "They're closed now but just bang on the door - they're still inside."  On the road again, feeling like Goldilocks.

We arrive, along the way passing a few critters in the road who hadn't been so lucky.  After some frantic knocking I see ah, the door is unlocked.  A confused volunteer pushes it open and invites me in.  I hurry to the admissions desk like Shirley MacLaine, and another volunteer swiftly and gently takes the bird from me.

"Here, fill this out" - someone else hands me an admission form.  An admission form.  I briefly think to myself, "Really?" but almost collape in relief at the bureaucratic validation of this midday rescue mission.

Date.  Time.  Species.  # Individuals.  I print legibly and press firmly as instructed.

Reason(s) for Admission - CAUGHT BY CAT (in all caps - not sure why).  BAT - COMPLETE QUESTIONNAIRE (also in all caps).  Electrocuted.  Caught by Dog.  Gun shot (dear god).  Vehicle collision.  Possible poisoning.  Caught in trap.  Struck window.  Caught by human.  Fell in pool.  Unknown trauma.  "Caught by human," hehe.  Technically true.  I end up going with "unknown trauma."

The volunteer who took the bird comes back from a room I can't see, presumably where some of the animals are kept.  "Is he - or she - going to be okay?"

"She.  Yes she's just a little freaked out right now but I think she'll be okay.  Right now she's in the room with the baby birds."  The volunteer behind the desk lets me know I can check on her using the number referenced on my form.

A small sign at the desk asks "Please help us care for your animal with a tax deductable donation!".  As I sign a check for $20, I tell her about the greeting card.  I figure what the hell, so I ask her.

"Can I name her...Hope?"

She smiles.  "You know, if you name the animal we actually write it on the top of their form, and you can check on her using that name."  She writes it down, and hands me my copy.

As I write this, my hope is that the wildlife center is doing their best to keep Hope alive.  To heal her, to nurse her back to health, to rehabilitate her and one day, to set her free to fly again.  And right now I can honestly say that I feel her perched in my soul.  Singing the tune without the words, never stopping at all.

Changing The Things I Can

It is coming up on one year that I have been in Al Anon, and there's nothing quite like an Al Anon Anniversary to put your past year in perspective.  Oh, the things that have happened, been said, been done. My sponsor recently pointed out to me just how far I've come - from having nothing to do except get up in the morning (whenever that was), cook, walk the dogs, go to meetings - to now, having so much on my plate from my venture that I am struggling to check off all of my to-do list most days.  In short, I am overwhelmed by Me and My World and they are great things to be overwhelmed by.

All of this good stuff happened when I had my first real breakthrough in focusing on me and changing the things I can.  There were so many times I felt as though I were emotionally crawling into a meeting, so desperate for some hope, so tired of constantly worrying about my husband's drinking, what problems it would soon cause and how I could work around them, having too many pre-scripted arguments in my own head stored away in a dark, sick catalog.  As I once shared in a lead, I was so hyper-vigilant I thought myself to be a Green Beret or a Navy Seal - every possible outcome mapped, every possible angle analyzed and strategized in my sad little alcoholic "Choose Your Own Adventure".  No thanks.

"Worrying and a rocking chair are the same in that they give you something to do but in the end you get nowhere", I heard once in a meeting.  So one of the first changes I made was to my own thinking - nope, can't worry.  "I can't control the first thought in my head, but I can control the ones after it" I've also heard.  So I put worrying on my list.

"When you point the finger at someone, you have three pointing back at you."  Yup.  Too often I am taking my husband's inventory (and others!) instead of my own.  Yes, there are times to judge the behavior of someone else and decide what is healthy for us to do in terms of setting boundaries, keeping ourselves emotionally or physically safe.  But there's a reason this is an Al Anon maxim - when I'm focused on the shortcomings of others I can't possibly begin to open up the delicate patchwork of my own repair and recovery.  And phew, is there some room for change and evolution within me.

Here's my current list of things I'd like to change (in no particular order):

Get more organized - treat my workspace like a temple, something to be primped and taken care of, because like most important things in life, it nurtures me when I nurture it.

Get healthy - truly, I fancy myself to be a health nut.  Which would be hard to understand if you saw me eating some of the yummy but bad for me things I pile on my plate come lunch time.  Eat less, move more.  It's already working, but I need to stick with it.

Re-learn the art of conversation - lately I've been stuck in my own head.  2013 has already thrown quite a bit my way (mom's surgery, new move on the horizon, venture happenings) and I find myself in a state of reaction, which is a comfortable place for us Al-Anons.  But the reaction isn't so much in my life, as I feel I am making proactive changes, but in my communication.  It has been difficult of late to keep what I think are coherent conversations on my part.  What is wrong with me?  I wonder.  So, I think I need to give myself a rest, relax and just go with the flow.

Learn how to love my husband where he is - I thought I had this down.  I thought I was good at this.  But lately there is such a gray area surrounding my detachment, it is foggy and I can do nothing but feel my way through it.  My caretaking skills have won out yet again, and so I am relearning how to be a wife to my husband and not a mother; a wife who is empathetic, kind, loving but honors him as a separate, different human being.  Right now this thought scares the hell out of me, but I'm working on it.  And it's okay to be happy when he's drinking.  Even when he has a glass of red wine downstairs and I catch him (completely by accident) drinking from a mini-bottle of white wine upstairs.  Would you believe it?  It still surprises me every time.  But he's not a bad person, he's a sick person, and you know, he still makes me laugh, he still does sweet things, and we still have that spark.  And that's okay to admit.

Asking for help - and accepting it when it is offered - Do you know how many times I wish my husband would do the dishes?  I stand at the sink and am repulsed and annoyed at the stinky, burgeoning pile of plates, mugs and silverware, and I just, I just seethe.  It's one of the few times that I actually seethe.

"Why can't he just do the dishes?" I ask myself as I sigh, turn on the hot water and get to work.

      *clank*  "He just doesn't THINK -"
      *clink clang*  "Ugh he just gets to come home, do his thing, let ME worry about all this -"
      *tink ting clank*  "Must be nice to not care!  Sigh, so selfish."

And then, maybe even the next day or a few days later -

       "Hey let me get that, I got it" he says, commandeering the mess.
        "No it's okay, I can do it."

The first word out of my mouth is "NO" - no! I need help.  Oh, ha, I just got that.

Not feeling guilty for being "selfish" - I just had myself a little epiphany.  This originally was going to say "Stop being so selfish."  Lately I've been spending a lot of time on myself, and it's rare.  I've hardly abandoned anyone but I am, say, more quiet.  I am trying to let my friends come to me, which is scary because well, sometimes they don't.  And being this far away from most of my friends, that hurts sometimes.  But I am taking care of myself, curling up in my little space and not dropping everything for everyone.  Okay, maybe sometimes, but really I'm getting better.  I swear.  It is so not attractive to not have a life, right?

Getting to meetings on time.  I can't remember the last time I heard a full lead, which inevitably means I won't share, because I am not fully understanding the meeting and feel my share won't make sense.  And as it is I'm having a hard time making sense during my shares.  So with this, I should probably go upstairs, take a shower and get ready already.

What are you all working on?  It is such a freeing thought that we can change ourselves, no matter where we are.  That "our situation may not get better, but we can."

Have a great day all!

Taking My Own Inventory - Check.

This last weekend, Saturday night specifically, I had an epiphany.

After an already tough couple of days (read: there was already an incident) my husband snapped at me during dinner, and I got up and left the room.  I was fuming with the kind of anger I feel after comparing the Before and After of my husband's attitude shifts, mourning the loss of something good, something lovely, something positive, that has been replaced with...this.  How could things be so different now than they were 10 minutes ago?  How does that happen?

But after I calmed down, I realized well, it just happens.  And I can't keep drowning myself in the why's and how's.  It just happens.  *Shrug*  So there I stood next to the dishes of our half-eaten dinner, reviewing the details of the weekend in general and as simply as possible.

I went to drop off our dogs at boarding for our weekend getaway.

My husband got a haircut.

I bought road trip snacks.

My husband got the oil changed.

I came home to pack.

My husband did some laundry.

Everything seemed to do well until he lamented that he was displeased with his haircut (again! ok sorry) and after telling him he looked fine, made the mistake of pressing him on where he got it done.  Long story short, after this I was told that I "never sympathize" with him, and things went pretty badly from there.

But you know what?  He was right.

I don't often sympathize with my husband.  In fact, when it comes to really big issues - him being unhappy at his job, him hating the city we live in, him being upset that we "had" to foreclose on our previous house, him being unhappy with a haircut - I don't often recall saying something, anything, resembling "I'm sorry."  "I'm so sorry you feel that way."  "Ugh, that must be hard, I'm sorry."

Instead, I typically do the following:

1) Try to solve the problem.  Maybe you could do "x" next time;  How about this?  What about that?

2) Point out how he was/is wrong.  Why didn't you do this?  Ah, you could have done that.  Well next time we know to go there instead.  You're feeling this way but it's because you didn't realize you did x.

And so on.

Well. That must be lovely to deal with.  My future dating profile could read "Woman available for relationship - excellent cook, loves art and outdoor activities.  Skills include invalidating feelings and placing blame."

Not only do I more or less tell him that he shouldn't feel the way he does about this or that, I also am so amazingly contrary with him about almost everything, and I'm not like that with most people.  Doesn't matter what he says, I typically respond with "Hmm no, because x."  Or questions, pointing out something false, irrational or illogical.  Just plain not agreeing with him.  Reviewing what we talked about this past weekend, most anything my husband brought up to talk about was met with me wondering if the opposite were true.  Even if it was just his opinion on say, a movie.

I'm aware that alcoholics and addicts have a "victim" perspective (my husband's favorite phrase of late is "No one's a victim but you.").  I'm aware that feeding this is potentially harmful, as it can further them down their shame/self-loathing/pity spiral and into even more dangerous territory.  It is easy for me to see how it could be the disease making him feel so miserable - not his job, not the city we live in, not any of that stuff.  And I am constantly on the lookout, perhaps subconsciously trying to convince him that nope, he's just an alcoholic.

But I also know that negating feelings is cruel, painful and at some point emotionally abusive, especially when done consistently and in an intimate relationship.  Not honoring or even plain acknowledging that someone feels a certain way says, "You don't feel this way.  You are wrong for feeling this way.  Your feelings and YOU are not safe with me.  Your feelings do not matter.   They do not exist.  You do not matter.  You do not exist."

A couple months ago, someone told me that my husband has the right to think, believe, and feel whatever and however he wants.  That I do not and cannot have the power to control it, no matter how much I fight.  That I need to accept what is and decide not to react to it.

Uh, WHAT?!

But -!

Wha-!

Ugh!

And almost a month later I realize, yup.  That's right.  How often have I felt a certain way after he has said something rude, and he has refused to apologize because he didn't do anything wrong?  How hurt have I felt for not being validated, and how often did I repeat myself like a broken record because I didn't feel heard?  I know all too well how this feels, and whether or not I think his feelings are justified, it's not fair for me to dismiss them.

So this is what I am working on right now - being more conscious of my own behaviors, my own thinking.  To stop taking his inventory and start working on my own.  The upside of this?  There are all kinds of wonderful things mixed in there with the not so great.

And when I go digging, maybe I'll find something helpful that can change me for the better - whether it's an asset, or a defect.