September 22, 2007
Traveling by ocean looking for land…
Writing through hard times isn’t easy. Writing through times like this (recovery) is nearly paralyzing… What makes it particularly so (aside from the usual list of who occasionally reads this, what they’ll think of me), is that by putting it down on this screen, I’m admitting it publicly to an extent that prevents going back. To the hidden way… the other darker (but let’s face it, muuuuuch easier) way of being. And since I’m very early in this journey, I’ll happily admit that the other way? Of blocking things out, shutting bad things away for consideration at another time, is much more fun than sitting in a quiet room, shaking, facing up to the way things are right now. Here and now.
I’ve found a place to go every day to talk about my problem with drinking. To listen to others talk about their struggles and fears and recovery. And it is a complete and total miracle. If I’d known how great these meetings would be, I honestly would have stopped all this wine nonsense a long time ago.
But of course I wouldn’t really. Because outside of those wonderful comforting loving meetings, life is once again scary as hell. And this time I’m standing there without my favored weapon. Facing an army of tigers with a pea shooter and one bean, which is how we’re supposed to feel at the beginning (I’m told).
And I feel like the outside layer of my skin (the adult, fake-put-together part) has been taken away and I’m this sea creature –shell-less and shaky–lolling around waiting for sunlight to reach all the long way down to the ocean floor.
At the same time, the grace and gratitude I’m experiencing through motherhood, honestly would have made me roll my eyes and scoff a short 12 months ago. Who knew that cooking dinner for them each night was going to become such a valued ritual that I cling to it and watch the clock just waiting until I can start to prepare their food…
What is here and now for me is this:
- I’m 39
- I have three beautiful daughters
- It is a gorgeous Fall late afternoon in a small town in NW Washington State
- I feel hopeful
- I feel terrified
If I could be any character in fiction or poem, I’d be a woman featured in one of Pablo Neruda’s love poems…
Until that happens, Emily Dickinson will have to do:
I HIDE myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too
And angels know the rest.
I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.
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My sister did inpatient treatment and is now swaddled tightly in the blanket of ”intensive outpatient” which translates to 2 hrs a day x 3 times a week PLUS weekend meetings and retreats.
I get ooked out (b/c I am emotionally a very shallow bucket, apparently) by the immediacy of the intimacy forged in rehab and hours of meetings in a given week but the end result is: It’s working for her. Keep going to the meetings, keep holding on by the skin of your teeth and know, please, that once the white-knuckle breath holding part is over, it will be worth it.
Much much love and good vibes to you and yours, little momma.
September 22nd, 2007 at 8:55 pmI am incredibly proud of you.
September 22nd, 2007 at 9:49 pmYou are brave. And your honesty.
Well, it can move mountains, I think.
September 22nd, 2007 at 10:13 pmAmazingly brave and beautiful.
You are in my prayers and thoughts and every beat of my heart.
September 22nd, 2007 at 10:47 pmWhat do I do to help?
September 22nd, 2007 at 11:46 pmI wish I could be there on the West coats to give you a hug and a smile and a supportive talk. Even though I’m far on the other coast, I am thinking of you and your courageousness. You are an amazing woman and I know you can make it.
September 22nd, 2007 at 11:54 pmthinking of you
September 23rd, 2007 at 10:13 amI am so proud of you.
September 23rd, 2007 at 6:42 pmThe hardest breath is the one you hold while denying something is wrong. Once you let it out, and move past the void in your chest, you realize it fills with good things, replacing the terror and fear you once held there.
It will get better.
September 23rd, 2007 at 9:54 pmI would be much happier if I had something tangible to offer you.
Keep writing and I’ll keep reading–I’ll be a witness regardless of how difficult it gets. I won’t turn away.
September 23rd, 2007 at 10:20 pmBe strong, R. Hang in.
September 24th, 2007 at 8:17 pmI think you’ll find great peace in knowing that most of us travel by ocean looking for land.
September 24th, 2007 at 9:31 pmYou are so strong to seek support like this.A wonderful and gutsy post.
September 25th, 2007 at 5:25 pmR, You know we love you and that is not going to change.
September 25th, 2007 at 7:12 pmKeeping going! It works if you work it, my friend!
September 25th, 2007 at 11:46 pmYou are amazing and it’s time you really knew that. You’re amazing! And, I’ll still gladly fit your “perfect friend” list (or whatever your real title for it was), just with a different beverage of choice.
September 26th, 2007 at 11:13 amHugs from the SW.
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