Day Fifteen:
Had a nice visit with my son, Connor. Though we were both anti-social and shy. I'm very tired and exhausted. I miss my family. I miss my outside life (though not the drinking binges). I'm feeling claustrophobic and everyone is irritating me. I want to leave. To run. I'm sick of crying everyday. I sick of being nice to people and them not being nice back. I'm sick of screaming babies and drama and gossip and rules. This is normal, right? To feel this way? Will it go away? What if I run? What if I mess this all up? I can't hate myself anymore than I already do. I don't know what to do. This is just a bad day, right? I'll feel different tomorrow, right? I just want to breath. I want to cook dinner. I want to watch cartoons with my son. I want to take an hour long bubble bath. I want to laugh, a real laugh. And yes, fuck, I even want to drink. Make this go away. Please, God, make these feelings go away.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Fourteen:
I have always believed events in my life have happened for a reason. Whether positive or negative, our actions, decisions, and choices are all a learning experience, a lesson to grow from. I can look back on my past, on even the traumas and the loss and pain, and say, "well, if that hadn't happened to me, if I hadn't made that particular choice, I wouldn't be where I am today. This particular wonderful thing in my life may not have happened." For example, had my mother not died, I would not have started to drink heavily and gotten involved with a particular man. Had I not gotten involved with said man, I wouldn't have my beautiful son today. I can accept all of this on an intellectual, analytical level, yet it has been very difficult for me to truly accept it on an emotional, spiritual level. But only I can accept that I am an alcoholic and only i can accept the need for healing and recovery and peace. I see the golden pathway. I'm even standing on it. Now, I just need to begin to walk forward.
Later in the day:
I'm sad. I've been trying to organize a Christmas caroling group because I love to sing and I though it would help everyone alleviate sadness and loneliness during the holiday. Three girls had agreed to join and I had set up a practice this evening for 6pm. I reminded them all before hand and they all seemed very excited and enthusiastic. I rounded up all the lyrics and sat in the Ed room waiting for them to join me. I sat, I waited, I waited more. After half an hour I came to my room to write this. I'm disappointed and sad. I realize people get busy or distracted or forgetful, but it just would have been nice of them to let me know beforehand that they weren't coming, or that perhaps weren't interested anymore. I don't want to take this personally. I don't want to be hurt over something this trivial. I hate being so darn sensitive. I hate having to constantly wonder if people really like me or if they are just pretending. I hate having to have acceptance from other people to feel worthy. I have so much to work on myself, besides my sobriety, that it's overwhelming. I wish I could be stronger, have more of a backbone, not care what others think of me. I wish alot of things. I suppose it's up to me, alone, to make it happen. No, not alone. With God and my angels and my mother. I'm not alone. Yet why does it still feel that way? I just feel like avoiding everyone right now.
I have always believed events in my life have happened for a reason. Whether positive or negative, our actions, decisions, and choices are all a learning experience, a lesson to grow from. I can look back on my past, on even the traumas and the loss and pain, and say, "well, if that hadn't happened to me, if I hadn't made that particular choice, I wouldn't be where I am today. This particular wonderful thing in my life may not have happened." For example, had my mother not died, I would not have started to drink heavily and gotten involved with a particular man. Had I not gotten involved with said man, I wouldn't have my beautiful son today. I can accept all of this on an intellectual, analytical level, yet it has been very difficult for me to truly accept it on an emotional, spiritual level. But only I can accept that I am an alcoholic and only i can accept the need for healing and recovery and peace. I see the golden pathway. I'm even standing on it. Now, I just need to begin to walk forward.
Later in the day:
I'm sad. I've been trying to organize a Christmas caroling group because I love to sing and I though it would help everyone alleviate sadness and loneliness during the holiday. Three girls had agreed to join and I had set up a practice this evening for 6pm. I reminded them all before hand and they all seemed very excited and enthusiastic. I rounded up all the lyrics and sat in the Ed room waiting for them to join me. I sat, I waited, I waited more. After half an hour I came to my room to write this. I'm disappointed and sad. I realize people get busy or distracted or forgetful, but it just would have been nice of them to let me know beforehand that they weren't coming, or that perhaps weren't interested anymore. I don't want to take this personally. I don't want to be hurt over something this trivial. I hate being so darn sensitive. I hate having to constantly wonder if people really like me or if they are just pretending. I hate having to have acceptance from other people to feel worthy. I have so much to work on myself, besides my sobriety, that it's overwhelming. I wish I could be stronger, have more of a backbone, not care what others think of me. I wish alot of things. I suppose it's up to me, alone, to make it happen. No, not alone. With God and my angels and my mother. I'm not alone. Yet why does it still feel that way? I just feel like avoiding everyone right now.
Rehab Journal
Day Thirteen:
I had a bit of a fright this evening when my godmother brought me my mail. It was a letter from child support services with a picture of my son's father in it, asking me to confirm identity so that may may press charges for child support. I haven't seen or heard from this man in ten years. When I became pregnant he wanted nothing to do with me. So, I moved here to Eugene to be with family. I have been completely content with my decision to this this on my own. I chose to be a single mother and I have never regretted that decision. But when I applied for welfare cash benefits a few months ago, they wouldn't give them to me unless I divulged all the information I have on my son's father. I needed the money to survive, so I felt I had no choice. Now they've found him and I'm scared. I don't know how he is going to react to this. I have all of these fears and "what ifs" going on in my head. What if he wants to see my son? What if he finds out I'm in treatment and wants to fight for custody? I know I'm future-tripping, but it's difficult not to. I just need to breath and pray. Also, I was so happy I was here when I got this news. I know it would have caused a relapse on the outside. So, I'm very thankful for that.
I had a bit of a fright this evening when my godmother brought me my mail. It was a letter from child support services with a picture of my son's father in it, asking me to confirm identity so that may may press charges for child support. I haven't seen or heard from this man in ten years. When I became pregnant he wanted nothing to do with me. So, I moved here to Eugene to be with family. I have been completely content with my decision to this this on my own. I chose to be a single mother and I have never regretted that decision. But when I applied for welfare cash benefits a few months ago, they wouldn't give them to me unless I divulged all the information I have on my son's father. I needed the money to survive, so I felt I had no choice. Now they've found him and I'm scared. I don't know how he is going to react to this. I have all of these fears and "what ifs" going on in my head. What if he wants to see my son? What if he finds out I'm in treatment and wants to fight for custody? I know I'm future-tripping, but it's difficult not to. I just need to breath and pray. Also, I was so happy I was here when I got this news. I know it would have caused a relapse on the outside. So, I'm very thankful for that.
Rehab Journal
Day Twelve:
I had a fairly mellow day. The only upset was this afternoon at lunch dishes chore. One of my co-workers was in a very negative, explosive, demanding mood, and basically, I felt attacked for no reason at all. Instead of just ignoring her like I should have, I snapped back at her. Now she's been ignoring me all day. I hope there's not tension between us from now on. I want to apologize but I'm afraid she will just respond rudely back. I've never been good with confrontation, so I'm not confident on how to handle this situation, or just to let it go.
I had a fairly mellow day. The only upset was this afternoon at lunch dishes chore. One of my co-workers was in a very negative, explosive, demanding mood, and basically, I felt attacked for no reason at all. Instead of just ignoring her like I should have, I snapped back at her. Now she's been ignoring me all day. I hope there's not tension between us from now on. I want to apologize but I'm afraid she will just respond rudely back. I've never been good with confrontation, so I'm not confident on how to handle this situation, or just to let it go.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Eleven:
Another emotional morning. I seem to be the only resident oblivious to the drama that happened in the middle of the night. I woke and sleepily stumbled out for my morning cigarette. I was alone at first, refreshed and enjoying the sun trying to pop out behind the clouds, when two ladies plopped down on the benches, and the drama ensued. "Mel left in the middle of the night last night. I can't believe she did that..." blah, blah, insult, insult. It was such a shock for me I began crying, especially the more that they insulted and judged her. I wanted to scream at them, but all I could do was cry. They finally took notice of me, which I was hoping they wouldn't. Suddenly, they were all concern and compassion. They asked me to process, to share with them, and normally I would have, as they are two women I am fairly close to. But this time, I just couldn't. I got up and told them I needed some time to myself. I walked back inside, looked around, and behind my tears I became so angry. There was no stinking place for me to be alone and cry, no privacy at all. I ran into a shower room and locked the door, sobbed for five seconds until someone knocked on the door. Alone time over! I snuck into my bathroom in my shared room and cried as quietly as I could so I wouldn't wake up my roommates. So, why all the crying, you ask? I felt such a loss, as if Mel had died or abandoned me. I don't know why I felt that way, but the sorrow was so over-powering. But angry as well, pissed off that she could just give up like that, let her demons take over, just run away when people, when I needed her support. I skulked around depressed for the next few hours, took a nap, did the dishes, got dolled up for my visit with my boyfriend, and I began to feel much better, more accepting of her decision. Her decision, her life, not my responsibility. My recovery, my life, my responsibility. By 6 pm, I was laughing, uplifted, and relieved. Whew!
Another emotional morning. I seem to be the only resident oblivious to the drama that happened in the middle of the night. I woke and sleepily stumbled out for my morning cigarette. I was alone at first, refreshed and enjoying the sun trying to pop out behind the clouds, when two ladies plopped down on the benches, and the drama ensued. "Mel left in the middle of the night last night. I can't believe she did that..." blah, blah, insult, insult. It was such a shock for me I began crying, especially the more that they insulted and judged her. I wanted to scream at them, but all I could do was cry. They finally took notice of me, which I was hoping they wouldn't. Suddenly, they were all concern and compassion. They asked me to process, to share with them, and normally I would have, as they are two women I am fairly close to. But this time, I just couldn't. I got up and told them I needed some time to myself. I walked back inside, looked around, and behind my tears I became so angry. There was no stinking place for me to be alone and cry, no privacy at all. I ran into a shower room and locked the door, sobbed for five seconds until someone knocked on the door. Alone time over! I snuck into my bathroom in my shared room and cried as quietly as I could so I wouldn't wake up my roommates. So, why all the crying, you ask? I felt such a loss, as if Mel had died or abandoned me. I don't know why I felt that way, but the sorrow was so over-powering. But angry as well, pissed off that she could just give up like that, let her demons take over, just run away when people, when I needed her support. I skulked around depressed for the next few hours, took a nap, did the dishes, got dolled up for my visit with my boyfriend, and I began to feel much better, more accepting of her decision. Her decision, her life, not my responsibility. My recovery, my life, my responsibility. By 6 pm, I was laughing, uplifted, and relieved. Whew!
Rehab Journal
Day Ten:
A fairly uneventful day besides sleeping, eating, chores, and TV (oh, and a fun card game in morning group). Yet I did feel strong in one point of the day. There were a few of us out in the smoking area, and one woman began talking about a drug-induced war story, getting more and more heated and detailed as the story went on. I was becoming very uncomfortable and anxious. Normally, I would have just sat there and squirmed and bit my tongue, or I just would have got up and silently left. But this time I used my voice. All I said was, "Please stop." She looked at me queerly, then realized here mistake and graciously apologized. I thanked her, the conversation changed, and my anxiety level decreased rapidly. It's a start at assertive thinking and action. Yeh for me!
A fairly uneventful day besides sleeping, eating, chores, and TV (oh, and a fun card game in morning group). Yet I did feel strong in one point of the day. There were a few of us out in the smoking area, and one woman began talking about a drug-induced war story, getting more and more heated and detailed as the story went on. I was becoming very uncomfortable and anxious. Normally, I would have just sat there and squirmed and bit my tongue, or I just would have got up and silently left. But this time I used my voice. All I said was, "Please stop." She looked at me queerly, then realized here mistake and graciously apologized. I thanked her, the conversation changed, and my anxiety level decreased rapidly. It's a start at assertive thinking and action. Yeh for me!
Rehab Journal
Day Nine:
Whew! What an emotional day. I'm still a bit dizzy from the roller coaster ride, but my feet are beginning to steady. I do feel as if I had a mini-breakthrough this morning in group, though. In all of my three months in out-patient treatment, I never cried once in the presence of my group. So, for me to be able to tear up in the way I did in front of women I've known for only a week, well, it was quite a shocker for me. Of course, both Mel's and Sara's disclosures and raw honesty helped me immensely. After my own outpouring, I felt such a sense of relief, even though i couldn't quite share (or wasn't ready to share) exactly what I was internalizing. I know I will be able to in time. A short nap and meditation group really helped balance me out and allowed me to breath from a deeper place. I still felt on the verge of tears for the remainder of the day (quite possibly PMS-instigated). And then I saw my boyfriend. His first visit. I cried again, but out of love. Thank you so much for allowing him to be a supportive part of my recovery while i am here. It means so very much. He has been my beacon though all of this. Thank you, again. And I promise, one day soon, I will be able to cry and scream and rant and rave, and oh my goodness, even curse if that is what I need in order to heal.
Whew! What an emotional day. I'm still a bit dizzy from the roller coaster ride, but my feet are beginning to steady. I do feel as if I had a mini-breakthrough this morning in group, though. In all of my three months in out-patient treatment, I never cried once in the presence of my group. So, for me to be able to tear up in the way I did in front of women I've known for only a week, well, it was quite a shocker for me. Of course, both Mel's and Sara's disclosures and raw honesty helped me immensely. After my own outpouring, I felt such a sense of relief, even though i couldn't quite share (or wasn't ready to share) exactly what I was internalizing. I know I will be able to in time. A short nap and meditation group really helped balance me out and allowed me to breath from a deeper place. I still felt on the verge of tears for the remainder of the day (quite possibly PMS-instigated). And then I saw my boyfriend. His first visit. I cried again, but out of love. Thank you so much for allowing him to be a supportive part of my recovery while i am here. It means so very much. He has been my beacon though all of this. Thank you, again. And I promise, one day soon, I will be able to cry and scream and rant and rave, and oh my goodness, even curse if that is what I need in order to heal.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Eight:
I went to my first outside AA meeting today since I've been here. It felt fabulous. I've gone to this specific meeting on and off for over a year, so there were many familiar faces and even a few people who knew me casually and were delighted to see me back. I had always gone to the meetings alone, sat by myself, was quiet and shy, but polite. I rarely ever spoke or shared. I had always just attributed it to my shyness or my anxiety, but now I realize I was purposely isolating myself from them, not allowing myself to get to close, or to truly open up to them. I see now that I wasn't fully ready to commit myself to the program and my recovery. I was scared of failure, of disappointing them if I relapsed. But today was different. Attending the meeting with my peers, I felt so relaxed and confident, as if that was exactly where I was supposed to be. I even spoke, shared my gratitude for being back, and really beginning the process like I was meant to. I felt so invigorated after I left. It even helped me relax and be more of my outgoing, goofy self here. maybe this is just my honeymoon stage of recovery, but it sure feels good. And geeze, am I grateful.
I went to my first outside AA meeting today since I've been here. It felt fabulous. I've gone to this specific meeting on and off for over a year, so there were many familiar faces and even a few people who knew me casually and were delighted to see me back. I had always gone to the meetings alone, sat by myself, was quiet and shy, but polite. I rarely ever spoke or shared. I had always just attributed it to my shyness or my anxiety, but now I realize I was purposely isolating myself from them, not allowing myself to get to close, or to truly open up to them. I see now that I wasn't fully ready to commit myself to the program and my recovery. I was scared of failure, of disappointing them if I relapsed. But today was different. Attending the meeting with my peers, I felt so relaxed and confident, as if that was exactly where I was supposed to be. I even spoke, shared my gratitude for being back, and really beginning the process like I was meant to. I felt so invigorated after I left. It even helped me relax and be more of my outgoing, goofy self here. maybe this is just my honeymoon stage of recovery, but it sure feels good. And geeze, am I grateful.
Rehab Journal
Day Seven:
Yeh! I have my recovery plan. Thank you! I will try not to rush into my assignments. I will mull them over, put thought into them. I will try not to over-analyze (which can be a hindrance for me) and truly think from the heart. I adore the idea of writing my first assignment in the form of a poem. Luckily, I write with more of a narrative voice than an abstract one, so the group should hopefully be able to comprehend it. But, first and foremost, I am writing it for myself, not an audience, so the way I will be perceived by others should not be of importance to me. I'm working on that. Also, I feel a little uncomfortable about my education. I feel awkward telling people that I graduated from college. I feel people with less education or opportunity may think I am gloating, or trying to announce my intellectual superiority over them. I am an addict, like everyone else here; as simple as that. Yet, I don't want to dumb myself down either. Just be yourself, Souza!At least as much as I know about myself right now...my compassion, my integrity, and my heart. The rest of my knowing will come with time.
Yeh! I have my recovery plan. Thank you! I will try not to rush into my assignments. I will mull them over, put thought into them. I will try not to over-analyze (which can be a hindrance for me) and truly think from the heart. I adore the idea of writing my first assignment in the form of a poem. Luckily, I write with more of a narrative voice than an abstract one, so the group should hopefully be able to comprehend it. But, first and foremost, I am writing it for myself, not an audience, so the way I will be perceived by others should not be of importance to me. I'm working on that. Also, I feel a little uncomfortable about my education. I feel awkward telling people that I graduated from college. I feel people with less education or opportunity may think I am gloating, or trying to announce my intellectual superiority over them. I am an addict, like everyone else here; as simple as that. Yet, I don't want to dumb myself down either. Just be yourself, Souza!At least as much as I know about myself right now...my compassion, my integrity, and my heart. The rest of my knowing will come with time.
Rehab Journal
Day Six:
Strangely, I had anxiety today from the moment I woke until late this evening. Even my medication didn't seem to relax me. I can't seem to think of anything that may have triggered it, except for the fact that this is my first non-blackout day and I can make phone calls to loved ones. yet, this is a good, exciting thing, so I am befuddled why this might cause contiued panic. I had a wonderful, if too quick, phone conversation with my boyfriend. Just to hear his soothing voice relaxed me. And yes, he is drug-free (never even tried any). He drinks only occasionally and never to any extreme and never around me. He knows how uncomfortable and inappropriate that would be. I pray I can see him for a visit this Wednesday evening. Does he need to call you (speaking to my in-care counsilor)for a phone interview, or do you call him? Please let me know so I can start this process. I hope to get my recovery plan soon. I am an eternal student and I am actually jeleous of all the homework the others get to fuss over. I'm sleepy. Going to bed early and get a good night's sleep. Au Revoir!
Strangely, I had anxiety today from the moment I woke until late this evening. Even my medication didn't seem to relax me. I can't seem to think of anything that may have triggered it, except for the fact that this is my first non-blackout day and I can make phone calls to loved ones. yet, this is a good, exciting thing, so I am befuddled why this might cause contiued panic. I had a wonderful, if too quick, phone conversation with my boyfriend. Just to hear his soothing voice relaxed me. And yes, he is drug-free (never even tried any). He drinks only occasionally and never to any extreme and never around me. He knows how uncomfortable and inappropriate that would be. I pray I can see him for a visit this Wednesday evening. Does he need to call you (speaking to my in-care counsilor)for a phone interview, or do you call him? Please let me know so I can start this process. I hope to get my recovery plan soon. I am an eternal student and I am actually jeleous of all the homework the others get to fuss over. I'm sleepy. Going to bed early and get a good night's sleep. Au Revoir!
Rehab Journal
Day Five:
I slept quite a bit today. I think mainly because I wanted the day to go faster, so my blackout days (no outside contact days) would be over. Tomorrow I get to hear my love's voice. In eight months, I have never not heard his voice for five straight days. I almost want to cry at the thought of it all. He is such a warming comfort to me, my best friend, my greatest supporter. I have put him through so much in the short time we have been together. The shame and remorse and guilt I feel for my addictive behaviors are beyond comparison to anything I have ever done to anyone. I have never fully understood how he could forgive me. He says it is because I have never lied to him, that I communicate everything concerning what I have done and how I have hurt him. He says it's because he loves me and believes in me, and my desire to change and heal. He is the strongest man I know, the most compassionate and sensitive, and also, the most forgiving. I could not imagine a life without him in it ( in any form we are meant to be). Yes, I'm a silly romantic. But I have never loved like this, not been loved in return like this. And it is such a gift, a miracle for me. Though how can I ever forgive myself? How long will it take for me to release the guilt and sorrow for how I have hurt him? Many times I have felt that I do not deserve him. I have pleaded with him to leave me. Yet, he stays. I want to be the woman who deserves him, the woman I deserve to be, myself.
I slept quite a bit today. I think mainly because I wanted the day to go faster, so my blackout days (no outside contact days) would be over. Tomorrow I get to hear my love's voice. In eight months, I have never not heard his voice for five straight days. I almost want to cry at the thought of it all. He is such a warming comfort to me, my best friend, my greatest supporter. I have put him through so much in the short time we have been together. The shame and remorse and guilt I feel for my addictive behaviors are beyond comparison to anything I have ever done to anyone. I have never fully understood how he could forgive me. He says it is because I have never lied to him, that I communicate everything concerning what I have done and how I have hurt him. He says it's because he loves me and believes in me, and my desire to change and heal. He is the strongest man I know, the most compassionate and sensitive, and also, the most forgiving. I could not imagine a life without him in it ( in any form we are meant to be). Yes, I'm a silly romantic. But I have never loved like this, not been loved in return like this. And it is such a gift, a miracle for me. Though how can I ever forgive myself? How long will it take for me to release the guilt and sorrow for how I have hurt him? Many times I have felt that I do not deserve him. I have pleaded with him to leave me. Yet, he stays. I want to be the woman who deserves him, the woman I deserve to be, myself.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Four:
There is so much gossip here. Rude quips, hard judgements, loose tongues saying anything and everything, not seeming to care who they hurt. I almost feel as if I am in high school again. I am doing myself to distance myself from it, yet without excluding myself altogether. I'm beginning to learn boundaries, whom to let in, whom to keep at a safe distance while still being polite. I'm very aware of my need to be liked, to be accepted, but I'm also learning through this process (much earlier than I expected) that not everyone has to be my best friend. That I have the choice to converse and socialize with those that will benefit both my recovery and my well-being. I have heard so many sad, heart-breaking, even horrific stories here of these womens'lives. I wish I could write all of their memories. Tomorrow I will see my son and I am chipper as a chipmunk with a mouth full of acorns (geeze, I'm a dork.)
P.s. If I have to hear the word "faggot" one more time, I'm going to scream. Where is the compassion in this world? I am seeing only ignorance.
There is so much gossip here. Rude quips, hard judgements, loose tongues saying anything and everything, not seeming to care who they hurt. I almost feel as if I am in high school again. I am doing myself to distance myself from it, yet without excluding myself altogether. I'm beginning to learn boundaries, whom to let in, whom to keep at a safe distance while still being polite. I'm very aware of my need to be liked, to be accepted, but I'm also learning through this process (much earlier than I expected) that not everyone has to be my best friend. That I have the choice to converse and socialize with those that will benefit both my recovery and my well-being. I have heard so many sad, heart-breaking, even horrific stories here of these womens'lives. I wish I could write all of their memories. Tomorrow I will see my son and I am chipper as a chipmunk with a mouth full of acorns (geeze, I'm a dork.)
P.s. If I have to hear the word "faggot" one more time, I'm going to scream. Where is the compassion in this world? I am seeing only ignorance.
Rehab Journal
Day Three:
I really felt like today was a good day. It feels delightful to have one of those again, to not just waste the day away in glum and sorrow and self-pity. I didn't isolate myself today, yet nor was I a plucky, social butterfly. It felt balanced and serene. I managed to get some exercise and meditation in today, which I feel is extremely beneficial to my recovery and overall physical and mental health. I only cried once, for a mere two minutes after group, when I learned that one has to be here 30 days before a day pass can be given out. I panicked, felt despair at the thought of not being able to spend Christmas day with my son. That thought saddens me very much, but sacrifices must be made. And if I have to give up this one holiday in order to share every following one with him, then that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. I had a very nice visit with my son, Connor, today. I gave him the grand tour, showed him off to the other women, stuffed him with juice and pastries, played sudoku, and had some light-hearted chit-a-chat. I hadn't realized how much I missed him until he was here. I am so proud of his strength and sensitivity. Even with all my faults and mistakes, I managed to raise a very bright and polite young man. How lucky I am. I haven't had one craving today, which is rare, but lovely. I miss my boyfriend immensely. Patience has never been my strong suit.I suppose this is my opportunity to learn.
I really felt like today was a good day. It feels delightful to have one of those again, to not just waste the day away in glum and sorrow and self-pity. I didn't isolate myself today, yet nor was I a plucky, social butterfly. It felt balanced and serene. I managed to get some exercise and meditation in today, which I feel is extremely beneficial to my recovery and overall physical and mental health. I only cried once, for a mere two minutes after group, when I learned that one has to be here 30 days before a day pass can be given out. I panicked, felt despair at the thought of not being able to spend Christmas day with my son. That thought saddens me very much, but sacrifices must be made. And if I have to give up this one holiday in order to share every following one with him, then that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. I had a very nice visit with my son, Connor, today. I gave him the grand tour, showed him off to the other women, stuffed him with juice and pastries, played sudoku, and had some light-hearted chit-a-chat. I hadn't realized how much I missed him until he was here. I am so proud of his strength and sensitivity. Even with all my faults and mistakes, I managed to raise a very bright and polite young man. How lucky I am. I haven't had one craving today, which is rare, but lovely. I miss my boyfriend immensely. Patience has never been my strong suit.I suppose this is my opportunity to learn.
Rehab Journal
Day Two:
I'm getting worried. I can already notice myself isolating. I'm enjoying going to the classes, disciplining myself with routine, but as soon as there is any free time, I seem to want to escape to my room. This has been a relapse trigger I have noticed from the recent past, so that is why this is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I also seem to be getting quieter and more withdrawn. everyone is so friendly and open here (almost everyone). I want to be able to open up, share who I am, make friendships, find support systems. But the more outspoken others are, the meeker and fearful I feel. I have the tendency to pretend that all is fine and dandy, when in reality, underneath, I am anything but. I don't understand why this is so difficult for me, why I must show a false, happy face all the time. And then it eats at me and I need release. So I drink, thinking that this will allow me to show and express my true emotions. But really, in actuality, all it does is suppress them even further. I care so much what others think of me. I care so much if people like me or not. I have to be viewed in a good light or I'm a failure, unlovable, unworthy of friendships. I have been struggling with this since I was a child. Always needed the attention, but never reaching out myself. Always waiting for others to show interest first. That is why I liked drinking. I could approach anyone, think of myself as charming and confident. I would finally get to make the choice, myself, as to who is in my company. Instead of sitting around, impatiently, waiting to be noticed. I want to stop this viscous cycle. I realize it may just take some time. My shyness and insecurity may dissipate the longer I am here. I truly hope so. Yet, I want confidence, as well, not just hope. I want action, not stagnancy. I want healing, not isolation.
I'm getting worried. I can already notice myself isolating. I'm enjoying going to the classes, disciplining myself with routine, but as soon as there is any free time, I seem to want to escape to my room. This has been a relapse trigger I have noticed from the recent past, so that is why this is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I also seem to be getting quieter and more withdrawn. everyone is so friendly and open here (almost everyone). I want to be able to open up, share who I am, make friendships, find support systems. But the more outspoken others are, the meeker and fearful I feel. I have the tendency to pretend that all is fine and dandy, when in reality, underneath, I am anything but. I don't understand why this is so difficult for me, why I must show a false, happy face all the time. And then it eats at me and I need release. So I drink, thinking that this will allow me to show and express my true emotions. But really, in actuality, all it does is suppress them even further. I care so much what others think of me. I care so much if people like me or not. I have to be viewed in a good light or I'm a failure, unlovable, unworthy of friendships. I have been struggling with this since I was a child. Always needed the attention, but never reaching out myself. Always waiting for others to show interest first. That is why I liked drinking. I could approach anyone, think of myself as charming and confident. I would finally get to make the choice, myself, as to who is in my company. Instead of sitting around, impatiently, waiting to be noticed. I want to stop this viscous cycle. I realize it may just take some time. My shyness and insecurity may dissipate the longer I am here. I truly hope so. Yet, I want confidence, as well, not just hope. I want action, not stagnancy. I want healing, not isolation.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day One:
I am both elated and terrified to be here. Yet this is where I am meant to be at this time in my life. Number one, I want to live. That is my first priority. I am safe here. Then, I want to live without alcohol, without its constant grip over me. I refuse to let it have control any longer. I want to think of it as poison, as a toxic substance that can only deteriorate my body, my life, my very soul. I want to believe this. And a large part of me does. but there is still a beauty to it for me that is difficult to let go. The crystal glass, the full-bodied red wine, the elegance, the calmness that smooths over all the negativity in my life. Even if it's only momentary. But then I cannot stop. After the second glass, I HAVE to continue. It takes control. I am its puppet and this person I do not recognize squeezes its way out of me. She is stubborn; she is bossy. She thinks she is the smartest and most beautiful even though she is slurring her words and has lipstick smeared on her teeth. She can be cruel with her words; she betrays those she loves; she lies and disappears into the night, allowing all who love her to worry and fear for her safety. She doesn't think of them. She is purely self-centered. And I loathe her. She is not who I truly am. I want to be rid of her once and for all, set her on the curb for the garbage truck to pick up, smash and compact her, melt her down, recycle her into the woman and mother she was meant to be.
I am both elated and terrified to be here. Yet this is where I am meant to be at this time in my life. Number one, I want to live. That is my first priority. I am safe here. Then, I want to live without alcohol, without its constant grip over me. I refuse to let it have control any longer. I want to think of it as poison, as a toxic substance that can only deteriorate my body, my life, my very soul. I want to believe this. And a large part of me does. but there is still a beauty to it for me that is difficult to let go. The crystal glass, the full-bodied red wine, the elegance, the calmness that smooths over all the negativity in my life. Even if it's only momentary. But then I cannot stop. After the second glass, I HAVE to continue. It takes control. I am its puppet and this person I do not recognize squeezes its way out of me. She is stubborn; she is bossy. She thinks she is the smartest and most beautiful even though she is slurring her words and has lipstick smeared on her teeth. She can be cruel with her words; she betrays those she loves; she lies and disappears into the night, allowing all who love her to worry and fear for her safety. She doesn't think of them. She is purely self-centered. And I loathe her. She is not who I truly am. I want to be rid of her once and for all, set her on the curb for the garbage truck to pick up, smash and compact her, melt her down, recycle her into the woman and mother she was meant to be.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Writings in Rehab
Snow Day at Willamette Family
Snow fell. Lace-edged flakes large as quarters
and some of us, the women here, fell with arms
out-stretched, a blind, backwards dive,
a bent-kneed dance into five inch fluffs
of iridescent snow. Fell to make snow angels;
child's play in grown-up bodies, fragile
bodies, solid bodies, dark clear imprints
left as a reminder of our healing.
Some of us cried, hibernating in the small
caves of our rooms, hiding under heavy
blankets, curtains drawn to shut out
the light; the blinding light of piled
snow on bent, disabled branches, bushes
empty of their leaves, the hurried
piling on top of rooftops; Beauty we want
unseen; memories of our children spinning
like clay on pottery wheels, reminding us of loss.
We were given a free day; no process groups
in circled chaired rooms, four phone calls
to loved ones awaiting our return on the outside.
Beyond the four directional halls, beyond
the doors that lock only from the outside,
allowing us the choice to walk, sneak, run
if we so choose. But none of us did this day.
We remained enclaved within these walls
with forty women searching for our worth,
striving toward surrender in our lives, reminding us
that hope can settle in easy as a bloated
cake can settle as it cools. We are addicts
with our mouths open wide, heads tilted
toward the sky, slick tongues embracing wet
flakes, swallowing Mother Nature's sustenance
into our bellies, into our hearts, sloping
down to our slippers. We sat on wooden benches
under flapping, plastic tarps, smoked our cigarettes,
strained our ears toward the silence od snow
meeting with the ground. Such a kind greeting
of Heaven and Earth, ever reminding us to pray.
Snow fell. Lace-edged flakes large as quarters
and some of us, the women here, fell with arms
out-stretched, a blind, backwards dive,
a bent-kneed dance into five inch fluffs
of iridescent snow. Fell to make snow angels;
child's play in grown-up bodies, fragile
bodies, solid bodies, dark clear imprints
left as a reminder of our healing.
Some of us cried, hibernating in the small
caves of our rooms, hiding under heavy
blankets, curtains drawn to shut out
the light; the blinding light of piled
snow on bent, disabled branches, bushes
empty of their leaves, the hurried
piling on top of rooftops; Beauty we want
unseen; memories of our children spinning
like clay on pottery wheels, reminding us of loss.
We were given a free day; no process groups
in circled chaired rooms, four phone calls
to loved ones awaiting our return on the outside.
Beyond the four directional halls, beyond
the doors that lock only from the outside,
allowing us the choice to walk, sneak, run
if we so choose. But none of us did this day.
We remained enclaved within these walls
with forty women searching for our worth,
striving toward surrender in our lives, reminding us
that hope can settle in easy as a bloated
cake can settle as it cools. We are addicts
with our mouths open wide, heads tilted
toward the sky, slick tongues embracing wet
flakes, swallowing Mother Nature's sustenance
into our bellies, into our hearts, sloping
down to our slippers. We sat on wooden benches
under flapping, plastic tarps, smoked our cigarettes,
strained our ears toward the silence od snow
meeting with the ground. Such a kind greeting
of Heaven and Earth, ever reminding us to pray.
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