Broken-hearted.

Most of the time after I talk to my children, I am happy and encouraged. Not so tonight. My conversation with my baby girl seemed to punctuate every failure that I’ve tried desperately to reconcile in my heart.

Her life hasn’t been easy over the past 5 years and continues to this day. A lot of that has come from me. The financial stress, the loss of the family unit, the devastation having an alcoholic mother can cause. The “if only” and “what if” self-castigation has begun and is giving way to self-loathing.

I’m angry. Angry at myself. Angry at my wasbeen. And angry at this disease.

I want to shove it down and ignore it.

I want to make it right.

I can’t. And I can’t.

I feel like crap right now. My thoughts are scattered. I can’t think. The only thought I can put my finger on is that as bad as I feel right now, it isn’t enough.

I can’t change what happened. I can’t take away the pain. And I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my children’s lives.

I miss them terribly. And I just don’t see how this will ever change. Not that I deserve anything better.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Stuck

Wow! It’s been a while since I’ve felt this stuck. I have absolutely no desire to do anything.

This is the second Wednesday in a row that I have missed my favorite meeting. Missed? MISSED?? Uh, no. I made a decision to NOT GO. I have the every other month commitment of secretary. This is my month “off” and in true alcoholic fashion, if I don’t have to be there, the slightest excuse can get me to stay home. Never mind that this is the first meeting where I felt safe. It was the first place where I shared openly and honestly without fear of judgment. Oddly enough, it is not the women’s meeting at the recovery home I lived and worked in for 10 and 4 months, respectively. This is a gay men’s meeting.

These wonderful men have loved me, unconditionally, since the day we met. You know, I was thinking yesterday when the treasurer of this meeting called me pretty…he meant it. I laughed at first, but then I realized that he doesn’t see the outside me. He sees the inside me. It took me a long time to realize that what I love about this meeting is that I don’t have to dress pretty, put on make-up, try to lose a tremendous amount of extra weight, or become someone I’m not to be loved and valued. I get to just be me. It's like I have this gay entourage who have adopted me for the sole purpose of teaching me that I am worthy of nothing but the best. It is a wonderful thing to not worry about committing a faux pas of one variety or other and to be able to concentrate on my sobriety. In every other area of my life, though, I feel as if I am lacking—somehow less than.

Though I am accepted fully, I am starting to feel as if I do not belong here. And I know the longer I stay away, the more difficult time I will have convincing myself to go back. And we know what follows. So, what is the real problem here?

I’m being selfish, self-centered, and self-pitying. I’m having a tough time and I just want to feel miserable. It’s easier than doing the work. I know what I need to do. I am just not willing. I suppose when the pain of holding on to this becomes greater than the pain of letting go, I’ll do the work. Until then…

I don’t know.

Thank you for paying me a 12 step call.