Helping others and accepting help seems to be the theme of my meditation books today.
There is no sin in asking for and accepting help with our recovery, or anything else for that matter. We did NOT do it alone. We had many people help us in recovery. Often we were provided with food, shelter, etc. when a lot of us went to treatment. Most of us had to accept emotional and spiritual help from a drug counselor or two. For some addicts/alcoholics it is too much to have to "step down" from the high horse of grandiosity to accept spiritual help from a drug counselor or a recovering addict. Our egos tend to get huge and stretched very thin when we are actively using substances.
Oh, yes, and grandiosity is something too, that a lot of us needed help with.
We have each other too. We often need help from other addicts. Using addicts usually have "more important" things to do (like getting high) to help us out. But often we can count on recovering addicts and alcoholics. If we get cravings we can call someone in the program.
If we have tragedy happen, we can call someone in the program to help us out with our possibly overwhelming emotions.
We don't need to feel trusting to accept help. We can still be suspicious of others motives, and still accept help! We can go to a meeting in spite of how nervous or suspicious we are. We can think what we want or do.... As long as those feelings and thoughts don't get in the way of recovery. Thoughts and feelings won't kill us, but it is likely that abusing drugs and alcohol will. We all need help getting rid of drugs. We often need medical help with withdrawals. And, it seems, a lot of us have some kind of mental illness that may have provoked our self-medication in the first place that needs treatment.
For me, help with my mind was the hardest to accept. I have a good mind, but I have chemical imbalances in my brain. I'm still not that forthcoming with thoughts a lot of the time. I did not reach out to a psychiatrist for my depression. I figured it was all situational. I thought my mental/emotional condition would eventually straighten itself out. It evolved (or rather, devolved) into schizophrenia..... And while I was psychotic -- I still didn't want help. I wanted to fix it myself. There is no such thing as being smart enough to fix the chemical imbalances of the brain. One cannot outsmart a real illness! Eventually though, things got so bad that I HAD to accept help from someone. I had no choice. I was practically kicking and screaming in protest however.
I'm a good one for pretending everything is okay a lot of the time. And now that I'm in recovery, I don't have to pretend -- everything often is okay for real.
Part of recovery is the twelfth step work we do (after we've done the eleven other steps -- of course). We must reach out to help others. We share our experience, strength and hope and hope that it helps someone else. We encourage others to stay in recovery. People need people to find serenity. Now, I'm not talking about codependent neediness, but we do need people in our lives to stay recovered and content. We often provide rides to meetings, we sponsor each other, we are available to answer the phone and the door to other recovering people.
We reach out to those who are still suffering. We let them know that we are not their doormat, but we are willing to help them find a better way of life....
God/dess wants us to appreciate each other for our special talents and abilities so God/dess lets us lean on one another. To help others and accept help in our spiritual growth is a higher path.... No wo/man is an island and knows everything there is to know. God/dess meant it to be this way.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Holidays
Well, Christmas and New Year's Day are coming up soon and I've been thinking a bit about them. Christmas happens to be one of my favorite holidays. Possibly my favorite, after Halloween. Although I could do without the frigid temperatures and multiple feet of snow.... I've lived through several "green Christmases" and I don't mind there not being snow. Truth be told, I really hate snow... even on Christmas!
I have not spent the holidays with family in over 20 years now. They have never called me on the holidays or sent me cards, much less invited me over.... It was always me that called them on Christmas and Thanksgiving. They've complained about me moving around a lot since I moved away from my parents, but I really didn't move too much, and I always gave them my new phone number and address when I've moved. Since I committed my crime, I no longer feel obligated to talk to people who have legally made it so I cannot contact them, and it's okay. However, I still love Christmas. I refuse to be one of those lonely depressed meandering souls on Christmas. Perhaps it helped that that was the only time of year my stepmonster was mellow and mostly cheerful when I was growing up. She would actually bake cookies and stuff. We, my brother and I, actually got to spend time in the living room on that holiday. (The rest of the year it was either spend time in our bedrooms or in the basement. Most of the time it was the basement for us.) Christmas became a peaceful time of year to me, because of that.
I usually spend my holidays with friends. For its friends that I'm most thankful for in my life. I've spent periods where I was convinced I had no friends. Those were rough patches....
When I was using I missed seven Christmases. I really cannot, for the life of me, remember what I did during those Christmases I was addicted. That's one of the things that's been on my mind lately concerning the holidays. It's a bit disturbing to not remember one of one's favorite holidays.... I think I just plain refused to celebrate any of the holidays during those years.
Not that it's an excuse to use, but at the beginning of my addiction I was fed up with the behavior of a very close friend who I had spent about 9-10 of the previous holiday seasons with. We treated each other as family on the holidays usually. I enjoyed spending time with her and her family on the holidays. She, however, often used me for free child care without payment OR thanks. She would have lost her kids in her custody battle with her violent ex husband if I hadn't been there to care for them when she could or would not. Or someone would have called CPS on her. She rarely got up before noon and young children need their breakfast and supervision in the mornings, especially if they are too young to know not to run outside into the street! She never said a bad word about her ex husband; it was her mother who told me that he had thrown a dinner platter at her head. I never liked the man, he used to beat the crap out of Samantha (his daughter) while potty training her. He hit on me several times even though I adamantly said I was NOT interested. She never once, during the custody battle mentioned his violence. Ah, well, her behavior and denial is customary for an addict.... She does like her pain pills for her cough-less bronchitis....
Ah, but, I AM thankful the kids were never removed from their family. I am thankful that I got to help raise kids after giving up my first daughter for adoption. It was nice to get to know a child or two, even though I don't really know my own. You see, my old best friend is Cajun and I know for a fact that CPS is really hard on Native American people. She doesn't really trust anybody that is full blooded anything, including whites. So she doesn't seek help much for her issues.... Prejudice is real, and I'm positive it would have worked against her in a custody battle of any kind. Often white authority figures want to kill the spirituality of many Native Americans. They want them to integrate into white society. They want them to work for other white people often. It doesn't seem to matter that PTSD (and addiction) interferes with her working (some stupid wage slave job) in a serious way. She has problems in college for the same reasons.... I had the time and the energy for many years -- so I decided I could help with the kids.
I can't think about Christmas without thinking about her and her family. I often miss them -- although I'm not sure I miss my old best friend, herself.... I think the lack of gratitude burned me out a little. That and the lack of a desire to get better....
This holiday season, I have many things to be grateful for....
I've lived in this town long enough that I have finally got a circle of friends to spend time with. I have a few old friends back in my life too that I can talk to about the stuff that happened "back then." I have my own apartment. I am grateful that I can have spaghetti on Christmas without irritating any one! (I live alone!) I may not be getting many gifts this year, but that was never what it was about to me.... I was a weird kid, I loved giving more then receiving even then. It was fun watching people's faces when they'd open their gifts! I'm not sure I really will be able to buy too much for others this year either.... However this year, I think I will make fudge and give that to people!
I am grateful that I will be able to remember this Christmas! This Christmas may actually be worth remembering since I have those friends (and a cool sponsor) to spend it with, too.
I have not spent the holidays with family in over 20 years now. They have never called me on the holidays or sent me cards, much less invited me over.... It was always me that called them on Christmas and Thanksgiving. They've complained about me moving around a lot since I moved away from my parents, but I really didn't move too much, and I always gave them my new phone number and address when I've moved. Since I committed my crime, I no longer feel obligated to talk to people who have legally made it so I cannot contact them, and it's okay. However, I still love Christmas. I refuse to be one of those lonely depressed meandering souls on Christmas. Perhaps it helped that that was the only time of year my stepmonster was mellow and mostly cheerful when I was growing up. She would actually bake cookies and stuff. We, my brother and I, actually got to spend time in the living room on that holiday. (The rest of the year it was either spend time in our bedrooms or in the basement. Most of the time it was the basement for us.) Christmas became a peaceful time of year to me, because of that.
I usually spend my holidays with friends. For its friends that I'm most thankful for in my life. I've spent periods where I was convinced I had no friends. Those were rough patches....
When I was using I missed seven Christmases. I really cannot, for the life of me, remember what I did during those Christmases I was addicted. That's one of the things that's been on my mind lately concerning the holidays. It's a bit disturbing to not remember one of one's favorite holidays.... I think I just plain refused to celebrate any of the holidays during those years.
Not that it's an excuse to use, but at the beginning of my addiction I was fed up with the behavior of a very close friend who I had spent about 9-10 of the previous holiday seasons with. We treated each other as family on the holidays usually. I enjoyed spending time with her and her family on the holidays. She, however, often used me for free child care without payment OR thanks. She would have lost her kids in her custody battle with her violent ex husband if I hadn't been there to care for them when she could or would not. Or someone would have called CPS on her. She rarely got up before noon and young children need their breakfast and supervision in the mornings, especially if they are too young to know not to run outside into the street! She never said a bad word about her ex husband; it was her mother who told me that he had thrown a dinner platter at her head. I never liked the man, he used to beat the crap out of Samantha (his daughter) while potty training her. He hit on me several times even though I adamantly said I was NOT interested. She never once, during the custody battle mentioned his violence. Ah, well, her behavior and denial is customary for an addict.... She does like her pain pills for her cough-less bronchitis....
Ah, but, I AM thankful the kids were never removed from their family. I am thankful that I got to help raise kids after giving up my first daughter for adoption. It was nice to get to know a child or two, even though I don't really know my own. You see, my old best friend is Cajun and I know for a fact that CPS is really hard on Native American people. She doesn't really trust anybody that is full blooded anything, including whites. So she doesn't seek help much for her issues.... Prejudice is real, and I'm positive it would have worked against her in a custody battle of any kind. Often white authority figures want to kill the spirituality of many Native Americans. They want them to integrate into white society. They want them to work for other white people often. It doesn't seem to matter that PTSD (and addiction) interferes with her working (some stupid wage slave job) in a serious way. She has problems in college for the same reasons.... I had the time and the energy for many years -- so I decided I could help with the kids.
I can't think about Christmas without thinking about her and her family. I often miss them -- although I'm not sure I miss my old best friend, herself.... I think the lack of gratitude burned me out a little. That and the lack of a desire to get better....
This holiday season, I have many things to be grateful for....
I've lived in this town long enough that I have finally got a circle of friends to spend time with. I have a few old friends back in my life too that I can talk to about the stuff that happened "back then." I have my own apartment. I am grateful that I can have spaghetti on Christmas without irritating any one! (I live alone!) I may not be getting many gifts this year, but that was never what it was about to me.... I was a weird kid, I loved giving more then receiving even then. It was fun watching people's faces when they'd open their gifts! I'm not sure I really will be able to buy too much for others this year either.... However this year, I think I will make fudge and give that to people!
I am grateful that I will be able to remember this Christmas! This Christmas may actually be worth remembering since I have those friends (and a cool sponsor) to spend it with, too.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Relationships
I am staying away from romantic relationships for awhile....
It seems to me that men just expect too much. I have a difficult enough time cleaning up after myself. I've got enough emotional baggage of my own that I don't need someone else's too.
"One of the biggest stumbling blocks seems to be in placing unrealistic expections on ourselves or others. Relationships can be a terribly painful area."
Basic Text pg 78
Before I became an addict I had several "relationships" with men who had pushed me into sex and/or taken advantage of me. I guess it was an unrealistic expectation that they treat me with decency and respect. I'm not sure it was my issue of self respect that made me go back for more abuse..... It was more in the spirit of forgiveness and tolerance for me. I thought I could teach them to be better people, to learn the value of being "good," to touch me the way I wanted to be touched, etc. I was a very confused person. I believed that if they must "desire" me that much it must be love. I'd get a physical reaction often when they'd touch me that I could not help and I was certain, on some level, that that was what encouraged them to take me further then I wanted to go. I was so certain they could "see right through me." It was quite a pattern -- I'd tell male "friends" up front that I was not interested in a "sexual relationship" and they'd all ignore it. I was also clinically depressed -- at times severely depressed -- and had a hard enough time seeing any kind of hope.
A lot of these men were also addicts or alcoholics (or both.) They often promoted and pushed drug use upon me. I got so tired of running from addicts that I just gave in. The pot smokers seemed the least disturbed by reality -- so I thought if I smoked it too, my reality wouldn't disturb me any more.
I was married once to a very abusive alcoholic I met in the Navy when I was enlisted. That relationship lasted three long years. He convinced me to try LSD for the first time. He'd rape me while we were "frying." He never asked permission or took "no" for an answer when he wanted it. He just started grabbing my body parts and kissing me like a fish. He never quit doing oral sex when I wanted to quit. He never would stop grinding around on top of me till I had an "orgasm" first. He loved to drink and smoke pot and do LSD. He rarely had a job. I often faked it with him just to get him to climb off of me. He, of course, never listened to what I wanted in bed. There was no affection allowed -- hugs always went further then I wanted them to.
I learned when I was little that men often wanted one thing. I learned that it took a lot of figuring out how to outsmart them into not wanting that from me any more. It seemed like such an awful lot of work to get a man to quit taking that thing from me. It seemed a lot easier to just give them what they wanted. I was afraid that I would get punched in the face if I fought back too much. It never seems to occur to me to scream for help. When I was little and getting raped, I couldn't breathe well enough to scream, and it never became a habit.
These "relationships" -- including my marraige and those following (which seemed like being married to my ex all over again) really traumatized me. I have been taken advantage of by at least 50 men over my lifetime. Often repeatedly. It gave me all the excuses I needed to use drugs. I thought that they would help me cope with the pain. I figured if it would give me pleasure it would take away the pain. Pleasure doesn't get rid of pain though as I soon found out. Being high started to make me anxious all the time. There was nobody to talk to about it either that I knew of at the time. My whole family refuses to believe in sexual abuse and that it could have happened to me. Most of my family has a drug or alcohol problem and thrives on denial. Some of my family is also sexually abusive. I can't have relationships with people I can't be honest with so I am staying out of my familial relationships as well. A lot of people really believe they are the "black sheep" without actually being that. I'm certain I am.... Being in recovery from mental illness, depression, drug addiction, and PTSD makes me even more of a black sheep. I don't believe my family believes in recovery, mental illness, depression, that they are addicts or that sexual abuse causes PTSD. They don't accept that these things interfere with "finding a good job" and "keeping up with the Joneses." That, and it was totally unacceptable to all of them that I committed a crime against one of my abusers. They subsequently disowned me and took out "no contact" orders against me. I guess it was the "last straw." To me, it was like having a tumor removed -- it hurt, but I felt much better afterward.
Friendship to me is the only relationship worth having. I really love my friends. I take care of my friends. I don't stay where I'm not wanted either. I believe to have friends, one must be a friend. My friends are my family. I believe that real friendship is a two way street, and I no longer feed the leeches. I've learned that respecting myself is also an action. I figured that out when I was using, and have continued to learn about respecting myself more since I've found recovery. I've also learned that the truth can be an effective weapon against predatory types if it is coupled with a kind of fearlessness. I know it isn't my fault if one of those types decides to hit me. I'm not really afraid of pain or death and will tell the worst monsters off if I have to. I will point out their flaws to their faces. I will call it out as I see it if I feel I am being taken advantage of. I will not go back for more anymore. I will escape from them as soon as possible. I will enlist the aid of others if necessary -- although I've found the police and DA's to be the least helpful of allies to me.....
I also have my relationship with Jesus and the Goddess. (I believe in both entities) They keep me from feeling lonely. I know there is life after this and I will get to see my mother again if I do die. It wasn't till I found recovery that the whole concept of there being a real higher power started to make sense. That is, recovery from mental illnesses and drug addiction. In jail, I was given a bookmark that said "God is Love" That's when it all began to make sense. I don't know if it was "just" my mental illness that made me see angels and Jesus when I was addicted, but now I know that those kinds of things are real. To me it just isn't worth it to find a romantic relationship and with my close relationship to my higher power(s) I almost never get lonely. Plus I really enjoy my freedom and being single. I only have me to clean up after! I don't have to report where I am going or when I'll be back. I LIKE sleeping alone and can hog the bed and covers to myself! Quite frankly, my uncle spoiled french kissing for me, and I don't really like that much either. I guess I'm just having too much fun to have it any other way. Life is good nowadays. I find that without the "sexual curiousity" I get in less trouble. I don't respond well to being "hit on" and am not the least bit curious about men who "hit on" me any more -- no matter how honest it seems.
I'm not afraid to be rude if I need to -- to people looking for sexual and/or drugging partners. I guess that's what it takes. My sanity is just too valuable to me now.
It seems to me that men just expect too much. I have a difficult enough time cleaning up after myself. I've got enough emotional baggage of my own that I don't need someone else's too.
"One of the biggest stumbling blocks seems to be in placing unrealistic expections on ourselves or others. Relationships can be a terribly painful area."
Basic Text pg 78
Before I became an addict I had several "relationships" with men who had pushed me into sex and/or taken advantage of me. I guess it was an unrealistic expectation that they treat me with decency and respect. I'm not sure it was my issue of self respect that made me go back for more abuse..... It was more in the spirit of forgiveness and tolerance for me. I thought I could teach them to be better people, to learn the value of being "good," to touch me the way I wanted to be touched, etc. I was a very confused person. I believed that if they must "desire" me that much it must be love. I'd get a physical reaction often when they'd touch me that I could not help and I was certain, on some level, that that was what encouraged them to take me further then I wanted to go. I was so certain they could "see right through me." It was quite a pattern -- I'd tell male "friends" up front that I was not interested in a "sexual relationship" and they'd all ignore it. I was also clinically depressed -- at times severely depressed -- and had a hard enough time seeing any kind of hope.
A lot of these men were also addicts or alcoholics (or both.) They often promoted and pushed drug use upon me. I got so tired of running from addicts that I just gave in. The pot smokers seemed the least disturbed by reality -- so I thought if I smoked it too, my reality wouldn't disturb me any more.
I was married once to a very abusive alcoholic I met in the Navy when I was enlisted. That relationship lasted three long years. He convinced me to try LSD for the first time. He'd rape me while we were "frying." He never asked permission or took "no" for an answer when he wanted it. He just started grabbing my body parts and kissing me like a fish. He never quit doing oral sex when I wanted to quit. He never would stop grinding around on top of me till I had an "orgasm" first. He loved to drink and smoke pot and do LSD. He rarely had a job. I often faked it with him just to get him to climb off of me. He, of course, never listened to what I wanted in bed. There was no affection allowed -- hugs always went further then I wanted them to.
I learned when I was little that men often wanted one thing. I learned that it took a lot of figuring out how to outsmart them into not wanting that from me any more. It seemed like such an awful lot of work to get a man to quit taking that thing from me. It seemed a lot easier to just give them what they wanted. I was afraid that I would get punched in the face if I fought back too much. It never seems to occur to me to scream for help. When I was little and getting raped, I couldn't breathe well enough to scream, and it never became a habit.
These "relationships" -- including my marraige and those following (which seemed like being married to my ex all over again) really traumatized me. I have been taken advantage of by at least 50 men over my lifetime. Often repeatedly. It gave me all the excuses I needed to use drugs. I thought that they would help me cope with the pain. I figured if it would give me pleasure it would take away the pain. Pleasure doesn't get rid of pain though as I soon found out. Being high started to make me anxious all the time. There was nobody to talk to about it either that I knew of at the time. My whole family refuses to believe in sexual abuse and that it could have happened to me. Most of my family has a drug or alcohol problem and thrives on denial. Some of my family is also sexually abusive. I can't have relationships with people I can't be honest with so I am staying out of my familial relationships as well. A lot of people really believe they are the "black sheep" without actually being that. I'm certain I am.... Being in recovery from mental illness, depression, drug addiction, and PTSD makes me even more of a black sheep. I don't believe my family believes in recovery, mental illness, depression, that they are addicts or that sexual abuse causes PTSD. They don't accept that these things interfere with "finding a good job" and "keeping up with the Joneses." That, and it was totally unacceptable to all of them that I committed a crime against one of my abusers. They subsequently disowned me and took out "no contact" orders against me. I guess it was the "last straw." To me, it was like having a tumor removed -- it hurt, but I felt much better afterward.
Friendship to me is the only relationship worth having. I really love my friends. I take care of my friends. I don't stay where I'm not wanted either. I believe to have friends, one must be a friend. My friends are my family. I believe that real friendship is a two way street, and I no longer feed the leeches. I've learned that respecting myself is also an action. I figured that out when I was using, and have continued to learn about respecting myself more since I've found recovery. I've also learned that the truth can be an effective weapon against predatory types if it is coupled with a kind of fearlessness. I know it isn't my fault if one of those types decides to hit me. I'm not really afraid of pain or death and will tell the worst monsters off if I have to. I will point out their flaws to their faces. I will call it out as I see it if I feel I am being taken advantage of. I will not go back for more anymore. I will escape from them as soon as possible. I will enlist the aid of others if necessary -- although I've found the police and DA's to be the least helpful of allies to me.....
I also have my relationship with Jesus and the Goddess. (I believe in both entities) They keep me from feeling lonely. I know there is life after this and I will get to see my mother again if I do die. It wasn't till I found recovery that the whole concept of there being a real higher power started to make sense. That is, recovery from mental illnesses and drug addiction. In jail, I was given a bookmark that said "God is Love" That's when it all began to make sense. I don't know if it was "just" my mental illness that made me see angels and Jesus when I was addicted, but now I know that those kinds of things are real. To me it just isn't worth it to find a romantic relationship and with my close relationship to my higher power(s) I almost never get lonely. Plus I really enjoy my freedom and being single. I only have me to clean up after! I don't have to report where I am going or when I'll be back. I LIKE sleeping alone and can hog the bed and covers to myself! Quite frankly, my uncle spoiled french kissing for me, and I don't really like that much either. I guess I'm just having too much fun to have it any other way. Life is good nowadays. I find that without the "sexual curiousity" I get in less trouble. I don't respond well to being "hit on" and am not the least bit curious about men who "hit on" me any more -- no matter how honest it seems.
I'm not afraid to be rude if I need to -- to people looking for sexual and/or drugging partners. I guess that's what it takes. My sanity is just too valuable to me now.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Recovery Is Reality
Recovery is all about dealing with reality. It IS reality for me and many others who are in recovery. Recovery is all about being real. It's about facing and showing our real selves. I almost feel sorry for those who don't find any kind of recovery, whether it be from addiction, alcoholism, abuse, gambling, overeating, etc.... It is a reality that there is a higher place, and the higher we go the better we feel and the better off we are.
I used to feel so isolated and alone. Before I started using regularly, I was very much into becoming "enlightened." Other's didn't seem to be interested in enlightenment much.... Of course, I was not hanging out with recovering people then. I used to use I statements. I'd try to compromise in conflicts. I tried to show love to others. Few people would even meet me halfway. It seemed like most of the conflicts I was involved in involved accusations or people giving me orders without explanations or compassion for my feelings.
I've said this before; love is my higher power. Love is a reality. Love exists. Love is real! It is around even if we are using, clinically depressed, or certifiably insane.... I found love before I found recovery. Perhaps it was tainted with other's addictive behaviors, but it was always there and very real. I found love when I was actively addicted too, but I ran away from it. I'm not talking about romantic love, necessarily, either. To me, true friendship is the highest form of love there is. I had real friends. I found people who took care of me for brief periods of time when I was homeless and addicted. People gave to me. I was given money, food, shelter, clothing and transportation. Few of those people wanted anything in return.
Love helped restore my faith in humanity. It is of course, tempered with skepticism. I've had enough people lie to me, use me, and take advantage of me. I used to be such a sucker for a good sob story....
Love was such a rare commodity in my family. I've learned from my experiences that my kind of family is rarer then I thought it was. I've heard other war stories from recovering people about their families.... Love should never be "earned." It is meant to be given freely and shared. It is meant to be passed on to others. I was the kind of kid that was always shocked when I found out my elders were doing something wrong. I usually hid in denial when I found out they were breaking the law or doing immoral things. I was not the kind of kid that reported abuse. I guess I learned at an early age I wasn't worthy of love; to love myself was conceit, or something.
My love could not fix it! I tried to fix it a lot. I was also the kind of kid that used to think that if I couldn't do it myself, what could someone else possibly do about it?
My stubbornness (which runs in my family) is good for something though. I am stubborn about solving puzzles and figuring things out. I want to know how things work. I wanted to know how God worked. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why my parents were so uptight. My stubbornness has kept me in recovery. It keeps me doing things that are good for me. It keeps me trying to become the kind of parent I thought my parents should be. I am an avid reader of all kinds of stuff. I read long ago -- somewhere -- that love should be unconditional. From that point on I wondered why I was not getting unconditional love from family. I love love (be that good or bad -- that is the way I am.)
I am rather new to the area I am living in. I am having to build up my support system from scratch. My family wants nothing to do with me these days. I am not spending holidays with them, and it's been about 20 years since I was welcome in a family member's house on the holidays. The friends I spent the holidays with in the past are addicts, unfortunately. They live far away, and would not be good for me to be with now that I have the reality of recovery. Reality isn't always fuzzy pink clouds and rainbows and butterflies. It isn't always peaceful. Some people really object to me finding recovery. Some people really object to the truth. Seems some live their entire lives in denial -- although, granted, the truth is too hard to deal with while on drugs -- too shocking. Reality can be scary.
Reality, though is rich with experiences, emotions and yes, love. Love is my reality. I live and breathe love. I show love to mostly everyone. Love is mostly about giving, but it is also about graciously receiving. Love is about telling others the truth -- even if they don't like it or misunderstand. Love is about being honest, open minded and willing. I'm sure my new friends do feel love for me, even if it is a new love. Love is real! Love gets stronger in recovery, because addiction weakens our ability to give and receive love. Love is very frightening to an addict. Which explains why I was scared of everything, including love, when I was addicted. Love was an ideal when I was using, now it is my reality. I am no longer alone in trying to find that higher love. I am no longer alone in seeking enlightenment. I am no longer a lonely spiritual type.
For that I am grateful!
Oh, and I no longer let immoral, illegal acts slide. Sometimes love means choosing sides. I choose sides with the victims (or survivors). Sometimes love means sticking up for the underdog. I love myself enough to not let myself be victimized any more. God and Goddess love me too. They loved me before others showed me love, and definitely before I loved and took care of myself emotionally. I know that means loving myself unconditionally..... I am recovering from abuse too, and that is reality too. We won't find reality when we are escaping from it with chemicals and substances. We won't recover from our pain until we start to actually recover. That is a fact and therefore, reality. I am not perfect and I love it! The real me is not so screwed up any more, and people accept the real me easier then they used to because I am recovering. It is okay to be me; that, too, is reality. I also love my imperfect friends dearly. I feel good about myself -- even when reality is unpleasant -- because of love, and that is priceless.
I used to feel so isolated and alone. Before I started using regularly, I was very much into becoming "enlightened." Other's didn't seem to be interested in enlightenment much.... Of course, I was not hanging out with recovering people then. I used to use I statements. I'd try to compromise in conflicts. I tried to show love to others. Few people would even meet me halfway. It seemed like most of the conflicts I was involved in involved accusations or people giving me orders without explanations or compassion for my feelings.
I've said this before; love is my higher power. Love is a reality. Love exists. Love is real! It is around even if we are using, clinically depressed, or certifiably insane.... I found love before I found recovery. Perhaps it was tainted with other's addictive behaviors, but it was always there and very real. I found love when I was actively addicted too, but I ran away from it. I'm not talking about romantic love, necessarily, either. To me, true friendship is the highest form of love there is. I had real friends. I found people who took care of me for brief periods of time when I was homeless and addicted. People gave to me. I was given money, food, shelter, clothing and transportation. Few of those people wanted anything in return.
Love helped restore my faith in humanity. It is of course, tempered with skepticism. I've had enough people lie to me, use me, and take advantage of me. I used to be such a sucker for a good sob story....
Love was such a rare commodity in my family. I've learned from my experiences that my kind of family is rarer then I thought it was. I've heard other war stories from recovering people about their families.... Love should never be "earned." It is meant to be given freely and shared. It is meant to be passed on to others. I was the kind of kid that was always shocked when I found out my elders were doing something wrong. I usually hid in denial when I found out they were breaking the law or doing immoral things. I was not the kind of kid that reported abuse. I guess I learned at an early age I wasn't worthy of love; to love myself was conceit, or something.
My love could not fix it! I tried to fix it a lot. I was also the kind of kid that used to think that if I couldn't do it myself, what could someone else possibly do about it?
My stubbornness (which runs in my family) is good for something though. I am stubborn about solving puzzles and figuring things out. I want to know how things work. I wanted to know how God worked. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why my parents were so uptight. My stubbornness has kept me in recovery. It keeps me doing things that are good for me. It keeps me trying to become the kind of parent I thought my parents should be. I am an avid reader of all kinds of stuff. I read long ago -- somewhere -- that love should be unconditional. From that point on I wondered why I was not getting unconditional love from family. I love love (be that good or bad -- that is the way I am.)
I am rather new to the area I am living in. I am having to build up my support system from scratch. My family wants nothing to do with me these days. I am not spending holidays with them, and it's been about 20 years since I was welcome in a family member's house on the holidays. The friends I spent the holidays with in the past are addicts, unfortunately. They live far away, and would not be good for me to be with now that I have the reality of recovery. Reality isn't always fuzzy pink clouds and rainbows and butterflies. It isn't always peaceful. Some people really object to me finding recovery. Some people really object to the truth. Seems some live their entire lives in denial -- although, granted, the truth is too hard to deal with while on drugs -- too shocking. Reality can be scary.
Reality, though is rich with experiences, emotions and yes, love. Love is my reality. I live and breathe love. I show love to mostly everyone. Love is mostly about giving, but it is also about graciously receiving. Love is about telling others the truth -- even if they don't like it or misunderstand. Love is about being honest, open minded and willing. I'm sure my new friends do feel love for me, even if it is a new love. Love is real! Love gets stronger in recovery, because addiction weakens our ability to give and receive love. Love is very frightening to an addict. Which explains why I was scared of everything, including love, when I was addicted. Love was an ideal when I was using, now it is my reality. I am no longer alone in trying to find that higher love. I am no longer alone in seeking enlightenment. I am no longer a lonely spiritual type.
For that I am grateful!
Oh, and I no longer let immoral, illegal acts slide. Sometimes love means choosing sides. I choose sides with the victims (or survivors). Sometimes love means sticking up for the underdog. I love myself enough to not let myself be victimized any more. God and Goddess love me too. They loved me before others showed me love, and definitely before I loved and took care of myself emotionally. I know that means loving myself unconditionally..... I am recovering from abuse too, and that is reality too. We won't find reality when we are escaping from it with chemicals and substances. We won't recover from our pain until we start to actually recover. That is a fact and therefore, reality. I am not perfect and I love it! The real me is not so screwed up any more, and people accept the real me easier then they used to because I am recovering. It is okay to be me; that, too, is reality. I also love my imperfect friends dearly. I feel good about myself -- even when reality is unpleasant -- because of love, and that is priceless.
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