Six am, morning of day sixty-three:
Exactly one month to the date that I would have graduated inpatient rehab, I again, stuffed all the belongings I could into my coat pockets and snuck out, unaware, through the back, behind the tall hedges. I walked right to the nearest convenience store, bought a six pack of beer, and rented a motel room for the night. I didn't call Ray. I didn't want him to be responsible. I called my godmother, so she wouldn't worry. I drank all day, fooled around with strangers, danced at a bar, and passed out with my old outpatient girlfriend sloshed next to me in the queen sized bed.
It is today, two and a half moths later, and I am still struggling daily with my sobriety. Good days, good weeks, then a bad day will slap me in the face like a wet towel. I am hopeful. I never give up. I do not fail. Steps back, steps forward. Learn, persevere, love. That's all I can do. I want to drink tonight, more than anything. Ray is gone for good and it was not a pretty ending. I cheated on him 12 times in one year. No one could or should endure that. I hate this disease. My son does not live with me. I am scrunched in a little one-room college quad, all alone. And I can't sleep at night. But I write and I pray and I believe my future...I believe I have one.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Sixty-Two:
Kind of an in and out emotional day. One second, gloomy, the next, laughter. Strange fluctuations, but quite normal for me, especially since I'm quite sure I'm still going through PAW (Post Acute Withdrawal..can last up to six months). My son came and visited me tonight. It was wonderful. We were both in out-going, silly moods. And then it was time for him to leave. I haven't seen him that affectionate in a long time. Usually, he loathes being here, but tonight, he actually refused to leave. For 10 minutes at the door, he wouldn't stop hugging me and cuddling up and kissing me on the cheek. He was holding on for dear life. And it took every ounce of my strength not to walk out of those doors with him, as he cried walking to the car. It was beautiful and heart-breaking. But made me realize again my motivation for being here, for remaining sober. But, god, I'm so scared. So scared I will relapse again. And I'm so tired of being scared. When will I ever feel confident in my recovery?
Kind of an in and out emotional day. One second, gloomy, the next, laughter. Strange fluctuations, but quite normal for me, especially since I'm quite sure I'm still going through PAW (Post Acute Withdrawal..can last up to six months). My son came and visited me tonight. It was wonderful. We were both in out-going, silly moods. And then it was time for him to leave. I haven't seen him that affectionate in a long time. Usually, he loathes being here, but tonight, he actually refused to leave. For 10 minutes at the door, he wouldn't stop hugging me and cuddling up and kissing me on the cheek. He was holding on for dear life. And it took every ounce of my strength not to walk out of those doors with him, as he cried walking to the car. It was beautiful and heart-breaking. But made me realize again my motivation for being here, for remaining sober. But, god, I'm so scared. So scared I will relapse again. And I'm so tired of being scared. When will I ever feel confident in my recovery?
Rehab Journal
Day Sixty-One:
I tried not to isolate too much today, but I am allowing myself the time needed to grieve over Ray. I don't regret my decision, but I still can't envision a life without him in it. It will take time, I know. And the pain is immense, but bearable. Minute by minute, that's all I can do right now. My anxiety is increasing and I'm not too pleased with that, but given the circumstances, it's understandable. Deep breathing helps, as well as extra rest time, and also focusing my attention on art projects, or the poems that I'm working on. I will get to see my son tomorrow evening and I know that will help lift my spirits and alleviate some of my gloom. Until then, I will use my coping skills to get through this difficult period in my life. And I'm doing it sober. And I am truly proud of myself.
I tried not to isolate too much today, but I am allowing myself the time needed to grieve over Ray. I don't regret my decision, but I still can't envision a life without him in it. It will take time, I know. And the pain is immense, but bearable. Minute by minute, that's all I can do right now. My anxiety is increasing and I'm not too pleased with that, but given the circumstances, it's understandable. Deep breathing helps, as well as extra rest time, and also focusing my attention on art projects, or the poems that I'm working on. I will get to see my son tomorrow evening and I know that will help lift my spirits and alleviate some of my gloom. Until then, I will use my coping skills to get through this difficult period in my life. And I'm doing it sober. And I am truly proud of myself.
Rehab Journal
Day Sixty:
One of the saddest days of my life. When Ray came for his visit today, I had my letter ready to give him. I wish that I could have verbally explained all this to him, but I knew my emotions would jumble up my thoughts. So, I thought a letter would be more clarifying, and then he would be able to respond. He was silent and stoic for about 15 minutes after reading it. His silence always makes me nervous, because normally, he talks alot. When he spoke, at first, it was shock, then anger, then frustration, then he broke down his walls and cried. I cried right along with him. we both knew it was the right decision, but we didn't realize how painful it was going to be. We ended "us" with love and I'm so thankful for that. I'm going to miss him everyday, but I know I did the right thing, for me, my son, and for him. It allowed me to realize how dedicated now I am to my recovery. I had to give up the one man who has ever truly loved me, all of me, for the sake of my continued sobriety. I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am so very scared.
One of the saddest days of my life. When Ray came for his visit today, I had my letter ready to give him. I wish that I could have verbally explained all this to him, but I knew my emotions would jumble up my thoughts. So, I thought a letter would be more clarifying, and then he would be able to respond. He was silent and stoic for about 15 minutes after reading it. His silence always makes me nervous, because normally, he talks alot. When he spoke, at first, it was shock, then anger, then frustration, then he broke down his walls and cried. I cried right along with him. we both knew it was the right decision, but we didn't realize how painful it was going to be. We ended "us" with love and I'm so thankful for that. I'm going to miss him everyday, but I know I did the right thing, for me, my son, and for him. It allowed me to realize how dedicated now I am to my recovery. I had to give up the one man who has ever truly loved me, all of me, for the sake of my continued sobriety. I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am so very scared.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Nine:
My new roommate almost left tonight. Again, my room is cursed. I said all I could say to her. With not much of any response on her part, I kept my distance and prayed for her. That's all I could do. Luckily, a few hours later, she was unpacked and laughing with our other new roommate. I was so relieved and grateful. She is so brave to be starting this journey and recovery at such a young age (eighteen). It just depends on her willingness. Again, I can only send her my hopes and prayers and re-focus onto my own self. Oddly, but in a fabulous way, now, when women want to leave or actually do leave, it motivates me triple-fold to want to stay. I don't know why that is yet, but I'm very thankful for the change in my thinking process.
My new roommate almost left tonight. Again, my room is cursed. I said all I could say to her. With not much of any response on her part, I kept my distance and prayed for her. That's all I could do. Luckily, a few hours later, she was unpacked and laughing with our other new roommate. I was so relieved and grateful. She is so brave to be starting this journey and recovery at such a young age (eighteen). It just depends on her willingness. Again, I can only send her my hopes and prayers and re-focus onto my own self. Oddly, but in a fabulous way, now, when women want to leave or actually do leave, it motivates me triple-fold to want to stay. I don't know why that is yet, but I'm very thankful for the change in my thinking process.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Eight:
I've been in a kind of blah daze today. I'm not sure if it's hormonal or the effects of my sensitivity to grief and loss class and the homework I had to share today. Perhaps, it's a blurry, mixed concoction of all three. My good, dear friend, Randi graduated today and is off for Tennessee. But I've been extra sleepy and isolating a bit and just not plain as perky as I normally am. But that's okay. I'm going to give myself permission to have days like this sometimes. I'm feeling these emotions, even though they aren't the greatest of feelings, but I'm feeling them. And that is what is important. feeling them without drinking. Feeling them without escaping or running away. Feelings them without piling on all the happy masks, pretending nothing is wrong. I feel, it hurts, I don't know exactly what it's from, and that's ok. I can survive this. I truly am much stronger than I previously thought. Call the papers, the news crews..Souza's having a breakthrough...it's a miracle.
I've been in a kind of blah daze today. I'm not sure if it's hormonal or the effects of my sensitivity to grief and loss class and the homework I had to share today. Perhaps, it's a blurry, mixed concoction of all three. My good, dear friend, Randi graduated today and is off for Tennessee. But I've been extra sleepy and isolating a bit and just not plain as perky as I normally am. But that's okay. I'm going to give myself permission to have days like this sometimes. I'm feeling these emotions, even though they aren't the greatest of feelings, but I'm feeling them. And that is what is important. feeling them without drinking. Feeling them without escaping or running away. Feelings them without piling on all the happy masks, pretending nothing is wrong. I feel, it hurts, I don't know exactly what it's from, and that's ok. I can survive this. I truly am much stronger than I previously thought. Call the papers, the news crews..Souza's having a breakthrough...it's a miracle.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Seven:
Great day. Busy day. Therapy in the morning, then a noon AA meeting, then right out to recreation, then a quick nap, then dinner, and finally a visit. Whew! I'm glad I finished up all my homework yesterday. I had to write up another one of our girls this evening. It's getting easier. I'm not quite as scared of their reactions now. I'm just doing my job and they can respect that or not. I've taken accountability for my own actions and so should they. I'm not receiving special treatment or singling anyone out. I love my girls. And I hope they remember that. Day by day, my skin is thickening a little more and my confidence is growing. I've never wanted to be a follower for the rest of my life. And now, I'm realizing I just might have the ability to be a fair and just leader. Wow, the things we learn here in this crazy place.
Great day. Busy day. Therapy in the morning, then a noon AA meeting, then right out to recreation, then a quick nap, then dinner, and finally a visit. Whew! I'm glad I finished up all my homework yesterday. I had to write up another one of our girls this evening. It's getting easier. I'm not quite as scared of their reactions now. I'm just doing my job and they can respect that or not. I've taken accountability for my own actions and so should they. I'm not receiving special treatment or singling anyone out. I love my girls. And I hope they remember that. Day by day, my skin is thickening a little more and my confidence is growing. I've never wanted to be a follower for the rest of my life. And now, I'm realizing I just might have the ability to be a fair and just leader. Wow, the things we learn here in this crazy place.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Six:
it's been a busy day, but an emotional one. I stop and think of Ray and what we talked about, and I start to cry. But day by day, I'll take it. I'm not going to make any absolute, rash decisions anytime soon. Hopefully, I'll get some better clarification on my feelings when I see my therapist tomorrow. I want my sobriety above all else and if that means having to let go of someone/thing I love very dearly, then it's what must be done. Because without my sobriety, I have no life and I definitely have no future. It's snowing outside again and that always lifts my spirits. Sometimes, I really wish my mother could talk back to me. Maybe she is. Maybe through the snow, she is.
it's been a busy day, but an emotional one. I stop and think of Ray and what we talked about, and I start to cry. But day by day, I'll take it. I'm not going to make any absolute, rash decisions anytime soon. Hopefully, I'll get some better clarification on my feelings when I see my therapist tomorrow. I want my sobriety above all else and if that means having to let go of someone/thing I love very dearly, then it's what must be done. Because without my sobriety, I have no life and I definitely have no future. It's snowing outside again and that always lifts my spirits. Sometimes, I really wish my mother could talk back to me. Maybe she is. Maybe through the snow, she is.
rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Five:
Well, my wandering solitude is gone. I got a new roommate today. She is very young, though, so far, seems very sweet. I'll be doing my first House Rep duties this evening. I'm actually feeling alot more confident about this responsibility. I just really don't want to make enemies my last month here, but I don't want people to walk all over me either. I'll have to find a nice balance. And, I promise, I will ask for help when I need it. my godmother made a funny joke on the phone this evening. She said, "Oh, Souza, first House Rep, next the Senate." Dumb, but funny at the moment. It made me snicker. But I can see she's really proud of me. And it feels wonderful to be gaining her trust back again. Slowly, but surely. That's how I need to look at everything in my life right now. And that's a much needed lesson to help curb my impulsiveness.
Well, my wandering solitude is gone. I got a new roommate today. She is very young, though, so far, seems very sweet. I'll be doing my first House Rep duties this evening. I'm actually feeling alot more confident about this responsibility. I just really don't want to make enemies my last month here, but I don't want people to walk all over me either. I'll have to find a nice balance. And, I promise, I will ask for help when I need it. my godmother made a funny joke on the phone this evening. She said, "Oh, Souza, first House Rep, next the Senate." Dumb, but funny at the moment. It made me snicker. But I can see she's really proud of me. And it feels wonderful to be gaining her trust back again. Slowly, but surely. That's how I need to look at everything in my life right now. And that's a much needed lesson to help curb my impulsiveness.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Four:
It snowed! I've been so ecstatic all day, like a little child. The beauty of snow is the most beautiful, serene thing to me. When it snows, I feel my higher power talking directly to me through each falling flake. We played outside, had snowball fights, built snow people, made snow angels. It was so delightful, though I wished so much for my son to be here with me, for us to share this rarity together. I miss him so immensely. I wish he would visit more often, but I have to respect his feelings and boundaries. But it's still so hard. But as they say...Nothing worth having is easy...I'm really enjoying all this drawing and artwork I'm doing. Compared to my artistically-blessed family, I always felt I was very mediocre at it. But I'm starting to realize I have much more skill than I thought I had.
It snowed! I've been so ecstatic all day, like a little child. The beauty of snow is the most beautiful, serene thing to me. When it snows, I feel my higher power talking directly to me through each falling flake. We played outside, had snowball fights, built snow people, made snow angels. It was so delightful, though I wished so much for my son to be here with me, for us to share this rarity together. I miss him so immensely. I wish he would visit more often, but I have to respect his feelings and boundaries. But it's still so hard. But as they say...Nothing worth having is easy...I'm really enjoying all this drawing and artwork I'm doing. Compared to my artistically-blessed family, I always felt I was very mediocre at it. But I'm starting to realize I have much more skill than I thought I had.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-Three:
Nice, lazy day. I did some art projects for myself to personalize my room. I'm enjoying it much better now...this room to myself. I finally have a quiet place to myself to think, write, nap, even cry. The freedom of this feels wonderful. I know it won't last long, so I'm enjoying it while it's here. I had a wonderful visit with Ray today. He brought me a bouquet of roses and he had shaved just for me and he looked so handsome. We had a nice, light conversation for the first half, then I asked if we could discuss some more substantial things for a bit. If the conversation turned too heavy or intense or brought up guilt-ridden thoughts about my past behaviors, I asked he we could shift the conversation. He compromised really well and was so understanding of my needs and boundaries. He even said he was going to be looking into seeing a therapist for himself. I have so much hope for us, but I'm still realistic. I'm not going to remain in this relationship if it becomes unhealthy for me or my recovery. I adore him, and I know, no matter what, we will always remain very close. But it's me and my son first. And I refuse to stay just because I'm frightened to be alone. It's time to face my fears, if need be.
Nice, lazy day. I did some art projects for myself to personalize my room. I'm enjoying it much better now...this room to myself. I finally have a quiet place to myself to think, write, nap, even cry. The freedom of this feels wonderful. I know it won't last long, so I'm enjoying it while it's here. I had a wonderful visit with Ray today. He brought me a bouquet of roses and he had shaved just for me and he looked so handsome. We had a nice, light conversation for the first half, then I asked if we could discuss some more substantial things for a bit. If the conversation turned too heavy or intense or brought up guilt-ridden thoughts about my past behaviors, I asked he we could shift the conversation. He compromised really well and was so understanding of my needs and boundaries. He even said he was going to be looking into seeing a therapist for himself. I have so much hope for us, but I'm still realistic. I'm not going to remain in this relationship if it becomes unhealthy for me or my recovery. I adore him, and I know, no matter what, we will always remain very close. But it's me and my son first. And I refuse to stay just because I'm frightened to be alone. It's time to face my fears, if need be.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-two:
Very nice, uneventful day. I was a little nervous sleeping in my room alone. But that has always made me nervous, so it's nothing new. Dee came to the in-house meeting tonight. It was so fabulous to see her. She's doing really well. Struggling and fighting and taking it day by day. But she's sober and coming through even stronger. I miss her. I really feel as if I've made a life-long friend. Though I will forgoe my wishful thinking because it gets me in trouble sometimes. I can be very prone to disappointment when I think that way. So, to alter the statement: Today, I ahve a very wonderful friend named Dee, and I'm very grateful for that.
Very nice, uneventful day. I was a little nervous sleeping in my room alone. But that has always made me nervous, so it's nothing new. Dee came to the in-house meeting tonight. It was so fabulous to see her. She's doing really well. Struggling and fighting and taking it day by day. But she's sober and coming through even stronger. I miss her. I really feel as if I've made a life-long friend. Though I will forgoe my wishful thinking because it gets me in trouble sometimes. I can be very prone to disappointment when I think that way. So, to alter the statement: Today, I ahve a very wonderful friend named Dee, and I'm very grateful for that.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty-One:
The first half of the day was great and busy. I went to an AA meeting and actually spoke. I was really proud of myself. I'm feeling so much more confident and comfortable in those rooms with my fellow alcoholics. Then I had grief and loss class and shared the story of my mother's death. It was strange. I've written about that numerous times, so I didn't think it would affect me so profoundly. I didn't even shed a tear writing it this time. But when I had to read it out loud, the tear started a-flowing. But it wasn't painful; it was releasing. I came in my room afterwards and had another good cry and talked to her and actually felt her arms wrapped around me. It was an amazing, serene experience. But then the Hub staff came in and asked if I had seen my newest roommate. I told them not since the morning, since we had different classes all day. They left, and then my eyes actually focused. I looked over at her bed and her poster board was empty of all its pictures. I opened her dresser drawers...all empty. I ran out and told the staff. She had left, ran like a thief like I had without anyone knowing. I came back into my room and cried again, this time, painful ones. She was pregnant, for god's sake. I knew she would use. I feared so much for her and I didn't even know her. I know my new mantra...I am not responsible for other people's words, feelings, or actions. But it still hurt. It seems everyone I get close to leaves and it brings up all my damn abandonment issues. Fuck, Dee, why did you leave? I needed you! I am alone in my room now, and in a weird way, I feel this room is cursed. 3 people, including myself have run away just in the last 2 weeks. I know I'm not going anywhere, but it's still so hard seeing people leave. I want my sobriety so bad, but I'm still scared I might fail. I hope, in time, soon, in fact, this fear will leave me. It is the only thing I don't mind leaving me.
The first half of the day was great and busy. I went to an AA meeting and actually spoke. I was really proud of myself. I'm feeling so much more confident and comfortable in those rooms with my fellow alcoholics. Then I had grief and loss class and shared the story of my mother's death. It was strange. I've written about that numerous times, so I didn't think it would affect me so profoundly. I didn't even shed a tear writing it this time. But when I had to read it out loud, the tear started a-flowing. But it wasn't painful; it was releasing. I came in my room afterwards and had another good cry and talked to her and actually felt her arms wrapped around me. It was an amazing, serene experience. But then the Hub staff came in and asked if I had seen my newest roommate. I told them not since the morning, since we had different classes all day. They left, and then my eyes actually focused. I looked over at her bed and her poster board was empty of all its pictures. I opened her dresser drawers...all empty. I ran out and told the staff. She had left, ran like a thief like I had without anyone knowing. I came back into my room and cried again, this time, painful ones. She was pregnant, for god's sake. I knew she would use. I feared so much for her and I didn't even know her. I know my new mantra...I am not responsible for other people's words, feelings, or actions. But it still hurt. It seems everyone I get close to leaves and it brings up all my damn abandonment issues. Fuck, Dee, why did you leave? I needed you! I am alone in my room now, and in a weird way, I feel this room is cursed. 3 people, including myself have run away just in the last 2 weeks. I know I'm not going anywhere, but it's still so hard seeing people leave. I want my sobriety so bad, but I'm still scared I might fail. I hope, in time, soon, in fact, this fear will leave me. It is the only thing I don't mind leaving me.
Rehab Journal
Day Fifty:
Good day. I became a big sister for a new client today. I'm surprised at myself. I'm doing great, maybe bombarding her with too many rules at once, but it's not as intimidating as I thought it would be. She's also a really sweet lady, around my age, so that really helps. I had a fabulous visit with my son tonight. He was talkative and receptive and kept giving me tons of hugs. It felt wonderful. He came with my godmother, though. That's his new comfort level rule, but I didn't mind. It actually allowed for conversations to go much more smoothly. God, I miss him. Everyday, he looks more grown up, taller, more mature. Oh, just to have a day with him at home would mean so much to me. So much!
Good day. I became a big sister for a new client today. I'm surprised at myself. I'm doing great, maybe bombarding her with too many rules at once, but it's not as intimidating as I thought it would be. She's also a really sweet lady, around my age, so that really helps. I had a fabulous visit with my son tonight. He was talkative and receptive and kept giving me tons of hugs. It felt wonderful. He came with my godmother, though. That's his new comfort level rule, but I didn't mind. It actually allowed for conversations to go much more smoothly. God, I miss him. Everyday, he looks more grown up, taller, more mature. Oh, just to have a day with him at home would mean so much to me. So much!
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-Nine:
Whew! What an emotional day. I was ready to sit down with you (my councilor) and give an explanation of my concrete, rational plan to leave here once again. I had every detail in my head, where I'd go, how many meetings I'd go to a day, a job seeking plan, a continuation of all my homework, everything. After Dee left last night, in the disturbing way in which she had to leave (being physically threatened by another resident), I felt I too could not continue on here in this chaotic, drama-seeking, negative environment. I did not feel it was benefiting my personal recovery in anyway, but only dredging it down to a mucky place far outside of myself. I didn't sleep at all last night and I was adamant in my decision, and my strength in my continued sobriety and recovery. What changed? Fear, resentments, blameful anger, helplessness. Once I realized these emotions, I knew I couldn't leave. These are all pre-relapse warning signs for me, and as confident as I may have felt walking out those doors again, it would've eventually caught up with me. I would've drank. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but as soon as any mini-crisis faced me. I would ran full force to my rescuer, my my elongated bottle of red. That is how I know now that I can't leave yet. I am not ready. Still way too much to learn. I'm already exhausted. blah!
Whew! What an emotional day. I was ready to sit down with you (my councilor) and give an explanation of my concrete, rational plan to leave here once again. I had every detail in my head, where I'd go, how many meetings I'd go to a day, a job seeking plan, a continuation of all my homework, everything. After Dee left last night, in the disturbing way in which she had to leave (being physically threatened by another resident), I felt I too could not continue on here in this chaotic, drama-seeking, negative environment. I did not feel it was benefiting my personal recovery in anyway, but only dredging it down to a mucky place far outside of myself. I didn't sleep at all last night and I was adamant in my decision, and my strength in my continued sobriety and recovery. What changed? Fear, resentments, blameful anger, helplessness. Once I realized these emotions, I knew I couldn't leave. These are all pre-relapse warning signs for me, and as confident as I may have felt walking out those doors again, it would've eventually caught up with me. I would've drank. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but as soon as any mini-crisis faced me. I would ran full force to my rescuer, my my elongated bottle of red. That is how I know now that I can't leave yet. I am not ready. Still way too much to learn. I'm already exhausted. blah!
Run: Part 1
My councilor wanted me to write about my leaving rehab, why I left, and what occurred while I was gone. It's a bit on the long side, but when have I ever been short-winded? Part 1 of 3 parts.
RUN
I think the internal process began when my new roommate up and left after just three days here, and in a major thinking error way I blamed myself (guilt #1).
Then I had to fill out piles of child support and paternity paperwork which dredged up a multitude of past resentments. I told my son's father that I would never do this to him, make him pay for his immature and irresponsible delivering of sperm. (guilt #2)
And then I did my internal dialogue assignment for Seeking Safety class. I was proud of it. Deciphering these different sides of myself, giving them names, personalities, a voice. And I was touched when others complimented it. But then it seemed to become a show; this painful, personal dialogue with myself was now just becoming a form of lively entertainment. I was excited at first, being the director, the attention, pleading orders to my "actors." But then I felt the point of the assignment had become twisted and exaggerated. It no longer felt like mine, but now, just plump inky words on a piece of paper to act out and satirize. And then I felt bad for thinking this way, after all the praise I had received. (guilt #3)
Then that same evening, just as I was beginning to soothe myself over my play, I walked past the Hub, where the office staff integrate, and was handed a letter. It was from my boyfriend. I was elated. I had needed his kind, thoughtful words at that time. I ran to my room, grinning like a toddler with a sucker, and tore the letter open. The first few paragraphs were a compilation of his complaints about certain staff members and how he is treated when he comes to visit me. I tried to empathize with him, but it just felt like bickering to me and I wasn't in the mood to read it. So I skimmed forward, and the feeling words got much more detailed and in depth and began to include me, and him, and us. I grew fearful. He said he felt useless and hopeless and cut out of my life and my recovery completely. He did not feel in a healthy place himself, and therefore, felt he was of no use to me right now. He said he needed to back away and I panicked at that sentence like it was written in his own blood. I could barely read the remainder of the letter, tears clouding up everything around me. Part of me knew that he was just venting and sharing his frustrations with me. Part of me knew he was not leaving me forever. But the little girl in me took the reins and spat abandonment and loneliness into me with a force I didn't realize she had. I began to grieve. I couldn't call him; I couldn't see him. There was nothing I could personally do at that moment to make him feel better, more secure, to tell him to hold on for just a little longer (guilt #4).
After thirty minutes of snotty, drooling, pathetic, poor-me sobbing, I couldn't bear one more tear. Impulsively, I wedged my body off my lumpy twin bed, slid on my socks to the bathroom, grabbed my scissors from my make-up bag, sat cross-legged on the cold, orange linoleum floor, and began cutting my shoulder blade. My sole concentration was on that now, the physical pain, and remarkably I had stopped crying. I felt both relieved and terrified. I had never thought I would cut myself in a sober state. It had always happened previously with at least a bottle of wine in me. I thought my clear rationale would stop me. But here it was, happening, trickles of blood in a clean, straight line, and once it started, I knew I couldn't merely stop. To cease the physical pain would coerce the emotional pain to return. But, miraculously, after about fifteen minutes of the blade moving from shoulder to the inner crease of the elbow, down to the veined fragility of my wrist, my own fear actually stopped me. I knew I didn't want to die. I just wanted to live without the pain. I wrenched myself off the floor, put the stained scissors back into their compartment, and walked outside to the smoking area.
Immediately, the girls flocked to me, like seagulls to breadcrumbs. They knew something was wrong. Those damn, intuitive women! I tried to play it off that I was "fine." Ever the failing actress, they called my bluff and poked and prodded until they got the information about the letter. As I relived his words to them, my sadness turned to anger, at him. I felt he was manipulating me, trying to control my emotions by making me focus more on him than myself. This change in emotion felt empowering, but also shameful for feeling such emotions for a man who has only shown me kindness and forgiveness since we met nine months ago (guilt #5).
As the girls and I were walking back inside, I somehow found the nerve to ask my good friend Dee if she would take my scissors from me. She agreed, looking confused. Then panic hit her face like a retractable paddle. Standing outside of my bedroom door, I handed them over to her. I hugged her, thanked her, and whispered in her ear that my arm hurt. She immediately backed a foot away from me.
"You already cut yourself, didn't you?" she asked, grabbing my face and forcing me to stare directly at her.
"Yes," I said, ashamed, my lashes glued to my cheeks. I couldn't look at her. Even though I knew in the past that she had done the same thing, this incomprehensible life of cutting, I felt her opinion of me was changing for the worse, right there in the hallway with other women slowing their gait to hear us or speeding up to distance themselves from the drama. I didn't want to lose her as a friend. I had lost so much already.
Of course, I didn't lose her. Dee and her roommate, Mia took over for the night, became my protectors, my female vigilantes intent on keeping depression from creeping back in on me like a diaper rash. They planned a sleep over in the Parenting TV room. We scooched all three couches into an L-shape, so head would touch a foot and so forth. I was grateful. The last thing I needed at that time was so be alone. Before we could settle in for the evening, a woman I didn't recognize from the Hub staff came into our girly dwelling and asked if she could see my wounds. I stared down Dee, angry that she would give out my secret so readily.
"I'm sorry," Dee said, "but I need to make sure you're okay. The cuts might be more serious than you think. I had to tell someone."
I stared in her chocolate eyes and saw only compassion. I couldn't be angry. Honestly, I would have done the same thing.
I was ashamed as the woman rolled up my shirt sleeves, rubbed ointment on the cuts, and bandaged me all up from wrists to shoulders. The wounds were not deep, an excess of cat scratches, really, but the staff member wanted to be on the safe side. Dee and Mia glued their attention to every mark along my arms. Dee bit the inside of her mouth and Mia had tears welling up.
Guilt again caught up with me like a lion at the feet of gazelles.
The staff member got up off the couch and readied herself to leave when I grabbed her wrist and pleaded for her not to tell anyone else. She smiled, awkwardly glancing back from Dee's face to my pink-stockinged feet.
"Oh course, Souza. Whatever you need."
She quietly closed the door behind us and I slunk back into the couch, relieved. Now all of this can be gone, just a bad, morose memory, I thought. It wasn't until I noticed Dee gnawing at her fingernails, silent as a barren tree, that I now knew the woman had been lying. This wasn't over. Everyone would know. Tomorrow, I would be the tabloid headline of Rehab, Incorporated.
I sighed, frustrated and scared, and lied down on the couch, covering myself up from toe to neck with my comforter. Mia tried too jump start some humor, telling dirty jokes that got us giggling like pre-teens whenever an anatomically-correct body part was mentioned. We watched a bit of television, old sitcom reruns and a new episode of CSI. Then Dee asked if I would read the letter that my boyfriend had sent me, obvious in her mind, that this was the cause of all my current distress. I agreed. I actually wanted their opinion. I needed another female to interpret his words as I was, to help prove to myself that I wasn't merely over-reacting.
RUN
I think the internal process began when my new roommate up and left after just three days here, and in a major thinking error way I blamed myself (guilt #1).
Then I had to fill out piles of child support and paternity paperwork which dredged up a multitude of past resentments. I told my son's father that I would never do this to him, make him pay for his immature and irresponsible delivering of sperm. (guilt #2)
And then I did my internal dialogue assignment for Seeking Safety class. I was proud of it. Deciphering these different sides of myself, giving them names, personalities, a voice. And I was touched when others complimented it. But then it seemed to become a show; this painful, personal dialogue with myself was now just becoming a form of lively entertainment. I was excited at first, being the director, the attention, pleading orders to my "actors." But then I felt the point of the assignment had become twisted and exaggerated. It no longer felt like mine, but now, just plump inky words on a piece of paper to act out and satirize. And then I felt bad for thinking this way, after all the praise I had received. (guilt #3)
Then that same evening, just as I was beginning to soothe myself over my play, I walked past the Hub, where the office staff integrate, and was handed a letter. It was from my boyfriend. I was elated. I had needed his kind, thoughtful words at that time. I ran to my room, grinning like a toddler with a sucker, and tore the letter open. The first few paragraphs were a compilation of his complaints about certain staff members and how he is treated when he comes to visit me. I tried to empathize with him, but it just felt like bickering to me and I wasn't in the mood to read it. So I skimmed forward, and the feeling words got much more detailed and in depth and began to include me, and him, and us. I grew fearful. He said he felt useless and hopeless and cut out of my life and my recovery completely. He did not feel in a healthy place himself, and therefore, felt he was of no use to me right now. He said he needed to back away and I panicked at that sentence like it was written in his own blood. I could barely read the remainder of the letter, tears clouding up everything around me. Part of me knew that he was just venting and sharing his frustrations with me. Part of me knew he was not leaving me forever. But the little girl in me took the reins and spat abandonment and loneliness into me with a force I didn't realize she had. I began to grieve. I couldn't call him; I couldn't see him. There was nothing I could personally do at that moment to make him feel better, more secure, to tell him to hold on for just a little longer (guilt #4).
After thirty minutes of snotty, drooling, pathetic, poor-me sobbing, I couldn't bear one more tear. Impulsively, I wedged my body off my lumpy twin bed, slid on my socks to the bathroom, grabbed my scissors from my make-up bag, sat cross-legged on the cold, orange linoleum floor, and began cutting my shoulder blade. My sole concentration was on that now, the physical pain, and remarkably I had stopped crying. I felt both relieved and terrified. I had never thought I would cut myself in a sober state. It had always happened previously with at least a bottle of wine in me. I thought my clear rationale would stop me. But here it was, happening, trickles of blood in a clean, straight line, and once it started, I knew I couldn't merely stop. To cease the physical pain would coerce the emotional pain to return. But, miraculously, after about fifteen minutes of the blade moving from shoulder to the inner crease of the elbow, down to the veined fragility of my wrist, my own fear actually stopped me. I knew I didn't want to die. I just wanted to live without the pain. I wrenched myself off the floor, put the stained scissors back into their compartment, and walked outside to the smoking area.
Immediately, the girls flocked to me, like seagulls to breadcrumbs. They knew something was wrong. Those damn, intuitive women! I tried to play it off that I was "fine." Ever the failing actress, they called my bluff and poked and prodded until they got the information about the letter. As I relived his words to them, my sadness turned to anger, at him. I felt he was manipulating me, trying to control my emotions by making me focus more on him than myself. This change in emotion felt empowering, but also shameful for feeling such emotions for a man who has only shown me kindness and forgiveness since we met nine months ago (guilt #5).
As the girls and I were walking back inside, I somehow found the nerve to ask my good friend Dee if she would take my scissors from me. She agreed, looking confused. Then panic hit her face like a retractable paddle. Standing outside of my bedroom door, I handed them over to her. I hugged her, thanked her, and whispered in her ear that my arm hurt. She immediately backed a foot away from me.
"You already cut yourself, didn't you?" she asked, grabbing my face and forcing me to stare directly at her.
"Yes," I said, ashamed, my lashes glued to my cheeks. I couldn't look at her. Even though I knew in the past that she had done the same thing, this incomprehensible life of cutting, I felt her opinion of me was changing for the worse, right there in the hallway with other women slowing their gait to hear us or speeding up to distance themselves from the drama. I didn't want to lose her as a friend. I had lost so much already.
Of course, I didn't lose her. Dee and her roommate, Mia took over for the night, became my protectors, my female vigilantes intent on keeping depression from creeping back in on me like a diaper rash. They planned a sleep over in the Parenting TV room. We scooched all three couches into an L-shape, so head would touch a foot and so forth. I was grateful. The last thing I needed at that time was so be alone. Before we could settle in for the evening, a woman I didn't recognize from the Hub staff came into our girly dwelling and asked if she could see my wounds. I stared down Dee, angry that she would give out my secret so readily.
"I'm sorry," Dee said, "but I need to make sure you're okay. The cuts might be more serious than you think. I had to tell someone."
I stared in her chocolate eyes and saw only compassion. I couldn't be angry. Honestly, I would have done the same thing.
I was ashamed as the woman rolled up my shirt sleeves, rubbed ointment on the cuts, and bandaged me all up from wrists to shoulders. The wounds were not deep, an excess of cat scratches, really, but the staff member wanted to be on the safe side. Dee and Mia glued their attention to every mark along my arms. Dee bit the inside of her mouth and Mia had tears welling up.
Guilt again caught up with me like a lion at the feet of gazelles.
The staff member got up off the couch and readied herself to leave when I grabbed her wrist and pleaded for her not to tell anyone else. She smiled, awkwardly glancing back from Dee's face to my pink-stockinged feet.
"Oh course, Souza. Whatever you need."
She quietly closed the door behind us and I slunk back into the couch, relieved. Now all of this can be gone, just a bad, morose memory, I thought. It wasn't until I noticed Dee gnawing at her fingernails, silent as a barren tree, that I now knew the woman had been lying. This wasn't over. Everyone would know. Tomorrow, I would be the tabloid headline of Rehab, Incorporated.
I sighed, frustrated and scared, and lied down on the couch, covering myself up from toe to neck with my comforter. Mia tried too jump start some humor, telling dirty jokes that got us giggling like pre-teens whenever an anatomically-correct body part was mentioned. We watched a bit of television, old sitcom reruns and a new episode of CSI. Then Dee asked if I would read the letter that my boyfriend had sent me, obvious in her mind, that this was the cause of all my current distress. I agreed. I actually wanted their opinion. I needed another female to interpret his words as I was, to help prove to myself that I wasn't merely over-reacting.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-Eight:
Actually, great day today. besides doubled-over menstrual cramps, I was in a really chipper, out-going mood. I spoke confidently in all my classes today and even spoke in an AA meeting this evening, as well as grabbing a phone list on my way out. I also got to see my ragga-muffin (son) for a few minutes tonight as well. The family meeting here was canceled for the evening and that is usually when my son visits me. But my godmother needed to drop off some cigs for me and my son wanted to come along just so he could give me a kiss and a hug and have a glass of our "terrific" (as he says) fruit punch. I felt so wonderful and hopeful in those few minutes while he talked excitedly about his new video game and showed me the artwork and thank you card he was sending out to grampa. I didn't even have to ask for a hug and a kiss. He seemed so happy to see me and it lifted my spirits sky-high. I really needed that. Praying does help, by golly. He's going to come and stay longer on Wednesday and I can't wait. I have never loved a human being as much as I love him.
Actually, great day today. besides doubled-over menstrual cramps, I was in a really chipper, out-going mood. I spoke confidently in all my classes today and even spoke in an AA meeting this evening, as well as grabbing a phone list on my way out. I also got to see my ragga-muffin (son) for a few minutes tonight as well. The family meeting here was canceled for the evening and that is usually when my son visits me. But my godmother needed to drop off some cigs for me and my son wanted to come along just so he could give me a kiss and a hug and have a glass of our "terrific" (as he says) fruit punch. I felt so wonderful and hopeful in those few minutes while he talked excitedly about his new video game and showed me the artwork and thank you card he was sending out to grampa. I didn't even have to ask for a hug and a kiss. He seemed so happy to see me and it lifted my spirits sky-high. I really needed that. Praying does help, by golly. He's going to come and stay longer on Wednesday and I can't wait. I have never loved a human being as much as I love him.
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-Seven:
After reading over my long-winded, but very important to write, paper about my leaving and my relapse, I feel I know myself alot better. And it's definitely not all pretty. I've realized that guilt is my number one source of my acting out and my alcoholism and my self-harm. This is something I really need to face head-on and learn the needed tools to release that.I cannot feel responsible for everyone else's feelings: I will repeat this daily! I also realized how controlling and manipulating I am when concerning my relationship with my boyfriend. He is not perfect, far from it, but these accusations I am putting on him are just a mirror image of myself. I can see that now. And now, I can work on changing it. I've also seen, that when I'm in pain, I need the closest person to me to be in just as much pain as I am, even if I have to cause it myself. I don't understand this one, but I'm definitely going to talk to my therapist about it. I think I also need my boyfriend to feel just as much guilt as I do. He is hurt by something I said or did...I feel guilty...so I hurt myself...making him feel guilty for causing me that pain and guilt. It's a horrible, vicious cycle and it needs to be stopped. I have so much emotional damage to work on. But I also need to stay sober. Can I do them both at once, or is that too much at one time?
After reading over my long-winded, but very important to write, paper about my leaving and my relapse, I feel I know myself alot better. And it's definitely not all pretty. I've realized that guilt is my number one source of my acting out and my alcoholism and my self-harm. This is something I really need to face head-on and learn the needed tools to release that.I cannot feel responsible for everyone else's feelings: I will repeat this daily! I also realized how controlling and manipulating I am when concerning my relationship with my boyfriend. He is not perfect, far from it, but these accusations I am putting on him are just a mirror image of myself. I can see that now. And now, I can work on changing it. I've also seen, that when I'm in pain, I need the closest person to me to be in just as much pain as I am, even if I have to cause it myself. I don't understand this one, but I'm definitely going to talk to my therapist about it. I think I also need my boyfriend to feel just as much guilt as I do. He is hurt by something I said or did...I feel guilty...so I hurt myself...making him feel guilty for causing me that pain and guilt. It's a horrible, vicious cycle and it needs to be stopped. I have so much emotional damage to work on. But I also need to stay sober. Can I do them both at once, or is that too much at one time?
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-Five:
(no entry for day forty-four/very sick)
Still very sick today. No more throwing up, thank goodness, but very achy and fevery and nauseous. I slept and read and drank fluids for most of the day. My brain has been to fuzzy and clouded to do any deep thinking today. Hopefully, things will clear up tomorrow and I'll have something substantial to say. C'est la vie!
(no entry for day forty-six/just plain lazy)
(no entry for day forty-four/very sick)
Still very sick today. No more throwing up, thank goodness, but very achy and fevery and nauseous. I slept and read and drank fluids for most of the day. My brain has been to fuzzy and clouded to do any deep thinking today. Hopefully, things will clear up tomorrow and I'll have something substantial to say. C'est la vie!
(no entry for day forty-six/just plain lazy)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-Three:
I had a really nice day. Lots of light-heartedness and laughter. It really feels good to laugh again. I truly missed the girls here. I did a ton of homework today and caught up on some much needed sleep. I feel so dedicated to my recovery today. So much strength and hope about my future with my son. Besides myself, he is my main priority right now. I have been so wrapped up in my boyfriend and his pain and hurting (which I caused)that it's been difficult to focus on the impact my disease and recovery has had on my son. I can't do that anymore. I love my boyfriend and I care about his well-being, but I really need to put him on the sidelines for a while. I still want to keep in contact with him, but I need to distance myself emotionally from him right now. it's not healthy for me to keeping sucking in his pain and frustration like a vacuum. There is not enough room for all of us in their (my recovery)right now. It's too crowded. I have my self-love, my recovery, my sobriety, my son, and my financial Independence to concentrate on. That is alot already. I hope he can understand how I feel. But if he doesn't, I need to accept that. How does the song go, "Sometimes love just ain't enough."
I had a really nice day. Lots of light-heartedness and laughter. It really feels good to laugh again. I truly missed the girls here. I did a ton of homework today and caught up on some much needed sleep. I feel so dedicated to my recovery today. So much strength and hope about my future with my son. Besides myself, he is my main priority right now. I have been so wrapped up in my boyfriend and his pain and hurting (which I caused)that it's been difficult to focus on the impact my disease and recovery has had on my son. I can't do that anymore. I love my boyfriend and I care about his well-being, but I really need to put him on the sidelines for a while. I still want to keep in contact with him, but I need to distance myself emotionally from him right now. it's not healthy for me to keeping sucking in his pain and frustration like a vacuum. There is not enough room for all of us in their (my recovery)right now. It's too crowded. I have my self-love, my recovery, my sobriety, my son, and my financial Independence to concentrate on. That is alot already. I hope he can understand how I feel. But if he doesn't, I need to accept that. How does the song go, "Sometimes love just ain't enough."
Rehab Journal
I am working on a revision of my story concerning my run and return from rehab. When it is finished, I will post it.
Day Forty-two:
I've maintained a good mood today. I've feel positive and uplifted and so happy to be back here. I am having a difficult time with all the questions from everyone. It's realize it's their concern, or maybe just their curiosity, but people are asking me alot of personal questions about why I left and what I did while I was gone (some even asking to see the scratches on my arm). But, most especially, everyone wants to know what my consequences are. I get on the phone to call my son and the accusations begin: Aren't you on blackout (no calls or visits)? You get to make phone calls? What did your councilor say, ect..? Mostly, I've just said that she hasn't filled me in on anything yet. And seems to appease them for a moment. But I think alot of people might be angry that I'm not being punished like others who have left treatment, relapsed, and returned. I was actually wondering that myself? I am more than willing to have consequences for my actions. And it's not just because others think it is unfair or that I'm being singled out or favored in some way. I feel I deserve the consequences. It's a lesson I have to learn. I you feel I should be on blackout for a week or extent my stay here for another month, please let me know. I am willing.
Day Forty-two:
I've maintained a good mood today. I've feel positive and uplifted and so happy to be back here. I am having a difficult time with all the questions from everyone. It's realize it's their concern, or maybe just their curiosity, but people are asking me alot of personal questions about why I left and what I did while I was gone (some even asking to see the scratches on my arm). But, most especially, everyone wants to know what my consequences are. I get on the phone to call my son and the accusations begin: Aren't you on blackout (no calls or visits)? You get to make phone calls? What did your councilor say, ect..? Mostly, I've just said that she hasn't filled me in on anything yet. And seems to appease them for a moment. But I think alot of people might be angry that I'm not being punished like others who have left treatment, relapsed, and returned. I was actually wondering that myself? I am more than willing to have consequences for my actions. And it's not just because others think it is unfair or that I'm being singled out or favored in some way. I feel I deserve the consequences. It's a lesson I have to learn. I you feel I should be on blackout for a week or extent my stay here for another month, please let me know. I am willing.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Forty-One:
I'm back! Now you will never be rid of me (hehe). I have never felt so grateful in my entire life. Grateful to the staff for allowing me to return, grateful to the girls here who welcomed me back with open, non-judgemental arms, grateful to God who kept me safe and out of danger while I was "out there." And grateful to myself, to having the absolutely committed desire to want to return here and finish what I started, to heal and happily maintain my sobriety. I feel like I came "home" today and it was the most comforting feeling. I will never take this for granted again. I was given a gift by being here and I need to honor that. I am so excited to get a long, deep goodnight's sleep. Feel refreshed and re-energized and get back on track with my program tomorrow. I know it may sound like I'm in optimistic la-la land, but I need this right now. I need to allow myself to feel good and strong and proud of my return. Embarrassment and guilt and shame will only bring me down further. My "blossom" may have closed up for a few days, but it will slowly and confidently begin to re-open.
I'm back! Now you will never be rid of me (hehe). I have never felt so grateful in my entire life. Grateful to the staff for allowing me to return, grateful to the girls here who welcomed me back with open, non-judgemental arms, grateful to God who kept me safe and out of danger while I was "out there." And grateful to myself, to having the absolutely committed desire to want to return here and finish what I started, to heal and happily maintain my sobriety. I feel like I came "home" today and it was the most comforting feeling. I will never take this for granted again. I was given a gift by being here and I need to honor that. I am so excited to get a long, deep goodnight's sleep. Feel refreshed and re-energized and get back on track with my program tomorrow. I know it may sound like I'm in optimistic la-la land, but I need this right now. I need to allow myself to feel good and strong and proud of my return. Embarrassment and guilt and shame will only bring me down further. My "blossom" may have closed up for a few days, but it will slowly and confidently begin to re-open.
Rehab Journal
Days Thirty-Eight to Forty:
I literally ran from rehab, with pockets full of cigarettes and ID and cash and makeup, while taking out the garbage in the alley. I could hear my friends scream my name as I ran in heeled boots down the street, not looking back once.
I literally ran from rehab, with pockets full of cigarettes and ID and cash and makeup, while taking out the garbage in the alley. I could hear my friends scream my name as I ran in heeled boots down the street, not looking back once.
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-Seven:
I'm a little freaked out and feeling guilty. Because I'm receiving government cash assistance, the state has to press for child support from my son's father or i will lose all of my benefits if I don't comply. They are sending me all of this detailed and personal paperwork to fill out because, first, paternity needs to be established. It's all so stressful and I'm worried that it's going to get even more complicated. I'm feeling guilty because when I first told the father that I was pregnant (and he wanted me to get an abortion and I refused), I told him he didn't have to have anything to do with the child, that it was my decision alone to keep the baby, and that I would never press for any support in a legal manner. I have always been solid and resolute in this matter, even though everyone else has heckled me over the years to force him to pay up and take responsibility. But now I feel as if I don't even have a choice. I need these state benefits to survive and care for my son right now while I'm getting the help I need. But I don't want to ruin my son's father's life. And what if after all this, he presses for shared or sole custody? I haven't seen or heard from this man in 8 years. I know I'm worrying, but it's really hard not to right now. I just wish it would all go away! AHHHH!
I'm a little freaked out and feeling guilty. Because I'm receiving government cash assistance, the state has to press for child support from my son's father or i will lose all of my benefits if I don't comply. They are sending me all of this detailed and personal paperwork to fill out because, first, paternity needs to be established. It's all so stressful and I'm worried that it's going to get even more complicated. I'm feeling guilty because when I first told the father that I was pregnant (and he wanted me to get an abortion and I refused), I told him he didn't have to have anything to do with the child, that it was my decision alone to keep the baby, and that I would never press for any support in a legal manner. I have always been solid and resolute in this matter, even though everyone else has heckled me over the years to force him to pay up and take responsibility. But now I feel as if I don't even have a choice. I need these state benefits to survive and care for my son right now while I'm getting the help I need. But I don't want to ruin my son's father's life. And what if after all this, he presses for shared or sole custody? I haven't seen or heard from this man in 8 years. I know I'm worrying, but it's really hard not to right now. I just wish it would all go away! AHHHH!
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-Six:
I've had a calm, relaxing, yet productive day. I've been a bit on the emotional side since finishing some grief and loss homework, but it's good emotion, not destructive, which is such a nice change. I'm also trying to quit smoking. This morning, I told myself that i was just going to go cold turkey, but after four hours I succumbed to the craving. But I'm still looking on the positive side of it. If cutting down is what I need to do first, then so be it. I'm trying to stay optimistic and realistic about the process, instead of bashing myself with failure like I normally would do. I'm chewing gum after meals and that's working a little bit, at least prolonging the need. I've decided that I don't want to try Chantix, the stop-smoking med. I really don't want anymore meds and chemicals in my system. Wish me luck.
I've had a calm, relaxing, yet productive day. I've been a bit on the emotional side since finishing some grief and loss homework, but it's good emotion, not destructive, which is such a nice change. I'm also trying to quit smoking. This morning, I told myself that i was just going to go cold turkey, but after four hours I succumbed to the craving. But I'm still looking on the positive side of it. If cutting down is what I need to do first, then so be it. I'm trying to stay optimistic and realistic about the process, instead of bashing myself with failure like I normally would do. I'm chewing gum after meals and that's working a little bit, at least prolonging the need. I've decided that I don't want to try Chantix, the stop-smoking med. I really don't want anymore meds and chemicals in my system. Wish me luck.
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-Five:
I've been thinking alot recently about my future. About what my purpose is, about where I might go career-wise. I know people here say it's not a good idea to "future-trip," but I feel that thinking about the healthy, realistic options for my future is a good thing. I have five years of college under my belt already, and sadly, I have not used that education to my advantage (because of my addiction, my fear, my lack of self-esteem). Well, I've realized I can't do that anymore. No more excuses. I want to help people. First and foremost, I am going to help myself. But then, opportunities are limitless. Yes, I can help people through my writing and that is very important to me. But I'm also a people-person, a face-to-face person. Maybe I could go back to school for my Master's Degree in Social Services or Psychology. Maybe I could find employment or volunteer at Womenspace or SASS or working with the homeless. Heck, maybe I could even work for DHS and these women here to realize that we are not monsters who only want to adopt out their children. I could deliver flowers just to see the smiles on people's faces. I could decorate houses, organize parties and special events, just sit and talk and listen to people who need some soothing, hopeful words and a shoulder to lean on. There are so many opportunities out there for me. I'm excited about my future. But I'm also excited about the here and now. If it wasn't for this treatment I'm receiving, I probably wouldn't even be thinking so excitedly about my future. Work on myself now, help others after!
I've been thinking alot recently about my future. About what my purpose is, about where I might go career-wise. I know people here say it's not a good idea to "future-trip," but I feel that thinking about the healthy, realistic options for my future is a good thing. I have five years of college under my belt already, and sadly, I have not used that education to my advantage (because of my addiction, my fear, my lack of self-esteem). Well, I've realized I can't do that anymore. No more excuses. I want to help people. First and foremost, I am going to help myself. But then, opportunities are limitless. Yes, I can help people through my writing and that is very important to me. But I'm also a people-person, a face-to-face person. Maybe I could go back to school for my Master's Degree in Social Services or Psychology. Maybe I could find employment or volunteer at Womenspace or SASS or working with the homeless. Heck, maybe I could even work for DHS and these women here to realize that we are not monsters who only want to adopt out their children. I could deliver flowers just to see the smiles on people's faces. I could decorate houses, organize parties and special events, just sit and talk and listen to people who need some soothing, hopeful words and a shoulder to lean on. There are so many opportunities out there for me. I'm excited about my future. But I'm also excited about the here and now. If it wasn't for this treatment I'm receiving, I probably wouldn't even be thinking so excitedly about my future. Work on myself now, help others after!
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-Four:
I was proud of myself for saying what I needed to say in Process group this morning. It wasn't meant to hurt Cara, but I needed her to know how her actions had hurt me. Yet, it also really helped me to not have false ideals of people. To think well of them, but know that they are imperfect and capable of behaviors that I do not agree with or even understand, such as her stealing. It also helped me to release my tension and shock about the situation and to see her so remorseful, honest, and yearning for help in this other addiction of hers. I still embrace all of her good points, her helpful and wise words, her strength and compassion. But it may take me a while to truly trust her again. And I'm okay with that. I don't feel guilty for feeling that way and that is a big change for me. I'm changing everyday while I'm in here, and so far, I'm seeing and feeling positive results from that. Fear is disappearing every minute, hour, day, and faith is taking its place. It's a strange feeling, being comfortable with "unknowing" , bit it's also such a relief to not have to struggle to control every aspect of my life. Go with the flow, but stay focused and serene.
I was proud of myself for saying what I needed to say in Process group this morning. It wasn't meant to hurt Cara, but I needed her to know how her actions had hurt me. Yet, it also really helped me to not have false ideals of people. To think well of them, but know that they are imperfect and capable of behaviors that I do not agree with or even understand, such as her stealing. It also helped me to release my tension and shock about the situation and to see her so remorseful, honest, and yearning for help in this other addiction of hers. I still embrace all of her good points, her helpful and wise words, her strength and compassion. But it may take me a while to truly trust her again. And I'm okay with that. I don't feel guilty for feeling that way and that is a big change for me. I'm changing everyday while I'm in here, and so far, I'm seeing and feeling positive results from that. Fear is disappearing every minute, hour, day, and faith is taking its place. It's a strange feeling, being comfortable with "unknowing" , bit it's also such a relief to not have to struggle to control every aspect of my life. Go with the flow, but stay focused and serene.
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-Three
(no entry for day thirty-two)
I had a wonderful visit with my boyfriend yesterday. We were both a little nervous at first. I didn't quite know how to act, what was appropriate, ect. Then, I took some deep breaths, told myself how ridiculous I was being, and then I was able to relax. I mean, c'om on, it was just my boyfriend, not an Ivy league dean I had to impress or something. With this new found understanding about our relationship, I realized I was able to speak much more candidly and openly and honestly, without guilt or fear, or terrified about his reaction, that if I said the wrong thing, he was just going to up and leave me. I didn't have that weighing me down and it felt so freeing. He truly is my best friend and I am so grateful to have him in my life. Even though we can't "be together" as we would like right now, there is still so much love there. Love and comfort and hope. But right now, I get focus primarily on me without feeling guilt that I am neglecting others, and that feels so miraculous. I am thanking God every night for my sobriety, my acceptance, my new positive attitude, my ability to let things go, my new healthy self-talk. And every day, I'm feeling stronger and more secure on living my life the way I was supposed to live it. I still have a fear of relapsing. But that is normal. And I feel it is healthy fear, not debilitating fear. Gosh, just what a great last four days I have had. I pray they continue.
(no entry for day thirty-two)
I had a wonderful visit with my boyfriend yesterday. We were both a little nervous at first. I didn't quite know how to act, what was appropriate, ect. Then, I took some deep breaths, told myself how ridiculous I was being, and then I was able to relax. I mean, c'om on, it was just my boyfriend, not an Ivy league dean I had to impress or something. With this new found understanding about our relationship, I realized I was able to speak much more candidly and openly and honestly, without guilt or fear, or terrified about his reaction, that if I said the wrong thing, he was just going to up and leave me. I didn't have that weighing me down and it felt so freeing. He truly is my best friend and I am so grateful to have him in my life. Even though we can't "be together" as we would like right now, there is still so much love there. Love and comfort and hope. But right now, I get focus primarily on me without feeling guilt that I am neglecting others, and that feels so miraculous. I am thanking God every night for my sobriety, my acceptance, my new positive attitude, my ability to let things go, my new healthy self-talk. And every day, I'm feeling stronger and more secure on living my life the way I was supposed to live it. I still have a fear of relapsing. But that is normal. And I feel it is healthy fear, not debilitating fear. Gosh, just what a great last four days I have had. I pray they continue.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty-One:
I had another good day, two in a row. Hallelujah! It's a miracle. I've just been feeling really positive lately. I think I'm finally coming to terms with the meaning of acceptance. It's allowing me not to over-react to things, to get over-heated, to feel sadness or self-pity. I'm just going along with the flow of things, trusting God to put what I need in my path. It really feels wonderful. Odd, but wonderful. I had a nice, light conversation with my boyfriend over the phone and realized he truly is my best friend. I can accept that and love him just as we are right now. It's actually a weight off my shoulders; not feeling like I have to be the perfect girlfriend, who says and does all the right things. He, of course, never expected this of me. But I did of myself. And that continuous feeling of self-failure was drowning me. I feel lifted up. I accept myself as I am right now. I'm saying "no," I'm voicing my opinion more, I'm finding strength in myself. And you know what, people seem even more drawn to me now. My son also came for a quick visit tonight. We had a great time. He gave me tons of hugs and kisses and told me he was proud of what I was learning here. He said he does want to live with me. That he's not scared anymore. He said he only gets sad when I sound sad. We still have alot to work on, building that trust and stability back up. But I am so hopeful.
I had another good day, two in a row. Hallelujah! It's a miracle. I've just been feeling really positive lately. I think I'm finally coming to terms with the meaning of acceptance. It's allowing me not to over-react to things, to get over-heated, to feel sadness or self-pity. I'm just going along with the flow of things, trusting God to put what I need in my path. It really feels wonderful. Odd, but wonderful. I had a nice, light conversation with my boyfriend over the phone and realized he truly is my best friend. I can accept that and love him just as we are right now. It's actually a weight off my shoulders; not feeling like I have to be the perfect girlfriend, who says and does all the right things. He, of course, never expected this of me. But I did of myself. And that continuous feeling of self-failure was drowning me. I feel lifted up. I accept myself as I am right now. I'm saying "no," I'm voicing my opinion more, I'm finding strength in myself. And you know what, people seem even more drawn to me now. My son also came for a quick visit tonight. We had a great time. He gave me tons of hugs and kisses and told me he was proud of what I was learning here. He said he does want to live with me. That he's not scared anymore. He said he only gets sad when I sound sad. We still have alot to work on, building that trust and stability back up. But I am so hopeful.
Rehab Journal
Day Thirty:
Self-pity. I am literary so sick and exhausted of self-pity. Do you know how much effort it takes to feel that sorry for yourself? I'm learning to be rid of it. Everyday, I feel it decreasing inch by inch, and self-love is sneaking its way in. I've hated myself for so long. I've missed out on so much life, so much beauty, so much opportunity. Well, no more. And I'm not even going to say that I'm going "to try," I'm actually going "to do." Is this the thinking error, super optimism? I hope not. I hope it's a growing confidence in myself, all my "selves" working in unison to aide in my healing. Self-pity, depression, woe is me: those feelings make me want to drink. And when I drink in that state, self-harm normally will occur. I don't want to hurt myself, to punish myself for reasons that are out of my control, or even for the "not so nice" things I've done to others. I mean, yes, I feel remorse, immense amounts of it. But how is cutting myself or swallowing pills going to remedy the situation? How would that possibly make the other person feel better, or even want to forgive me? That's ridiculous. And I don't want to feel that way anymore. I know I'm ranting, but I feel I need to repeat this over and over for it to really stick in my head, for all my selves to truly hear it. Today, I really like myself.
Self-pity. I am literary so sick and exhausted of self-pity. Do you know how much effort it takes to feel that sorry for yourself? I'm learning to be rid of it. Everyday, I feel it decreasing inch by inch, and self-love is sneaking its way in. I've hated myself for so long. I've missed out on so much life, so much beauty, so much opportunity. Well, no more. And I'm not even going to say that I'm going "to try," I'm actually going "to do." Is this the thinking error, super optimism? I hope not. I hope it's a growing confidence in myself, all my "selves" working in unison to aide in my healing. Self-pity, depression, woe is me: those feelings make me want to drink. And when I drink in that state, self-harm normally will occur. I don't want to hurt myself, to punish myself for reasons that are out of my control, or even for the "not so nice" things I've done to others. I mean, yes, I feel remorse, immense amounts of it. But how is cutting myself or swallowing pills going to remedy the situation? How would that possibly make the other person feel better, or even want to forgive me? That's ridiculous. And I don't want to feel that way anymore. I know I'm ranting, but I feel I need to repeat this over and over for it to really stick in my head, for all my selves to truly hear it. Today, I really like myself.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-nine:
Acceptance! It seems so simple, but, oh, is it difficult at times. Accept the things we cannot change. I cannot change the fact that my son is scared and angry and confused. I can just love him and support him and show him through my words and actions that I am getting healthier and stronger, and that in time, as long as it may take for him, he will feel safe and secure with me again. I can accept that. I can accept responsibility for the pain and sorrow I've caused my boyfriend, but I can also accept the love and cherishable moments we had together as well. I need to forgive myself for those hurtful behaviors, even though he may not be ready to forgive. I can't fully heal if I obsess on past behavior, punish myself with guilt and remorse, and wallow in depressive self-pity. I can accept that he has been hurt. And I can accept that I am truly sorry for causing it. I can accept that I am working toward a recovery, a new life where I won't even need to worry about hurting him or my son or others I have in the past. I can accept that day by day. I'm working on this, and that right now, that's all I can do. And that's okay. I can accept my boyfriend's friendship and love and support, and if one day, our relationship grows into something more, then that is wonderful. If it does not, then I can cherish what he gave me and how he loved me and move onto another chapter in my life. God put him in my life for a reason, and whatever that reason is, I accept it fully.
Acceptance! It seems so simple, but, oh, is it difficult at times. Accept the things we cannot change. I cannot change the fact that my son is scared and angry and confused. I can just love him and support him and show him through my words and actions that I am getting healthier and stronger, and that in time, as long as it may take for him, he will feel safe and secure with me again. I can accept that. I can accept responsibility for the pain and sorrow I've caused my boyfriend, but I can also accept the love and cherishable moments we had together as well. I need to forgive myself for those hurtful behaviors, even though he may not be ready to forgive. I can't fully heal if I obsess on past behavior, punish myself with guilt and remorse, and wallow in depressive self-pity. I can accept that he has been hurt. And I can accept that I am truly sorry for causing it. I can accept that I am working toward a recovery, a new life where I won't even need to worry about hurting him or my son or others I have in the past. I can accept that day by day. I'm working on this, and that right now, that's all I can do. And that's okay. I can accept my boyfriend's friendship and love and support, and if one day, our relationship grows into something more, then that is wonderful. If it does not, then I can cherish what he gave me and how he loved me and move onto another chapter in my life. God put him in my life for a reason, and whatever that reason is, I accept it fully.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Eight:
Okay, weirdness, again. Happy and chipper and energetic yesterday, then lethargic, sad, and grieving again today. It may be because I stayed up so much last night. It may be because I feel so bad about getting my first write-up today. it may because I haven't talked to my son since Friday because he's been celebrating another Christmas and New Year on the coast with my godmother's family. It may be because I haven't spoken to my boyfriend since our sort of break-up on Saturday. I don't know if he's just not home when I call or if he's avoiding me. Maybe he feels the distance is better for me right now. Maybe he's angry at me. Maybe he's grieving now too and it's too painful for him to talk to me. I hate not knowing. When I don't know the truth of the matter, my mind starts reeling and worrying and I can't settle it down until I know what exactly is going on. It's frustrating. I feel so supported and cared for here, but now with my son not wanting to visit me as much and my boyfriend, maybe avoiding me, I feel really alone. The two people I love most in this world (because of how I've hurt them) are distancing themselves from me, and it hurts so bad. I'm going to call my sponsor this evening, eat a good dinner, and go to bed early. day by day, right? Maybe tomorrow I'll have another bout of happiness. I can hope.
P.s. When do you think I can begin the grief and loss class?
Okay, weirdness, again. Happy and chipper and energetic yesterday, then lethargic, sad, and grieving again today. It may be because I stayed up so much last night. It may be because I feel so bad about getting my first write-up today. it may because I haven't talked to my son since Friday because he's been celebrating another Christmas and New Year on the coast with my godmother's family. It may be because I haven't spoken to my boyfriend since our sort of break-up on Saturday. I don't know if he's just not home when I call or if he's avoiding me. Maybe he feels the distance is better for me right now. Maybe he's angry at me. Maybe he's grieving now too and it's too painful for him to talk to me. I hate not knowing. When I don't know the truth of the matter, my mind starts reeling and worrying and I can't settle it down until I know what exactly is going on. It's frustrating. I feel so supported and cared for here, but now with my son not wanting to visit me as much and my boyfriend, maybe avoiding me, I feel really alone. The two people I love most in this world (because of how I've hurt them) are distancing themselves from me, and it hurts so bad. I'm going to call my sponsor this evening, eat a good dinner, and go to bed early. day by day, right? Maybe tomorrow I'll have another bout of happiness. I can hope.
P.s. When do you think I can begin the grief and loss class?
Monday, April 7, 2008
Before I Found Acceptance
Metallic taste on the inside of my lip.
Bleeding gums a possibility, nose bleed
earlier in the day and finger sucked
to cleanse the caked-on blood. Basically,
it is bitter, iron-based, crumpled tin
foil against my teeth. It leaves a head
ache, sharp pinpoint of pain at the temple
near the small pink scratch on my right
eyelid. I don't know where that came
from either: a relapse drunken fall
against a baseboard; a strange man's
dog lurching up to the excitement of a new
face at 2am after mediocre karaoke ends
with the microphone smacking a cement floor.
It could have been my own nail, scrubbing
gold metallic shadow from blotched hungover
lids. The unknowing is what scares me.
The emptiness of my memory like a leather
album empty of all its photographs,
life moments captured in stand-still,
smiles and beaches and carousels torn
into tiny, coarse-edged pieces and dropped
from my boyfriend's pained, red hands
into an Albertson's labeled paper sack
and tossed into the recycling bin like
wet green wood is tossed behind the metal
barrier into fire. It will not burn. It will
not be completely lost. It will linger
unscathed in neon orange heat. It will linger
in the memory even with attempts at being destroyed.
Bleeding gums a possibility, nose bleed
earlier in the day and finger sucked
to cleanse the caked-on blood. Basically,
it is bitter, iron-based, crumpled tin
foil against my teeth. It leaves a head
ache, sharp pinpoint of pain at the temple
near the small pink scratch on my right
eyelid. I don't know where that came
from either: a relapse drunken fall
against a baseboard; a strange man's
dog lurching up to the excitement of a new
face at 2am after mediocre karaoke ends
with the microphone smacking a cement floor.
It could have been my own nail, scrubbing
gold metallic shadow from blotched hungover
lids. The unknowing is what scares me.
The emptiness of my memory like a leather
album empty of all its photographs,
life moments captured in stand-still,
smiles and beaches and carousels torn
into tiny, coarse-edged pieces and dropped
from my boyfriend's pained, red hands
into an Albertson's labeled paper sack
and tossed into the recycling bin like
wet green wood is tossed behind the metal
barrier into fire. It will not burn. It will
not be completely lost. It will linger
unscathed in neon orange heat. It will linger
in the memory even with attempts at being destroyed.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Seven: New Year's Eve:
Today was odd. After all that deep grieving for the past two days, I was in a strangely chipper and happy state today. I've been smiling and happy all day. What's wrong with me? I know I'm not bi-polar. How can I feel happy when my boyfriend is not with me? I don't understand any of it. But I'm not going to worry about it right now. It feels good to feel good. We had a fabulous night. I helped to orchestrate a New Year's Eve dance in the cafeteria. We made streamers and a disco ball and silly hats. I can honestly say, it was the best New Year's Eve I've had in a very long time. And I was sober! What do you know, it is possible. It really brought all the girls together, dancing and laughing and just being our silly selves. It was fabulous. At midnight, we all came in a large circle, said the Serenity Prayer, then hooted and hollered and hugged each other. We got through a very tough night. And we got through it together.
Today was odd. After all that deep grieving for the past two days, I was in a strangely chipper and happy state today. I've been smiling and happy all day. What's wrong with me? I know I'm not bi-polar. How can I feel happy when my boyfriend is not with me? I don't understand any of it. But I'm not going to worry about it right now. It feels good to feel good. We had a fabulous night. I helped to orchestrate a New Year's Eve dance in the cafeteria. We made streamers and a disco ball and silly hats. I can honestly say, it was the best New Year's Eve I've had in a very long time. And I was sober! What do you know, it is possible. It really brought all the girls together, dancing and laughing and just being our silly selves. It was fabulous. At midnight, we all came in a large circle, said the Serenity Prayer, then hooted and hollered and hugged each other. We got through a very tough night. And we got through it together.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Six:
All I want to do is sleep. When I open my eyes, all I feel is pain, wrenching sadness that feels almost unbearable. My boyfriend came for a visit yesterday. And we finally got the courage to discuss "us". I had been disillusioned since I had been in here. Thinking, assuming, fantasizing that everything was perfectly okay between us. That since I was here getting the help I needed, that our previous plans of living together, then marriage, then children, were a solid reality as long as I stayed sober. As I said, this was a delusion, this was false hope that I felt i had to hold onto just to feel safe and sane. But as we talked, reality set in. I am the love of his life and his best friend and he wants nothing more than to see me heal and recover and be happy. But because of all the pain I have caused him in the past eight months, he cannot promise any of those things I was hoping for: marriage, family, growing old together. So he didn't know where we were as a couple. No label could be put to it. He knows at this point that I cannot give him the absolute promises he needs to have a secure partnership: sobriety, fidelity, trust, rational communication. I wish I could promise him these things right now, but my reality right now, tells me that I cannot. So where does that leave us? We both said, I don't know. We are stuck in limbo, in this weird, undefinable, uncertain place. it's going to take a long time for both of us to heal, so this limbo status could be a very long time, or it might not, he said. He seemed fine to stay there in that unknowing place, and just to see, day by day, where it takes us. Whether it brings us closer or tears us apart. He was so calm with this conclusion. I wasn't. I can't be in limbo. I need to be either together or not. Yes, I'm a black and white thinker and I hate it, I told him, but I can't be in here trying ti focus on myself and my healing and my recovery, when everyday I'm worrying about "what" we are. So then it's over, he said. I answered, Yes, right now, I think it would be best if we were just friends. I was crying. Are you sure that is what you want, he asked. I think so, yes, I answered. We hugged. We cried. We told each other we loved each other. We promised to support each other in any way that is needed. And then he left. And I am dying inside. I have never loved like I have loved him. I have never hurt like I have hurt him. I have never grieved over a man like I am grieving now. I am breathing and that is all I am capable of right now. maybe tomorrow, maybe a smile. There are no guarantees.
All I want to do is sleep. When I open my eyes, all I feel is pain, wrenching sadness that feels almost unbearable. My boyfriend came for a visit yesterday. And we finally got the courage to discuss "us". I had been disillusioned since I had been in here. Thinking, assuming, fantasizing that everything was perfectly okay between us. That since I was here getting the help I needed, that our previous plans of living together, then marriage, then children, were a solid reality as long as I stayed sober. As I said, this was a delusion, this was false hope that I felt i had to hold onto just to feel safe and sane. But as we talked, reality set in. I am the love of his life and his best friend and he wants nothing more than to see me heal and recover and be happy. But because of all the pain I have caused him in the past eight months, he cannot promise any of those things I was hoping for: marriage, family, growing old together. So he didn't know where we were as a couple. No label could be put to it. He knows at this point that I cannot give him the absolute promises he needs to have a secure partnership: sobriety, fidelity, trust, rational communication. I wish I could promise him these things right now, but my reality right now, tells me that I cannot. So where does that leave us? We both said, I don't know. We are stuck in limbo, in this weird, undefinable, uncertain place. it's going to take a long time for both of us to heal, so this limbo status could be a very long time, or it might not, he said. He seemed fine to stay there in that unknowing place, and just to see, day by day, where it takes us. Whether it brings us closer or tears us apart. He was so calm with this conclusion. I wasn't. I can't be in limbo. I need to be either together or not. Yes, I'm a black and white thinker and I hate it, I told him, but I can't be in here trying ti focus on myself and my healing and my recovery, when everyday I'm worrying about "what" we are. So then it's over, he said. I answered, Yes, right now, I think it would be best if we were just friends. I was crying. Are you sure that is what you want, he asked. I think so, yes, I answered. We hugged. We cried. We told each other we loved each other. We promised to support each other in any way that is needed. And then he left. And I am dying inside. I have never loved like I have loved him. I have never hurt like I have hurt him. I have never grieved over a man like I am grieving now. I am breathing and that is all I am capable of right now. maybe tomorrow, maybe a smile. There are no guarantees.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Four:
Overall, today was a good day. Lots of relaxation and laughter. I did have a bit of a frustrating visit with my son today. He actually seemed depressed. I tried to perk him up. We went to the TV room to watch cartoons and wanted to leave after ten minutes, claiming boredom. I asked him if he wanted to play a boardgame and he said no. Then I took him to the Ed room and asked him if he wanted to draw. He hung his head and said fine. We were having fun for about five minutes when he said his drawing was stupid and crumpled it up. I don't understand why he thinks so lowly of himself. I have always made an effort to praise him and compliment him. Yes, rarely, in the heat of the moment, unkind words have come blasting out of my mouth. But I always apologize 2 seconds later, tell I didn't mean it, and tell him over and over that I love him. Maybe this has done more damage to his self-esteem than I had thought. I feel horrible and ashamed. For the first time ever, I looked at my almost pre-teen son and thought, I don't know him at all. He seems like a stranger to me. I wanted to cry. I tried to talk to him about why I was here and I asked him how he felt and that he could share anything with me. He just clammed up and shook his head and said, I don't want to talk about it. Well, sweety, you need to talk to someone about your feelings. It will really help, I said. He shrugged his shoulders and answered, I don't talk to anyone about my life. I'm so worried about him. He can't keep this all festered inside. It will eat him alive. I love him so much and just want to see him happy and feel safe and taken care of. He did share one thing with me though. I was trying to shar possible living arrangements for when I leave here, and he said very sternly, I don't want to live alone with you, just you and me, unless it's right next door to Granny. I said, Is it because I left you alone that one night to get more to drink and you were really scared? He couldn't even look me in the eye. Yes, is all he said. How can I ever forgive myself for what I have done to my beautiful child? I just want to wrap him in my arms and promise him that everything is going to be okay. But, right now, I can't promise him that. And besides, he rarely allows me to hug or hold him anymore. Will just remaining sober repair all of this? Is it even repairable? Will he ever trust me again? I need to pray.
Overall, today was a good day. Lots of relaxation and laughter. I did have a bit of a frustrating visit with my son today. He actually seemed depressed. I tried to perk him up. We went to the TV room to watch cartoons and wanted to leave after ten minutes, claiming boredom. I asked him if he wanted to play a boardgame and he said no. Then I took him to the Ed room and asked him if he wanted to draw. He hung his head and said fine. We were having fun for about five minutes when he said his drawing was stupid and crumpled it up. I don't understand why he thinks so lowly of himself. I have always made an effort to praise him and compliment him. Yes, rarely, in the heat of the moment, unkind words have come blasting out of my mouth. But I always apologize 2 seconds later, tell I didn't mean it, and tell him over and over that I love him. Maybe this has done more damage to his self-esteem than I had thought. I feel horrible and ashamed. For the first time ever, I looked at my almost pre-teen son and thought, I don't know him at all. He seems like a stranger to me. I wanted to cry. I tried to talk to him about why I was here and I asked him how he felt and that he could share anything with me. He just clammed up and shook his head and said, I don't want to talk about it. Well, sweety, you need to talk to someone about your feelings. It will really help, I said. He shrugged his shoulders and answered, I don't talk to anyone about my life. I'm so worried about him. He can't keep this all festered inside. It will eat him alive. I love him so much and just want to see him happy and feel safe and taken care of. He did share one thing with me though. I was trying to shar possible living arrangements for when I leave here, and he said very sternly, I don't want to live alone with you, just you and me, unless it's right next door to Granny. I said, Is it because I left you alone that one night to get more to drink and you were really scared? He couldn't even look me in the eye. Yes, is all he said. How can I ever forgive myself for what I have done to my beautiful child? I just want to wrap him in my arms and promise him that everything is going to be okay. But, right now, I can't promise him that. And besides, he rarely allows me to hug or hold him anymore. Will just remaining sober repair all of this? Is it even repairable? Will he ever trust me again? I need to pray.
rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Three:
Today was a much better day. I'm realizing how much I need people, especially female support. The emotional intimacy women can give each other is incomparable. Our empathy, our instincts as to when someone is in pain or lonely or just needing a hug or a shoulder. I didn't realize how much I needed this until recently. Actually, that's a lie. I've always known I've needed this. There was just no one available to give it. My mother as this type of support for me, and when she died I felt there was no one to take her place. My closest girlfriends all live out of state, so I was able to get verbal support, but not the nearness, the physical aspect of it. And my godmother, whom I've lived with for the last ten years, she, well, she's not the huggy-type. She's an amazing, giving, selfless woman, but when I was struggling or sad or depressed, she just wanted to fix me. She wanted to talk it out and rationalize it and fold the pain up into a little box to be place up on a high shelf. when All I wanted, all I needed, was to be held, to be loved, to be listened to without judgement. I would tell her this and she would always feel bad that she couldn't give me this, but it just wasn't in her natural make-up. So, I am thankful that I am here with all of these open arms. And I am determined to keep this kind of support when I leave.
Today was a much better day. I'm realizing how much I need people, especially female support. The emotional intimacy women can give each other is incomparable. Our empathy, our instincts as to when someone is in pain or lonely or just needing a hug or a shoulder. I didn't realize how much I needed this until recently. Actually, that's a lie. I've always known I've needed this. There was just no one available to give it. My mother as this type of support for me, and when she died I felt there was no one to take her place. My closest girlfriends all live out of state, so I was able to get verbal support, but not the nearness, the physical aspect of it. And my godmother, whom I've lived with for the last ten years, she, well, she's not the huggy-type. She's an amazing, giving, selfless woman, but when I was struggling or sad or depressed, she just wanted to fix me. She wanted to talk it out and rationalize it and fold the pain up into a little box to be place up on a high shelf. when All I wanted, all I needed, was to be held, to be loved, to be listened to without judgement. I would tell her this and she would always feel bad that she couldn't give me this, but it just wasn't in her natural make-up. So, I am thankful that I am here with all of these open arms. And I am determined to keep this kind of support when I leave.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty-Two:
I unpacked all my bags tonight. I am so relieved. But I am still scared to stay and just as scared to leave. So as they say, if your unsure of where you want to go, you may as well just stay where you are. Yes, I missed my family. Yes, it was Christmas. Yes, I wanted some sense of normalcy, and yes, I even wanted to drink. I knew as soon as I would walk through those doors, a glass of wine would be my first and only priority. And of course, as much as I would promise myself, it would not have ended with just one glass. I knew it would have ruined everything. That I wouldn't just be hurting myself, but also my son and godmother and boyfriend and all the people here who care about me. But in that sad, obsessed, addict state, I didn't care about anything or anyone, other than leaving, than being free. Thank god for these women, for my boyfriend. Without their words and hugs and tears, I don't know where I would be today, if I would even be alive. I told everyone I would sleep on it, But I knew as soon as my head hit the pillow last night, that I was staying. I have so much work to do, so much more to learn, so much more healing. Last night really made me realize that again. And I am so thankful. And I am even proud of myself.I stayed and that alone was my decision to make. I made the right one, and I pray to make many, many more.
I unpacked all my bags tonight. I am so relieved. But I am still scared to stay and just as scared to leave. So as they say, if your unsure of where you want to go, you may as well just stay where you are. Yes, I missed my family. Yes, it was Christmas. Yes, I wanted some sense of normalcy, and yes, I even wanted to drink. I knew as soon as I would walk through those doors, a glass of wine would be my first and only priority. And of course, as much as I would promise myself, it would not have ended with just one glass. I knew it would have ruined everything. That I wouldn't just be hurting myself, but also my son and godmother and boyfriend and all the people here who care about me. But in that sad, obsessed, addict state, I didn't care about anything or anyone, other than leaving, than being free. Thank god for these women, for my boyfriend. Without their words and hugs and tears, I don't know where I would be today, if I would even be alive. I told everyone I would sleep on it, But I knew as soon as my head hit the pillow last night, that I was staying. I have so much work to do, so much more to learn, so much more healing. Last night really made me realize that again. And I am so thankful. And I am even proud of myself.I stayed and that alone was my decision to make. I made the right one, and I pray to make many, many more.
Rehab Journal
Day Twenty: Christmas Eve:
Well, the day definitely got better as it went along. The morning was rough, though. I would like to say one thing about process group this morning. I honestly do not feel what happened to Clare was kind nor compassionate. And on Christmas eve, of all days. Yes, these were opinions she my have needed to hear, but I feel it could have been done more diplomatically, and on a different day. She was in such great pain and I feel we were the cause of that. I also did not want to speak. I did not want to cause her more pain. I felt as if I was forced into speaking. I did not like that. And the next time, I am going to stick to my guns and stand up for what I do or do not want to share. I feel she was attacked, even though we tried to say loving things about her as well. And I feel so much empathy and heartbreak for her right now. Well, leaving that subject. My holiday spirit began to spike around dinner time. even though I was missing my family incredibly and desired to run through those doors to be with them, I didn't and I'm glad. The other girls here really helped in lifting me up. They even surprised me by getting a group together to carol down the hallways. It was so fun and everyone was smiling. It really brought us all together and allowed us to forget our sadness and loneliness for a short while. If I can get through Christmas here, I know the rest of my time here will be a piece of cake. Maybe. I'll hope for the best and what will come will come.
Well, the day definitely got better as it went along. The morning was rough, though. I would like to say one thing about process group this morning. I honestly do not feel what happened to Clare was kind nor compassionate. And on Christmas eve, of all days. Yes, these were opinions she my have needed to hear, but I feel it could have been done more diplomatically, and on a different day. She was in such great pain and I feel we were the cause of that. I also did not want to speak. I did not want to cause her more pain. I felt as if I was forced into speaking. I did not like that. And the next time, I am going to stick to my guns and stand up for what I do or do not want to share. I feel she was attacked, even though we tried to say loving things about her as well. And I feel so much empathy and heartbreak for her right now. Well, leaving that subject. My holiday spirit began to spike around dinner time. even though I was missing my family incredibly and desired to run through those doors to be with them, I didn't and I'm glad. The other girls here really helped in lifting me up. They even surprised me by getting a group together to carol down the hallways. It was so fun and everyone was smiling. It really brought us all together and allowed us to forget our sadness and loneliness for a short while. If I can get through Christmas here, I know the rest of my time here will be a piece of cake. Maybe. I'll hope for the best and what will come will come.
Rehab Journal
Day Nineteen:
Slept all day today again. But out of depression and avoidance. I canceled my visit with my son. I didn't feel I would be good company and I didn't want to have to sit there with a false smile for 2 hours. I want to be home with my family. This is so hard, I can almost not bear it. I have no desire to sing carols, to be festive at all. I know I should be grateful for all that I have and that I've been given.But it's so hard.
Slept all day today again. But out of depression and avoidance. I canceled my visit with my son. I didn't feel I would be good company and I didn't want to have to sit there with a false smile for 2 hours. I want to be home with my family. This is so hard, I can almost not bear it. I have no desire to sing carols, to be festive at all. I know I should be grateful for all that I have and that I've been given.But it's so hard.
Rehab Journal
Day Eighteen:
Slept all day, just as I was hoping for. Had a wonderful visit with my boyfriend. That's about it.
Slept all day, just as I was hoping for. Had a wonderful visit with my boyfriend. That's about it.
Rehab Journal
Day Seventeen:
Today was a very busy day, very physically and mentally exhausting. Classes then chores then shopping then a meeting then homework. every time I longed to take a little nap, I had something I had to do. Believe me, I'm not complaining. I would rather have a full, structured day than a lazy day where my depression could catch up with me. But I am really looking forward to the weekend. To take naps and read and watch television and have visits with my loved ones. I found Connor some amazing gifts today for Christmas. He's going to be so excited. And I am so grateful for the selfless, giving nature of those who donated these gifts, and for the staff who put it all together for us. It was such a blessing. Oh, I can go to sleep now. Yeh!
Today was a very busy day, very physically and mentally exhausting. Classes then chores then shopping then a meeting then homework. every time I longed to take a little nap, I had something I had to do. Believe me, I'm not complaining. I would rather have a full, structured day than a lazy day where my depression could catch up with me. But I am really looking forward to the weekend. To take naps and read and watch television and have visits with my loved ones. I found Connor some amazing gifts today for Christmas. He's going to be so excited. And I am so grateful for the selfless, giving nature of those who donated these gifts, and for the staff who put it all together for us. It was such a blessing. Oh, I can go to sleep now. Yeh!
Rehab Journal
Day Sixteen:
One day at a time. Wow, am I learning that one. I was so surprised by how great I felt today. I guess a purging of all and every emotion at once can really balance you out somehow. I was really scared by my feelings yesterday. I really wanted to avoid and isolate, to keep everything safe and contained within myself. I almost told my boyfriend not to come last night. But luckily, I relented. He was such an amazing support. No judgements, no criticisms. He just listened, smoothed my hair, and let me vent and cry. Before he left he made me promise one thing: that I would tell at least one person here tonight how I was feeling. He knew, from experience, that if I kept it festered inside, there was a good chance that I might really talk myself into leaving. I didn't want to, but I promised him. As soon as he left, I went outside for a smoke and told the first two women who sat down. I shared my feeling and fears and cravings and asked them if they could keep a "Souza Watch" that night. They agreed in a second, hugged me, told me how proud of me they were for reaching out for help. It even gave one girl hope because she had been feeling the same way. It was then that I knew I couldn't leave, that I didn't even want to. I still have so much to learn and there will be more bad days, I know, but now I'm confident that I can get through them.
One day at a time. Wow, am I learning that one. I was so surprised by how great I felt today. I guess a purging of all and every emotion at once can really balance you out somehow. I was really scared by my feelings yesterday. I really wanted to avoid and isolate, to keep everything safe and contained within myself. I almost told my boyfriend not to come last night. But luckily, I relented. He was such an amazing support. No judgements, no criticisms. He just listened, smoothed my hair, and let me vent and cry. Before he left he made me promise one thing: that I would tell at least one person here tonight how I was feeling. He knew, from experience, that if I kept it festered inside, there was a good chance that I might really talk myself into leaving. I didn't want to, but I promised him. As soon as he left, I went outside for a smoke and told the first two women who sat down. I shared my feeling and fears and cravings and asked them if they could keep a "Souza Watch" that night. They agreed in a second, hugged me, told me how proud of me they were for reaching out for help. It even gave one girl hope because she had been feeling the same way. It was then that I knew I couldn't leave, that I didn't even want to. I still have so much to learn and there will be more bad days, I know, but now I'm confident that I can get through them.
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