Change in Uncertain Times

animal dog pet dangerous
Photo by SplitShire on Pexels.com

I’ve talked about my dog before on this blog.  She is a rescue mutt – sweet, loving, and scared of most things. She will startle at a pen falling off a table but shows absolutely no hesitation to go bolting off the deck into the night after an anonymous and unidentified shadow or noise. In these moments, she forgets she is afraid.

I have a similarly complicated and confusing relationship with change. Fed up with life and circumstances I can name an embarrassing amount of times in my life that I’ve bolted into the night, making impulsive and life changing decisions with very little foresight or appreciation for the consequences. I’ve cut people out, quit without notice, and generally acted like a wild and startled animal and not the intelligent homo sapien I am.

For my dog, those actions have resulted in several face-to-face confrontations with angry skunks.  For me, they have resulted in having to reinvent myself almost from scratch more times than I’d like to admit.

The irony of both our situations is that I believe we are both desperately trying to deal with paralyzing fear. Acting quickly, impulsively and desperately is often the only way for either one of us able to do anything without feeling our insecurities.

In the midst of all the pandemic restrictions, collective mental health crisis, and general world upheaval I’ve been approached with and accepted a job offer. Most people that know me well agree that this is an overdue and largely positive move. They reassure me that I am making a good decision and remind me of how much in my life has changed for the better over my last two years of getting vulnerable and uncomfortable…

But – I’m full of doubt and apprehension.

I am faced with the uncomfortable truth that I rarely feel good about my decisions. This is not about the lack of guarantees, the uncertainty, or any number of things that I believe are normal to feel in the face of change.  This is, like many things, another opportunity to examine how old habits are no longer serving me.

Even as a young and idealistic Jess, I didn’t get a lot of unbiased encouragement. I was lead to believe that even the most simple of personal needs or aspirations were selfish and somehow wrong. That things that were about me actually had a larger and more significant impact on others. I’ve spent most of my life believing that I am unable to do things myself, or rely on myself to make good decisions.

As a final carrot to stay at my old company I was offered a mentorship from a leader who told me they were sorry that I was uncertain of my value to the company and wanted to lead me to greater potential.

I know, right?

They could not have picked something that would be more attractive.

Screw money and title, VALIDATE ME and save me!!!!!

In lamenting this new offer, I was whining to a good and supportive friend, ripping apart (yet again) my decision to leave and leap into the unknown. He said, “you’ve always had to make it on your own, when somebody finally comes along to help it’s understandable that it should be both very strange and very attractive.”

It was like being slapped across the face.

I realized that I was being offered something abstract and that tying my success and perceived value to any one person was another attempt to fill the gaping void I’ve been clogging with food, alcohol, and emotionally unavailable people for the majority of my life.

It was a reminder that believing I’m not capable of things on my own is no longer an appropriate way to survive.  It was a reminder that I don’t accept that kind of emotional abuse anymore.

So here I am, sitting in my last few weeks of work ready to run and leap off of the deck into the dark again.  Truthfully, I’m still scared shitless, but at least I’m confident that I’ll make my way through it this time; as I always have before.

Pandemic

woman holding on railings
Photo by Maycon Marmo on Pexels.com

I don’t know about you, but the current state of the world has my mental health on the ropes. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact cause: boredom, social isolation, an overload of COVID-19 news coverage; but I suspect any one of these elements alone is enough to topple the metaphorical apple cart.

After several weeks of self care, trying to be there for my friends and family and attempting not to burden my partner with my “crazy” it occurred to me in an insomniatic moment last night that how I feel right now is very similar to how I felt living with addiction.

Being codependent, for me, is a balance between ego and insecurity. In my experience, a major part of addiction (and codependency) is the inability to take ownership for yourself, your actions, and your consequences. Growing up with addiction, and finding it again as an adult, my ability to own what was *actually* my responsibility was damaged. I remember having the distinct impression that everything related to other people was somehow my fault. Unfortunately, that impression was not discouraged by the addicts in my life that were all too ready to blame someone else for their problems. So the addicts totally avoided responsibility for anything, and I avoided responsibility for what was actually mine in favour of what didn’t belong to me.

I felt (and was helped to feel) that I had incredible power over the happiness of others.  This was, of course, false and all my efforts to influence things were spectacularly unsuccessful.  I would then attack myself for failing at everything that was not actually mine to succeed at.

You still with me?

Most of the time this process was distilled into feeling helpless, angry, depressed, guilty, isolated, and desperate.  I didn’t know how to tell myself that everything was going to be okay because there was no clear solution or any indication of how long it would take to get there. I constantly felt like I needed to take action, but since there wasn’t actually an action to take which would get the results I wanted, I usually did the wrong thing, felt shitty, or both.

Talking to my friends, family, and colleagues these are common collective feelings we are all having in light of the current societal challenges. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has complained to me in the last 3 weeks that this would be manageable if we only knew how long this would last, because surely this is not living.

Amen. I believe the familiarity of all these feelings is what is causing me to have to fight backsliding into my own unhealthy coping strategies.

I wish I could tell you how long this thing will last and that everything will return to normal soon…. But I think it would actually be more helpful to share a few things that I learned in recovery:

  1. Everything is temporary. Really.
  2. Focus on what you can control (hint: this is not how another adult feels / what they do)
  3. Make time to get your heart rate up and move.
  4. If possible, get outside.
  5. Do something you enjoy.  Preferably that doesn’t require any one else’s participation.
  6. If all else fails, return to the present moment.  Stop worrying so far ahead and remember that you can do anything for one day. Just worry about today.
  7. Repeat: Everything is temporary.

And finally – remember that, as a species (and as individuals), we have made it through all of our days before this one.  There is no reason to think that won’t continue.

Stay safe & stay home.

-J

 

Love Shouldn’t be a Hustle

Recently I re-entered the dating scene. I’ve attempted this a few times since the end of my relationship with my addict, and truthfully, I wasn’t ready. Those experiences were disastrous and left me feeling more insecure, pitiful, and dejected. Following the last disappointing date, I decided to take another break and threw myself into recovery full time. Six months later, I feel like a new and improved version of myself, with the bulk of my baggage neatly sorted and stored away.

Reflecting on my relationships, I’ve always been drawn to the most emotionally unavailable and wounded people in the room; both as friends and romantic partners. Although not a conscious thought, I realize this is because I found them comfortable. My “normal” is not love that is freely given. My “normal” is love that has to be proven time and time again through obligation, sacrifice, and strife. Anything else feels insincere.

For the first time, I find myself faced with someone that wants to be with me and tells me so freely. He makes no effort to hide his attraction and admiration. He is patient and understanding when I say I want to slow down and seems invested in giving us the opportunity to grow together, at whatever pace I choose. His actions do not feel conditional or with the expectation of reciprocity; it sincerely feels like he is trying to have a good experience and is hopeful that things will work out. He is making space in his life without me asking and treating me like I have value worth respecting. Unlike my experiences in the past, he is available and not forceful but softly and persistently reassuring.

The insecurity gremlins warn me that this is probably a con, that love should not be so freely given, that I should be hustling and am not deserving…

But, for the first time, I’m not listening. I understand that everything has an element of risk and reward. That I may get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I understand that my part is to show up, be present, and participate as authentically and directly as I can manage. No more, no less. I understand that it’s okay to be optimistic and that worrying won’t do anything but make me miserable when I should be joyful.

I also understand that whether this works out or not, I do have value and I am deserving of love that is freely given. I understand that it is one of the easiest things for us to provide each other and most of us hold it back selfishly in our romantic and non-romantic relationships alike. I understand that we do this out of fear and to protect our misguided notions of love with obligations. I understand that for many of us, it is easier to hate than love because that is most of what we’ve known ourselves.

Like most life events post-recovery, dating is lending itself to reflection and introspection as I balance living in the moment with self-awareness. One day at a time, I’m working at putting my new healthier strategies in play and keeping the gremlins in the penalty box.

When I first started this journey, I was under the impression that eventually I would be cured. I understand now that isn’t the whole story. The more I practice, the more automatic things become as I get more confident and trusting of the process. But I also understand that this is a lifelong journey. The gremlins never totally go away, with considerable effort they loose their power and urgency.

And that’s okay.

At the suggestion of a friend, I recently re-read the blog from start to finish. I was, and am still, in shock of how different my writing is. I am less scattered, desperate, and hurt. It actually reads to me as almost peaceful in parts. I understand that I’m up to the challenge of continuing this process for the rest of my life; that it is possible to grow and overcome and it will be just as rewarding 10 years from now as it is today.

To those of you that continue to come back, who reach out, who share your journeys with me and also who maintain your own blogs chronicling your path: thank you. You inspire me by sharing those hard lessons, the backslides, and the successes. You help keep me grounded and remind me why there is value in growth and recovery. As hard as this process is some days, I wouldn’t change it.

Let’s not go back to sleepwalking in the land of scarcity.

 

 

Closure

Traditionally, my idea of closure came with an airing of laundry. I’d fantasize about blowouts where both parties would come together, say anything and everything, bury the hatchet and everything would be perfect. The underlying issues would disappear and life would go on.

I would use my fantastic overthinking abilities to script these confrontations, painstakingly cataloging and rehearsing all the events and ideas I would bring up to ensure that the encounter would go my way.

I admit this with profound embarassment but total honesty.

One day at a time I fight that impulse because I understand this is part of the conditioning that drives me to try and control everything around me. It is a coping strategy designed to curb my fear of the unknown and try and protect myself from risk and pain.

It is also totally unrealistic, ineffective, and serves only to prolong the length of time that I hold on to things. It impedes my ability to let go and get on to bigger and better things. It steals my energy and my serenity.

If you’ve had experience with someone in the mid- to late-stages of addiction you understand there is a lot of unethical, selfish, and baffling behaviour. You’ve probably been hurt in ways you didn’t think possible by someone’s apparent disregard for your needs and feelings. You probably feel that you deserve an apology..

And you do.

But the funny thing about words is that they are cheap and easy to deliver. I choose to believe that most people don’t knowingly and hurtfully deliver promises they don’t intend to keep or words they don’t really mean. I choose to believe that most people intend what they say in the moment, but that many of us have lost sight of what integrity of speech really means and don’t take the time to consider the weight of what we are saying.

There are unfortunately many times when people say or promise things they are unwilling or unable to deliver.

There is a chance that the words you are waiting to hear may never come from the person you feel owes them to you. There is also a chance that if they do, they will lack the appropriate action and change in behaviour that makes them meaningful. Because, really, an apology without those things is totally worthless.

But, because I understand that grief needs release and a catalyst, I wanted to share this letter that I stumbled across early in my recovery journey.

You didn’t deserve this.

I am an addict, representing all addicts. I might be your daughter, your son, husband, wife, mother, father or friend.

You might be reading this because you are searching for answers, hope, encouragement or some kind of comfort. You are hurting, yet you continue reading, because you have a loved one you really care about and maybe you even wished many a time for things to change. This loved one, may be better known as; the lost cause, the underdog, the pain bearer, the hopeless one, the destructor, or any other negative name, but finally this loved one, is better known as the addict!

As I go through the process of getting my act together and getting clean, I am not only struggling with the physical, emotional and mental withdrawals, but the regret, guilt, shame, agony and pain of what I have put you through. Dealing and facing what I have done and caused is breaking my heart into a million pieces in the very same way I, the addict, have caused your heart to break so many times. Regretfully, I want to apologize and say that I am sorry, for you did not deserve this.

I am sorry for the years of hell which I put you through; the many arguments, the fights, the screaming, shouting and the calling of names. I am sorry for breaking down your entire human being. You did not deserve this.

I am sorry for all the lying, stealing, robbing, cheating, breaking of our vows and for deceiving you. I am sorry that I have traded you for my drug of choice. I am sorry that I stole your inner peace, your sanity and for breaking your trust in me. You did not deserve this.

I am sorry for the many nights I have robbed you from your sleep, for stealing the car in the middle of the night, for all the time you spent driving around searching for me. I am sorry for all the phone calls I never answered, for shutting you out and not letting you know where I am. I am sorry that I have placed you in danger so many times. You did not deserve this.

I am sorry for all the suicidal attempts and the accidental overdoses. It was never my intention to hurt you, but the desperation to kill this addict inside of me. You did not deserve this.

I am sorry for neglecting you and our children. I am sorry that I never had the time to care for you or show you just how much I really love you. I am sorry that I was never around when you needed me. I am sorry that I did not fulfill the role I was meant to do. I am sorry for crushing your spirit and then walking all over it. I am sorry. You did not deserve this.

I am sorry for the heartache, the ocean of tears and all the many worries I have caused. I am sorry that my habit was the reason that we lost it all, the house, the cars, the furniture, our family and our friends. I am sorry that I have even lost you in the process. I am sorry for placing a financial burden upon you. I am sorry that I, the addict, caused that you also have lost it all. I am truly sorry and wish I could undo all I have ever done, but I cannot do so. All I can do is to say that I am sorry, for you did not deserve this.

I, the addict, acknowledge my powerlessness against addiction. I reached the point, crying out: “Please, please, I need help, I need healing, I want it to stop, I want to get off!”, but so also, you cried the same cries many a time. I have placed you in a position of powerlessness yourself, not knowing what to do, or where to go from here anymore. I am infected, but I know that in every area of your life, because of this addict, you were also affected. I am sorry, you did not deserve this.

The real me, searching for answers, has stopped playing the blame game; everything I did was my choice. I never thought that one time of using would turn me into the monster I became, yet, although it is hard to acknowledge, everything I did was my own choice. You had nothing to do with it! I was not your choice; it was not your fault, you have not caused any of this! Therefore I am pleading with you, that you would stop playing this blame game too, for it is the addict which caused it all. It may sound harsh, but I want to ensure you that your healing will also start, if you decide to forgive yourself for the things which were out of your control, as I was the one who made my own choice. You may even need more time, more healing, as I the addict need to restore because of the things I have done. I am sorry for the guilt or thoughts I have placed in your head that you were the reason for my addiction. I am sorry for doing that to you, you did not deserve this. 

I cannot make any promises, because my words were nothing but emptiness before. How many times did I promise, I will never do it again and honestly meant it, yet the addict had a stronger hold then I thought. Today I understand things better, and if you are willing, I want to show you who I have discovered and who I really am. Thank you for a second chance, a third, a fourth and even a hundredth time. I am thankful to God and for the opportunity of another chance in life.

Whatever you do to find your own healing or restoration, I will respect and accept that. You may never trust me again, nor respect me, and I know too well that I deserve this. Should you decide to police me, or watch me like a hawk, set limits, boundaries or rules, or even decide to move on without me, I will understand and know that it is because you love me and only want to protect me as well as yourself against the addiction which stole our love, our relationship, trust and bond. I am sorry for even putting you through this, for you do not deserve this

Therefore I ask. Will you please find it in your heart, to forgive me for everything I have done, caused and put you through? Will you allow time to pass to learn that I really have changed until even I am fully aware of my full identity of who I really am? I do not deserve this. 

I am so, so sorry, for you did not deserve any of this

With both love and much regret,

The addict (Posted by MercyChild on April 16, 2012)