I've spent my whole life wishing

That I were prettier, smarter, funnier, more confident, more successful, more outgoing, shorter, thinner, that my hair was thicker, my torso longer, my legs shorter, my feet smaller, that I did better in school than I did, that I could sing, that I had some kind of talent, that I had never stopped playing the piano, that I had different parents, a different extended family, a different child hood, a different life, different memories, that I wasn't negative and pessimistic, that I didn't have anxiety, that I was married by a certain age, that I had had children by a certain age, that I had children at all, that I had a fairy tale wedding, that I had had something other than a completely dysfunctional relationship with every man I've ever dated, that I wasn't afraid to dance in public, that I wasn't so afraid of what you think of me, that some guy would want to be with me, that I hadn't been so afraid to be alone that I was willing to do anything to keep you, that I didn't hate myself, that I had self respect, that I wasn't afraid to tell the truth, that I hadn't made half the choices that I made, or dated any of the people I had dated, that I could take things back, that I could have been a better friend, a better person, and less selfish, that I hadn't tried so hard to make people like me that I lost myself, that I wasn't afraid to be myself, that I hadn't had breast cancer, that I didn't feel like I was always about to be found out or like the rug was about to be pulled out from under me, that I wasn't afraid to cry in front of people or admit that something is painful, that just once, my mother had shown up for me, that she wasn't an alcoholic, that I could tell my father the truth about being in AA, that I could stop pretending to be things that I'm not, and quit pretending not to be things that I am, that I could just be. All I ever really wanted, was to just be someone else.

In retrospect

Everything we learn, I think we learn retrospectively. We live forward, but we learn backwards. Rarely, if ever, in the midst of something, do I appreciate, or even contemplate the point, or the purpose, or the real "why" that underlies it. I never know those things until later, because time changes everything. Then again it might be that what you thought in the moment is as accurate as what you think about it later - both are accurate, they just aren't the same.

I mention it only because I left a comment on another blog the other day - that I immediately felt bad about. I said that I had married my boyfriend because I thought no guy would ever want me again after having breast cancer. That is the truth. That is an accurate assessment of what happened in those weeks after I was diagnosed. But I didn't know that at the time - I didn't mean to sound like I had plotted that out - I didn't. I don't think in the midst of it I was even able to appreciate what was happening. We just did what we did because the circumstances were what they were - and the reason why was something altogether different than it appears to be now. What I thought in those weeks, what I believed to be true, what I felt - those are things that I can't even access at this point because all I know is what I know about it now - I see it only through the lens of time. I have had a year and 4 months to contemplate it, dissect it, undo it, reinvent it - that's why I know what I know to be the truth.

I felt bad about it though - I felt bad about how it sounded. I didn't set out with that intention - to settle for someone out of fear and to alter the course of his life. And it was altered - so was mine. I have to realize that he participated willingly and is responsible for his part, that's true, but just how much falls on me, I'm not sure. I wondered - do I apologize for that, even though at the time, I didn't understand that to be the reason? Do I go back and say why I did what I did, even if that wasn't why I thought I was doing it at the time? Maybe it doesn't matter. I think his version of the story is quite unlike mine. And neither is really accurate at all I suppose. What once appeared supportive and loving and caring, now appears sick and manipulative. Which one was it? I don't think he set out with the intention of taking advantage of my financial situation, but by the end, it had started to look that way.

What was the truth at the time - I'm not even sure. Did I love him? Probably not - but I didn't know it at the time. Does that make what I felt in the moment less real, or more wrong? I can't tell you what I actually thought because I don't know anymore. Like I said, I can't really access anything about those weeks - it is all colored by a different perspective. Sobriety has changed my perception of everything. Nothing looks the same as it used to. I struggle sometimes with that - what is true or not true about the past - how accurate is my memory - how clear is my perception. I used to worry that I remember things incorrectly - like my childhood - was it more or less bad than I remember it, or just exactly the same? When my understanding of it changes - what it was changes also. Time changes the character of everything.

The great obsession of every abnormal drinker

I thought about drinking a couple of days ago (I may post later about why, etc.), hence I have selected a few things from the Big Book that I was reading just now on Step 1, we admitted we were powerless over alcohol, that our lives had become unmanageable. Today, even more so than most days, I am incredibly grateful to still be sober. If ever I question whether or not I might actually be an alcoholic (which is where my head has been the past few days), all I have to do is read the Big Book. I related to these words the first time I read them. There was great fear involved in this initial read of the Big Book, but now there is comfort - because I am reminded every time I pick up this book, that there is a solution.

"The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death.

We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed.

We alcoholics are men and women who have lost the ability to control our drinking. We know that no real alcoholic ever recovers control. All of us felt at times that we were regaining control, but such intervals - usually brief - were inevitably followed by still less control, which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization....Over any considerable period we get worse, never better." Page 30

"Despite all we can say, many who are real alcoholics are not going to believe they are in that class. By every form of self-deception and experimentation, they will try to prove themselves exceptions to the rule, therefore nonalcoholic." Page 31

"Most of us have believed that if we remained sober for a long stretch, we could thereafter drink normally...We have seen the truth demonstrated again and again: "Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic." Commencing to drink after a period of sobriety, we are in a short time as bad as ever. If we are planning to stop drinking, there must be no reservation of any kind, nor any lurking notion that someday we will be immune to alcohol." Page 33

"To be gravely affected, one does not necessarily have to drink a long time nor take the quantities some of us have. This is particularly true of women. Potential female alcoholics often turn into the real thing and are gone beyond recall in a few years. Certain drinkers, who would be greatly insulted if called alcoholics, are astonished at their inability to stop." Page 33

There was a tremendous urge to cease forever. Yet we found it impossible. This is the baffling feature of alcoholism as we know it - this utter inability to leave it alone, no matter how great the necessity or the wish." Page 34

And finally, "If, when you honestly want to, you find you cannot quit entirely, or if when drinking, you have little control over the amount you take, you are probably alcoholic." Page 44

Most days, I feel like staying sober is the easy part - life is the hard part. Drinking hasn't crossed my mind since last October probably. Then every once and a while I am humbly reminded about this part of the disease. I found myself beating myself up for thinking about it, for obsessing over it. I found myself questioning myself these past few days - am I really an alcoholic, am I really sure? I remember when I first came into the program and my friend who brought me there finally pointed out that only alcoholics sit around questioning whether they might be alcoholics. My sponsor says I don't need to figure out why I have been thinking this way. The answer is simple. It is because I am an alcoholic. I should just be grateful that on most days, I live free of the desire and the compulsion and I should consider it a miracle that these moments are few and far between for me.

The lie, that I wish the truth could be

What are you thinking about? Everything and nothing. Mostly everything. Sometimes I dump my head out, that's what I call it, in an email to a friend before I go to bed. I think I'll dump it here. I am thinking about him, unfortunately. And whether to shut the phone off. Wondering whether I am going to be able to sleep. Worried about the busy two days of work ahead before my two weeks out of the country.

I forget sometimes that people I know read this. The point was to be able to be open and honest, but I do wonder sometimes what certain of you think of me. I wonder sometimes if ever I sensor myself. Am I really as honest as I want to be? Do I really say it like it is? I lost some friends when I decided to get sober - more than a few. And certain people judged me for it. I struggle always between telling the truth, and telling the lie that is what I wish the truth could be. Telling the lie that I think will make you like me, will make you want me, will make you want to be friends with me. Sticking my toe in the water of "relationships" has made me painfully aware, in the matter of a few weeks, just how much I wish the truth were something other than it is. For a brief 5 minutes, I might have actually felt like I wouldn't trade my story in for something better - like I don't still wish to be someone else.

But the truth is - I would trade in all those ruined holidays and birthdays, all the days my mother passed out by 5 pm, all the times she told me she hated me, all of the bad relationships I've had, the low self-esteem, the abusive relationship, the fear-based decision making, the anxiety, my so called "marriage," my fake relationship with my father, getting sober, surviving breast cancer, my success, my education, my strength, my independence, my resilience. I would trade these things in for another story, if I could. Because I feel like a fraud anyway.

I forget sometimes that my father's family, could, with just a click of a button, find out the truth about me by clicking on the link on my brother's blog. My father doesn't know that I'm an alcoholic or that I am sober - there are 70 some posts of information that he doesn't know. When I think about my father, sad is the first word that comes to mind. The thing that bothered me the most about going home for my 30th birthday, was not the fact that my dad completely forgot it, but the fact that he doesn't know me. Sitting across from him at breakfast was like sitting across from a stranger. I think he likes to tell himself that we are okay, that we are successful and happy and functional people because that is the only thing that makes it bearable. My father has to believe that we are okay because it would devastate him to think otherwise.

So I lie to my father because I don't want him to feel bad. I lie to most everyone else because I don't want to feel bad, or ashamed. People always say that we (AA people) lie when it is just as easy to tell the truth. Sometimes, it is easier to lie.

10 Minutes, 12 Dollars and a Bunch of Random Thoughts Later

I got my first haircut today. I say first haircut because it is the first time I have cut my hair since it all fell out and grew back in. I just had about an inch and a half cut off the bottom of the back - I'm debating growing it back to long - but in any event, the top has to catch up to the bottom and it was looking a little too mullet like. It took 10 minutes and cost me 12 dollars. Gone are the days of spending 2.5 hours and 150 dollars every 7 weeks in a hair salon. I used to love to color my hair, it made me feel like I could wake up and reinvent myself. I could just look different, be different - I used to color it differently every time. Blond highlights, red ones, back to dark brown, carmel color highlights, low lights. Always different. The ever present feeling that I was somehow escaping. For now, I am sticking to my natural hair color and waiting for it to grow - but if only it were as simple as changing your hair color.

I've been posting a lot more lately, though sorry it isn't interesting. I am sure you love reading about the options when it comes to peeing and my really poor body image. It's just that my other avenues, or outlets are disintegrating one by one, and at the very least, I can dump my head out here. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I don't really get feedback - but there is comfort in knowing that I am less alone than I used to be, or than I would be if I keep it to myself. Some of my friendships are dissolving - important ones - and in some ways I feel like I am standing on the sidelines watching, powerless to stop it. And in other ways I feel myself distancing myself from certain other people, out of necessity, coupled with fear. The fear goes both ways - when it comes to sticking around or running away, either choice is based upon fear.

My sponsor says I have to start talking more - talking at every meeting. Meetings are great but what good is all this junk swirling around in my mind? I leave a meeting and I'm still stuck with myself and what goes on in my own head if I don't ever let anyone else in there. I always feel better when I share, but I am so damn scared to. Do I make sense, do I sound stupid? Are they judging me? Am I one of those people, who when they raise their hand, you cringe and roll your eyes at your friend sitting across the room - this little silent communication about the other people who are sharing. Don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. We all do it when certain people share. I don't know - I feel overly self conscious lately. Self centered fear. My sponsor says I have to step my program up and get out of myself and my own head. I'm tired of myself, frankly. I am going to take her suggestions - because I've never been steered wrong and I am tired of feeling the way I've been feeling. My options are limited, the way I see it, so I'm going to do what she tells me to do because I trust her that it will work.

So I have this weirdness about me when it comes to opening up to people - I'm either in, or out. I divulge a lot or very little, but emotionally, I am cut off either way - I don't invest myself very easily. It takes some time - to really let someone in. I get close - seemingly, but it is on the surface, and never so close that I can't cut and run when it becomes too scary or feels too threatening. I have always struggled with letting people get to know me - first of all because I assume I am unlikeable, and second of all, I have this overpowering fear of abandonment - and it wins, nearly every time.

If you don't know me, you can't abandon me and I'll make sure to abandon you, before you have the chance anyway. I don't want to need you or miss you or want you around, because I won't know what to do when you turn around and leave me standing here. Yet I can't let you go either. There is this push and pull. This friend asked for my blog link and to be honest, the thought of giving it to him made me nervous after I had a minute to think about it. I've tried to be honest writing here, more so than I am in person with people (and discovering that it is actually easier to open up than I thought). But what happens when you give all your secrets away to someone else, and they leave with them? Because the thing is - part of me feels like - if I am going to give you a window into my world and even let you peer in here, you damn well better not break through the window, take a couple of things, and leave. I feel like that has happened recently.

Let's Get Honest about Body Image, Self Esteem and the Food I Eat

First off, it feels a little weird to talk about this - because this, that I am about to talk about - is my fundamental problem, I believe anyway. Second, where do I begin? Third, some of you don't know some of this.

This is all stemming from my recent reflections pending my 30th birthday, and the fact that I have watched too many episodes of TLC's What Not to Wear with Stacey and Clinton - a great show (I've learned a lot), but it is prompting me to shop. It's made me want to change my wardrobe, dress differently, present myself differently...am I hiding, am I trying to change the outside because changing the inside isn't working, or am I changing the outside to match the inside, or am I just trying to be someone I'm not, either to get you to like me, or because I don't like myself, or both, or is it something entirely different? I'm not sure. But I have learned a lot about shopping for clothes - to buy more color and pattern, to better accessorise - shoes are important, to buy more versatile pieces that can be good for work and evening, to buy things that fit your body shape well, and most importantly, that you can look outstanding no matter what your body type is like - it's all a matter of how the clothes fit.

My body image, it's bad. My self esteem - only slightly better. Ask anyone who knows me and they would say that I am very thin - maybe too thin, but if you ask me, I will tell you that I am 5-10 pounds too heavy - I just hide it well. I don't think I know a single woman who doesn't have a messed up body image. Every woman I know would tell you, unequivocally, that her body image, if not entirely poor, is certainly skewed. How do I see something completely different than what you see? Where does it stem from - I don't know? T.v., magazines, parents maybe, men, a combination - feelings of not being good enough, not being pretty enough, not being desirable enough. Where did I ever get the idea that a man is only going to want me for my body?

My mother told me once that even though I am skinny, I am thick at the waist - she told me this when I was pretty young, and I have thought about it on a daily basis ever since - examining myself in the mirror every morning, examining myself from behind before I walk out the door - trying to make sure that the shirt I have on lays just right over my hips/pants that I don't look like I have a bulge at the waistline. Scrutinizing my body - labeling myself negatively, my legs are too long and my torso too short - and that's why I look funny. Someone told me once that my hips were too big - not in proportion to the thinness of my body or my frame, even though I am tall - and I've never forgotten that either.

I don't spend a lot of time exercising, and I always eat - and for the most part, I have just been lucky when it comes to staying thin - and I wouldn't say that I have any kind of eating disorder - although, some would say that the way I approach food is undoubtedly disordered. I approach food like I do alcohol - somewhat obsessively, sometimes controlling. There are times when I eat and I don't think twice about it, and there are other times when I obsess over it - I count the calories, I write them down - trying to make sure I stay below a certain amount per day - calculating and recalculating how many calories I think I need to eat to maintain my current body weight versus lose 1/2 pound per week. Controlling what I eat is sometimes an irrational way to control the anxiety the plagues me. It's the OCD that I have mentioned before. I feel an impending sense of doom, therefore, I can't eat the dessert because something bad will happen if I eat it - my attention turns away from the impending sense of doom and towards food and my body - because this I can control. So I count, I obsess, I go shopping, I eat, I feel bad about it, I keep counting. Sometimes, every month or so, I try on literally everything in my closet to gauge how I am doing - did I lose weight, gain weight - how do they feel, do I look skinny enough?

And all of this is a problem why - I mean, like all things, I seem to manage it well, right? Well, yes and no - I manage it, it doesn't affect me like this on a daily basis, but it does affect me, and I want to be free of it. I am about to turn 30, am single, don't believe that I will find the right man to be with, and have a limited time frame in which to have children (which is important to me), before I unexpectedly lose my fertility earlier than I would have if I had never taken chemo drugs. I am operating on a limited time frame - an unpredictable time frame, and having to consider, at least on some level - what my options for having my own biological children alone might be, how this impacts my career, my chances of finding "him," oh, and the prospect of dying young and leaving my children behind with no parent (I can hear my sponsor's voice in my head saying, yes, but, we don't have to worry about any of this today...).

My self esteem figures into this how - because in a desperate kind of way - I just want to find the right person to be with. All I've ever wanted really, is for someone to want to be with me - because I equate this with whether I am a decent person or not. And my self esteem is poor enough, even still, that I believe that I have to look a certain way in order to find him. There is a part of me that believes that whoever wants to be with me - it will be because of how I look, and not the person that I am. Or it will be because I make a lot of money - or maybe both. It's like I believe that there are good people out there, who love people no matter what etc., it's just none of those people want to be with me. So I have to lose 5 pounds, buy new clothes, wear cuter shoes, carry a nicer purse etc. I have to be someone that I'm not, to make you like me, because you would never just like me. And if I don't find someone to want me, there is something wrong with me.

It is shocking that after going through so much in the past year, that I am sitting here, almost exactly the same. I look outside of myself for validation and self esteem. I care only slightly less what you think of me. The truth is - if we peel off all the layers surrounding my "marriage," the circumstances, AA, moving etc., the fact is this, I married the guy I was dating when I found out I had breast cancer, because I believed that no one else would ever want me again, after going through that - not knowing how it would deform my body. I divorced him, because in the end, I realized I would rather be alone, and struggle with my own self hatred, then be with him.

The fact is - that guy, the one who only really wants to be with me because of how I look and because I have a good job - he isn't the kind of guy I even want to be with at all, he is exactly the guy I don't want to be with - but he's the only one I'm going to attract. Because people always say you attract what you put out there. But what would it look like to suddenly stop caring about what I weigh, or what I eat, or how my clothes look? What I really want now, more than anything, isn't to find him, I simply want to not care if I don't.

Mission Aborted and Other Miscellaneous Things

So - I came home one day early from my work trip. It cost me 180 bucks to get home early - which I probably can't get reimbursed for. Although I will try. But the question is - what is my sanity worth? At least 180 dollars apparently. I just couldn't sit through another dinner. Thursday was no problem. Friday was okay, and I didn't drink - it's just not a comfortable situation to be in. Hour one is fine. Hour two is okay. Hour three, so so. Hour four - it's time to get out of there. For some reason, and I don't know exactly why - even when I am spiritually in a good spot, and not feeling particularly tempted - these situations are exhausting to be in. They exhaust me every time, much to my surprise. I know to those on the other side you just think, so, you just don't drink, but the thing is, it isn't that simple. It's a bit of a balancing act and a line drawing problem when these two worlds collide. This trip is the closest they have ever come to crashing and by worlds I mean my work life and my "real" life. I have to do what is required for my job, yet know where to draw the line - such that my job is not jeopardized in any way, nor is my sanity or my sobriety. This is a delicate balance I found out and I am not so skilled at knowing where to draw the line.

Anyway, on other fronts, this guy asked me to coffee, then told me he had to check with his sponsor and then his sponsor said he shouldn't go. I found this disappointing. This is the only guy I've even had a remote interest in that I have met in the program here, and of course, I don't meet anyone outside of the program and everyone I work with is married. Not having the usual social circle and activities is a bit of a handicap I think. Anyway, this guy has been sober long enough to go to coffee, right (he's been sober longer than me)? It's just coffee for God's sake. Then again, coffee leads to other things, and where does the line get drawn around this one? I mean, what started with coffee in my early sobriety ended in divorce. HA HA HA. Well, I think it's kind of funny.

But I find it disappointing nonetheless. Rather than have his sponsor decide for me that I don't get to decide that I don't like him, I'd like the chance to figure that out on my own. I have to say though - he scores a few points by the mere fact that he listens to his sponsor. I respect the fact that he takes suggestions cause most people don't. Most people, as a way to get out of blatantly not taking a sponsor's suggestions - simply don't always tell the truth. I fall into this category. If there is something I want to do, and I don't want to be told how bad of an idea it is, I just do it without telling anyone. Then I pay the price and sometimes fess up later in what can only be described as a half truth. Did I mention before that this is a program of honesty? HA HA.

In any event, I did have a chance to talk to him after the meeting, so that was good (says who?) - although I have a feeling his sponsor would say standing outside the Alano club after the meeting for 45 minutes is akin to having coffee and therefore goes against his suggestion. Not to mention the fact that his sponsor probably has a reason for making the suggestion and truthfully, I don't really want any of his unresolved crap cluttering up my world. I mean - that right there is a reason to stay out of a relationship anyway. I was telling my brother about this and he said something to the effect of - you've been sober roughly the same amount of time, how much damage could you cause one another...truthfully, probably a lot. I am tired of other people's dysfunction in general. But then again, you are never going to find the perfect person, right? We all have a past, we all have behaviors we hope never to repeat, we've all hurt people. I do try to remember though what someone told me once - if you meet someone, and they tell you they are bad at relationships - believe them.

As I Exist On Paper

I used to write a lot - journals and other stuff. In fact, at one point, when I was really young, I thought I wanted to be a writer. I was always amazed at the way that I could express something on paper that I could never express out loud. I could say the same thing and it would sound completely different. I think I have always had an ability to be honest on paper that I don't have anywhere else. Sometimes I used to be afraid to sit down and write, knowing that the truth would come out there and once you write it down, it's harder to take back. It can become hard to unconvince yourself.

I have written about being tired of hiding, tired of pretending. I have always felt like there are three different versions of me, at least, and I can never quite get them to converge. The way I perceive myself, the way other people perceive me, and the way that I exist on paper. None of these are true - none accurate, except maybe the one on paper - they definitely are not the same. I don't know if most people feel this way. I used to always say that the real me existed only on paper - that I am most me when I write something down and that I could only be myself if hidden in the pages of a notebook. Perhaps why I find writing this blog to be such an interesting exercise. I can be honest because I am not face to face with anyone and you don't know me. It is not unlike hiding.

Anyway, one thing that I like to do from time to time just for fun is look back at stuff I've written on a particular day - this time last year or this time 5 years ago, just to see where I was at or what I was thinking or doing. I did that last night. I looked back at stuff I wrote this time last year, which was right after coming into AA, and I found only one thing in November. It struck me because it describes very much where I am at today even though the underlying cause is very different. So, for a lack of anything better to post about, here it is.

November 18, 2005

The pain is unrelenting and it envelopes her, it coats her, it follows her like a shadow, trailing behind her, distorting her, and it precedes her into every room she walks into. It is the absence of light surrounding her that is the most noticeable and the most memorable.  The fact that she stands out now is only because she has tried so hard to go unnoticed. What used to exist and not exist in her world, what used to be true and not true, correct and incorrect, what used to be and the absence of what used to be - what was love or not love, hate or not hate, the poignant desire in stark contrast to the overwhelming fear - now co-exist entirely and only in varying shades of gray. They are tangled and inseparable. They are no longer the compartmentalized emotions from which she used to choose the seemingly most appropriate based upon her observations of other people. The clear path she used to walk in between them, between what was and what wasn't, is no longer there. It isn't love or not love, it isn't hate or not hate, it isn't this or the opposite, and she is no longer standing in between them - it is far more complicated than this. She relates to the present as if she is still living in the past and she has never been able to separate the two. What exists of her now is what has been left behind and what she has managed to narrowly escape with although the pieces don't fit easily together. She does not recognize herself and the glimmer of recognition in the eyes of other people is lost on her. What is left of who she is and what she has to offer, is laced with shame and regret, and among other things, fear. A Fear that is pervasive and unyielding, except when it gives way to the indescribable anger.

What Am I Doing Here Again?

I was going to write about something completely different – actually, I wasn’t going to write at all. Two posts into this endeavor, I had decided to call it quits – except to my surprise, a couple of people asked me when I was going to post something. It’s like a T.V. show that you don’t necessarily want to watch, but you just keep watching because you have to find out what happens next. There are blogs that I check regularly – okay, obsessively, waiting for that next post.

Anyway, the truth is, something happened between a friend and I just over a week ago that has made me question myself and question what I was going to do on this blog. Actually, it’s made me question just about everyone I know and whether I can really trust anyone with the truth about anything. Why put my feelings and fears out there for everyone to criticize and judge? That isn’t going to help me. Why not just keep it all to myself? The point was to be honest – because I was tired of hiding behind the overwhelming shame that has kept me quiet for so long. Yet at the same time, I guess I would rather hide than be judged or criticized. I would rather not lose friends in the process of being myself - but then again, if people can't accept me, I guess they were not my friends anyway.

My mind wasn’t even really on the risk of judgment that goes along with truth telling and putting yourself out there. I just wanted to be honest, blind I guess to the consequences. A “good friend” of mine made some terrible and unfounded judgments about my husband last weekend, which were indirectly judgments of myself, and this has resulted in the end of our friendship. I decided after that I was probably better off continuing to be myself, while at the same time pretending not to be. It’s worked so far I guess – so, so much for this blog.

For completely different reasons, I am tired of peoples’ reactions to me in general so I guess I am not sure what I am doing here at all really. I can’t be picky though right? I can’t expect people to react to me exactly the way I want them to. I don’t just want to be honest to elicit a specific response and certainly not to elicit any sympathy. I guess I can’t focus on peoples’ reactions at all, or I would entirely miss the point. Nevertheless, I am fed up with peoples’ assumptions and judgments and I don’t really feel like having to justify anything.

I have been through hell in the past four months, and mostly I am tired of the people who say they understand and relate or can imagine. I can tell you for sure that you cannot even begin to imagine, most of you can’t, and almost no one that I know personally. Even if you are one of the people who have observed me over the past year, deal with what I have had to deal with and you claim to have your own experience that parallels mine as you have watched me and gone through certain things with me – you still don’t have what I have, which is my own very personal experience.

You don’t feel what I feel and you don’t think what I think. You don’t know what it is like to get up every day and live with what I live with. I believe now more than ever that until you walk in the shoes of someone else, until you get up every day and live what they live and do what they do, you really aren’t in a position to judge them for anything. Until you are me, and you never will be – how can you question my motives or choices, the things that I feel and the ways that I deal with things? You can’t.

This Too Shall Pass

My brother seems to know a lot of people who are doing this, writing blogs I mean, so I thought I might give it a whirl. Of course, like any overly self-conscious person, I’m afraid I have nothing interesting or intelligent to say and that no one will take the time to read this anyway. Fear of rejection I guess - just like the fear of having a party and no one showing up, so you don’t have the party, and you will never find out whether anyone would have come. I’ve actually never tested this out. I’ve never thrown a party at my own house. Besides the unnecessary stress over what to title this blog, I seem to have a lot of anxiety about what to write about. I don’t live in a foreign country or have a new family to write about, my job is not particularly interesting to anyone else and I have no real hobbies to speak of at the moment – something I am trying to remedy. I’m basically a corporate lawyer at a really large firm in a big Midwestern city – which is not really inspiring me here.

Unfortunately, the biggest things in my life – the two most life changing things that have ever happened to me, both in one year – are the two things that I’ve tried the hardest to keep secret. I am nine months into the best and the worst year of my entire life and unsure whether to write about it or where to begin, although I am quite sure that these are the things that now define me, and these are the things that will shape me going forward. I live every day in fear of people finding these two secrets out, and I am beginning to feel like my life is not authentic because I can’t seem to just be honest about who I am.

The title of this blog and this initial post is one of my favorite slogans from twelve-step programs although I hear these slogans elsewhere from time to time. If I had to capture everything about my life right at this moment in a single phrase, it is summed up in this slogan. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, reminding myself that the good and the bad and everything in between is momentary. I was sick a couple of weeks ago and I spent most of the time lying in bed and wondering if I would ever feel better, if I would ever feel the way I used to and dwelling on the thought that the moment I was caught up in was permanent – a permanent state of feeling bad, a permanent circumstance that I could not live with.

I’ve learned a lot in the past nine months that I am not even sure how to put into words - like I said – I don’t even know where to begin – in fact, I’m starting to wonder if this blog won’t be nothing but an account of life lessons I probably should have learned (like everyone else did) but somehow missed. Anyway, the temporary nature of things is what has been plaguing my mind lately. People say, if you don’t like something, just wait a few minutes and it will change. Even those circumstances in life that have turned out to be permanent – and there really aren’t many of them – the way I feel about them always changes. What seems to trouble me right now about knowing that everything is temporary, is accepting that the good stuff is temporary also, and that I’ve been so caught up in everything except the good stuff, that I have missed out on moments that are irreplaceable. Why is it that the things we most want to be over seem to last forever and the things we want to savor pass us by in a second?

So, I guess I am just going to be honest. I am going to write about myself here, the secrets I’ve been keeping, my experiences as of late and my struggle to live through them and learn from them, while I try to savor them, appreciate them, and also let go of them.