The Berklee School of Music Singer/Songwriter, part 7

*Breathe*

You know you aren't in a good relationship when, the second you get home and away from it, you do a little dance, make a little love to yourself, get down, jump up, heel click, sigh relieved and wax poetic to your room ("Oh, my sweet, sweet room"). Then, you pet your sweet little kitties and say, "I'm free you guys! Freeeee aaaat laaaast!" before singing a montage of Queen's I Want to Break Free, Tom Petty's Free Fallin' and George Michael's Freedom (the choruses, at least). Finally, you sit down at your beloved old desk in your favorite comfy chair with a cup of iced coffee that you thank God isn't expired (because you've been away so long that everthing else in your fridge is) and you do that thing that has never failed you: write.



Watching Californication, writing, watching Breaking Bad, and getting a bit of reinforcement from a couple of concerned third parties have all helped me with my latest monumental turnaround. After swearing off men and starting this blog last November to help me stay on track, I strayed - far - off course...and became engaged. And I completely believed, at the time, that I was doing myself a favor. Not that there's anything wrong with being engaged - if you're mentally/emotionally healthy and find a mentally/emotionally healthy mate, with whom patience, soundness of mind and mutual understanding/love grant you a relationship that enhances both of your individual, stable lives - by all means, unite! But, if you're a total sicko in need of a lot of help, and you latch onto another total sicko in need of even more help and who latches back onto you even harder resulting in the exponential waning of your individuality, self-respect, stability, and sanity, holy shit - peel off before you leeches reduce eachother to unrecognizable, unconscious fragments of your former selves, and get some fucking help, mutha fucka.

Check.

Now, back to the giving of "props":

"Californication" is the bizzomb. I simply can't stop raving about it, as you know. It shows, for me, an all-too-relatable character fucking up his life: Hank Moody (David Duchovny). Hank gets involved with every woman who'll have him instead of spending quality time with his dauther, Becca. But, he is an accomplished writer, making bank off these sexcapades (oh, I wish!). And yet, despite his sexual meanderings and over-indulgence with various mind-altering substances, I clearly see him as a better father than I mother, and, certainly, a better (or at least financially-compensated and well-read) writer. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes and make me question everything in my life (as I'm wont to do anyway, but I appreciate the extra nudge).

I don't know if God really exists - I choose affirmatively, but, I don't know who God really is. But, if "Writing" were God, somehow, I'd thank the hell out of It, because It just saved my little ass once again. Writing has helped me to see everything in black and white - literally (tom-tom high-hat). It's much more difficult to delude myself or play pretend when I can actually see the insanity on the page.

My former situation with my (very soon to be ex-) fiancé is in fact just as bad, if not worse, as anything I've gotten myself into since my (first) marriage. It's a downright dirty mess. I'm finally starting the "outline" for my memoir because I think there's at least one woman out there who's doing the same shit I have and needs to read my story as a reflection, and hopefully it'll give her the motivation to turn her life around (girl power!). But even more importantly, right now, I need it to help me, too; I need to rub my face right deep down into all of that nasty ass laundry of mine (literally, again - tom-tom high hat). I don't want to forget what it smells like, and at the same time, I want to stop living in it. So, memoir, come to my (and others') rescue! (It is exciting - I all ready have outlined up through chapter 9! And this is just the beginning...tee hee.)

Speaking of rescue...Californication isn't the only show that has given me a tinge of leave-his-ass inspiration. It's ironic - I stopped watching TV shows when I left my husband in 2011 except for any time I've had a boyfriend since (because whoever it is gets me to watch them, too...and one of said shows, in turn, inspires me to leave his ass). So far, Jason's had me watch the whole series of The Big Bang Theory, a few seasons of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Californication, and we're all caught up on Hannibal. All enjoyable to me, I can't lie (The Big Bang Theory is what inspired me to propose and accept Jason for his Sheldon-like self, interestingly). But Jason had also been wanting me to see Breaking Bad for the longest time. Yesterday I used the excuse of being too busy to watch it, and I was - I was creating a photobook on Blurb.com for a photography client. But more accurately, the "punk" in me didn't want to see Breaking Bad, at all, because everyone in the whole damn world raves about it.

But I guess if "everybody" agrees on something, maybe that something kinda-sorta has a chance of being true. Jason put on the first episode of Breaking Bad on Netflix, just to spite me, and...shit, I couldn't look away for even a moment! Whatever I was doing completely ceased to exist. I then insisted we watch the next episode, and the next, and the next, until finally I had to ask him to turn it off so I could finish my project and get it to my client at 3 am, and he did. But I had to watch more today. And the first thing I'm going to do when I'm done posting here is, I'm gonna watch it some more. That's right, baby...2 am? Psh - I had iced coffee.

But, so how did Breaking Bad change my life, you might ask? Well, it prompted me to ask of myself, what would I do if I was told I only had a few months to live? Would I be living my life the way I am now? The answer to the first question is a hell of a lot more complicated than the answer to the second, which is an easy Hell No!!!

Watching Breaking Bad, and, reading real people's experiences with cancer, makes one, naturally, consider her own mortality. I also thought about death a lot when my friend Margo killed herself last year. And who do you think the first person who comes to my mind when I think of death is?

One of the last things my son said to me this past weekend was, "Mom, Daddy loves me more than you do, because he takes more responsibility for me." Yikes. I have to admit, I've been so caught up in my latest addictive relationship that I hardly noticed the impact it was having on my son as usual. It sucks - I was the one who had it all together when his dad and I were still together, but now, I'm the fuck-up. The truth hurts when it looks you in the eyes with tears in its and says you don't love it. You're too busy looking away.

Well, along with my son's truth, here's some more truth from which I couldn't look away:

And that's not even half of it. Not even a quarter. When I had said that Jason was "cleaning his room" obsessively, in one of my last posts, it's because he was throwing piles of crap onto his bed and floor, bringing crap in from outside of his room to add to the piles. His internal chaos was externalized. Ceasing to see his psychiatrist and going off his 8+ medications for his bipolar, OCD, anxiety, and sleep disorders and just smoking weed as a replacement made for a horrible thing to witness.

I knew from the beginning that he was "crazy". He told me so. But did I really believe him, or understand what he meant? Not really. I thought, "Well hey, I'm crazy - great, two peas in a pod." No - he's a different kind of crazy. Diagnosed. My therapist thought I might have a general anxiety disorder, but other than that, I (at the time, at least seemed to) have a pretty sane head on my shoulders. Jason, though...I saw many signs of instability - 25, living with his parents, everything in his room had to be in its own little place (and I mean everything - until the psychotic break), only part-time temp jobs, and a giant drawer full of prescription bottles, some that he no longer even needed but kept around "just in case". Then he decided, "You know what? My psychiatrist is expensive. I'm not going to see him any more. And I'm not gonna take my meds any more either. Yeah, I'm just gonna smoke weed. That makes me feel pretty good." But his version of feeling good included staying up for a week with only short naps; snapping at his parents, brother, sister, and me and saying such horrible things that made everyone either cry, scream or run out of the house; speaking so erratically and quickly that at times nobody could understand him; stretching for two days straight (that was weird); and prompting his mother and I to want to call 9-1-1 and be taken by ambulance to Aurora, a mental hospital where she put him a few years ago (but he appeared to stabilize the other day, so, we didn't have to...but I fled, and his mom is still on edge).

Despite knowing his history, I still decided to go into a relationship with him. And not just any relationship - 5 months in, I asked him to marry me. Why? I don't know. I guess, once again, I got caught up in my most averse addiction: Jason "loves" me.  "Love" = my Achilles' heel. At least, it was my Achilles' heel, until I cut my heel on the sharp razor blade of reality (yes, there were a couple razor blades in those piles...but no, I only stuck myself with a thumbtack...there were like 70 of those). Part of me still feels like I should stay with him, that I do love him. But, his insanity drove me insane, and I'm all ready insane enough as it is without him making it worse. And I've done the research on love (thank you don Miguel Ruiz), and I know what it's supposed to look and feel like. So I told him today before I left: "If you really do love me, you'll let me go." It sounds cliché on the radio, but I meant it. And...finally...he did.

Okay, I just gotta do this again:

*Breathe*

Ah, better. Never before this very moment have I so appreciated solitude. God, don't ever let me forget it this time.

This morning, again inspired by my favorite writing prof, I sketched a rough draft of my memoir cover. (And Rocco, don't worry, if they ever make my memoir into a movie starring Elisha Cuthbert, I won't let them put her on the cover, no matter how much they want to pay me...or wait...shit...let me sit on that.) Ugh, I'm a horrendous artist. But, I woke up with this morning with this image in my head, and I just had to get it on paper, however poorly rendered. In case you can't tell what it is, it's a bride falling away from her husband and child off a precipice into a throng of men (I only drew 16, but there should be 30):

I'll do much better on it next time, lol. And I don't know why all the guys are wearing Heisenberg hats. But that reminds me - time for more Breaking Bad.

The Berklee School of Music Singer/Songwriter, part 6

"Aspiring memoirist" doesn't do a damn bit of good without any actual effort on my part. And I don't have a job right now, so what the hell am I doing? I've been scattered. Trying to start a business doing way too many things. Performing, voice lessons, tutoring, photography, editing/proofreading, publicity...and not making a cent yet.

I was just laying here on my fiancé's bed in his bedroom at his parents' house while he plays Ben Folds on his keyboard, and tears came to my eyes. "This is what I've come to...I don't recognize my life any more."

The life I recognized was with my dysfunctional family growing up, and my fervent educational pursuits as my escape. Then I recognized being in love with an alcoholic, who made me laugh and kept me up all night long, telling me stories, but with whom I also fought belligerently. Then, I recognized being a mother. All that other crap that came before...blech. But that last thing...that was what life was worth living for.

I wasn't a bad one, either. I use to take my son out every day to mommy-and-me classes, the ones where you sit around a circle with a bunch of other mothers (and a few fathers) with their babies and toddlers to sing songs for half an hour until you took your kid(s) out to the playground for a couple more hours. Those were the days of glory, where in my memory the sun shines bright like the mythical gate of some holy place and bounces off the glittering sand that I would scoop into buckets for my little guy to pour out all over the toys in the sandbox. Real-life toddler heaven, it was. Of course, home was hell. But, as they say...better the Devil you know. (Not really...I'm not being sarcastic or cynical at all in this post.)

These days, my son is four - five in August - and I only see him on weekends, sometimes only every other weekend. Any time his dad asks if he can keep him again "this" weekend, I act like I'm hurt, or sad, or pissed, or I react in some way that hides the fact that deep down I'm relieved as hell to be left to my own selfish, albeit failing pursuits. When I do get my son - when I'm not offered an "out" - I try my best to act like a mother for a couple of days until I "get" to drop him back off with the guy I never thought would be a fitter parent than I. But so it is.

So, yeah. I don't recognize my life. Somehow I'm actually worse a mother than my own was. She didn't pay much attention to us, but she was there, physically. Behind a closed door most of the time, but she was just a knock away.

No, what I've become is my father. Like his, my dedication is to an other on whom I place monumental significance, an other who isn't the parent of my child but who satisfies my need for "love" in a way only a "significant other" can. And I don't have to do all that much to take care of him, except be with him...all the time.

I stood by him during his pyschotic break last week after he'd decided to stop taking all his bipolar/anxiety/OCD/sleep/etc. meds (that's what all the stretching was, a couple posts ago, a precursor to absolute unrecognizable madness that I can't even begin to describe at the moment). Sure, he "loves" me more than anyone has since my husband, #1, and #20 (the other two boyfriends who at least said they loved me). But, I remember when I left my husband, and, when it didn't work with #1, I "knew" that "love just doesn't conquer all" (and that's why I settled with #20 for awhile, because I didn't love him, at all - but my son did, and that's the only reason it lasted as long as it did, until I just couldn't do it any more).

I'm not sure why I've put myself in this position again. I put "loves" in quotations marks, knowing full well that the true word that belongs in its place is "needs". I'm with someone who would completely lose it if I left him. (Hey, that's a song..."As long as he needs me...I know where I must be...I'll hang on steadfastly...as long as he needs me." It's from the musical Oliver! and so says Wikipedia, "It is a love ballad expressing Nancy's love for her criminal boyfriend Bill Sikes, despite his mistreatment of her.")

As a matter of fact, Jason's mental breakdown came on the heels of me packing up because I wanted to go home, just for a night or two, to get away from his all-night manic cleaning episodes. There was shit all over his room, and he was up day and night bringing more shit into it from all over the house, obsessively. Yes, it was part of his disorder gone haywire, and somewhat beyond his control (although, did I mention he's decided to stop seeing his psychiatrist, and just smoke weed from now on?). A good fiancée would stand by her man in his time of need, I guess. But not I. I had tried to get away at least three other times over the course of the week, but he begged me to stay each time. So I did, reluctantly. And so here I still am...miserable.

I just want to get back to my life. I want to open my mail. I want to clean my own room. I want to take care of my cats, instead of just buying bags of catfood and dropping them off for my aunt, with whom I (used to) live. Not only that, I want to pet my cats. And I want to have space, alone time. I want to write my memoir. This blog is just a gathering of ideas. I want to write the real thing. This isn't it. This blog is like a little girl's diary, really. It's just...there's been so much wreckage in the present that it's been hard to just write about the wreckage of the past. It started with Margaret's suicide. Then I dated again - damnit - and that's the irony - this blog was supposed to prevent me from creating any more present wreckage. At least, that was the idea, if you go back and read my first post. I keep acting like getting engaged to be married is the ultimate redemption. I find Jesus, get baptized, start dating a guy in church, have a slip and kiss someone else, so ooh, I know, I'll ask the guy I'm dating to marry me, that'll fix everything - game, set, match!

It's all wrong. I feel like a prisoner. Getting engaged to someone just so he'll "know" you aren't going to leave him and he'll therefore hopefully "let" you leave his house, without freaking the fuck out, is clearly - how shall I put it? - fucking dumb.

I should have been writing throughout the course of our relationship so I could have gotten honest with myself. I was on a roll before this one. I over-analyzed the shit out of the last guy I dated (#29).

(And sorry, I just have to take a moment to laugh about Jesus being #28. A lot of good that did me, lol.)

(Oh! PS, #29 just got married, actually. I saw it on facebook. I wouldn't have been happy with that one, either, so I'm glad it was someone else and not me.)

"Love" - I've made such a joke of the word that I can't even take it seriously any more. And yet I say "I love you so much" every day to...what's the fake name I assigned #30? Oh, Jason, I think. But when I say "I love you" to him, what I mean is, "I don't want you to freak out if I don't say it back, so I'm going to say it back and act like I believe it, so that maybe you believe it, too."

But then...when I'm away from him - when I do GET to go home - first, I feel utter bliss. But then I feel so alone that I can hardly bear it. Even with my son with me at my house, I feel empty. Like something's missing.

I guess that's that "need" again. It's apropos to say that Jason and I "need" each other.

But my son needs me, too, and that one doesn't belong in quotation marks. I'm sorry, but I need to get my shit together. Watching Californication has changed my life. I just finished Season 3. Hank Moody is a better father than I am mother, a better writer than I, too, and, he fucks a shitload of women...which makes me not feel so bad. But it's not cool what he does, and he's has frequent downfalls. His daughter is currently pissed at him, in the episodes I'm watching, for sleeping with her 16 year-old almost-step-sister. But he didn't know she was 16, and he's got a good lawyer that he's fucking, so it'll probably all turn out fine (sarcasm).

Any way, Hank is a fictional construct. But...watching him fuck so many women and and still pick his daughter up from school and out for ice cream makes me feel like a total shitbag. I haven't even fucked that many guys - many of the guys on my list, atleast #20 and forward, are guys with whom I was legitimately trying to get into the relationship to end all relationships.

But it's still fucking lame, putting relationships with men above being a mother to my now four-and-a-half year old boy. This past weekend my son told Jason he hated him, and told me that Daddy loves him more than I do, because Daddy takes more responsibility for him. Those were pretty much his exact words. I hate to say that the kid is right. After four rehabs, his dad is finally doing really well. I'm the fuck-up now. I'm sober, sure, but that hardly means shit any more. I'm not going to go drink or use, because that would make this whole thing so much worse, and there's no need for that. But I wish I could. And why wouldn't he hate Jason? I give Jason way more attention than I give to my son. Goddamnit.

I'm still holding onto the hope that I can get my act together. I started the outline for my memoir. I still don't know if I should write it as a novel, or, "truly". I feel like I'd be completely damning myself in every circle of which I am a part if I write it as a true story. But maybe that's what I deserve.

But I'm not thinking of that yet. What I'm doing now is, I'm just writing facts. I'm writing a summary of things I've done and putting them into little chapters to be expanded upon later. Not how I felt, or what I thought. (For the record, I know that's a sentence fragment, I just don't care. And know that's a comma splice. Again, I don't care.)

In my outline, there are no motives. No self-justifications or rationalizations or painting pictures of people that make me look like the victim (because I'm pretty sure I've done a shitload of that). There's no answer to "why". What is, just is.

Jason was saying, as we were watching the show together, "Poor Hank. He just gets shit on, all the time."

"No. I don't agree with that," I said. "He does it to himself. He can't just fuck everything that has a vagina and a pulse and not expect his daughter and her mom to just be cool with it. It's not about him, in the end. It's about them."

"No, it is about him," Jason argued. Jason doesn't know how much I identify with Hank. I was crying today at Albertson's and Jason asked me what was wrong. "If I told you, it would probably end our relationship."

"I'll never stop loving you, sweetheart. Nothing's that bad," he said.

I still couldn't tell him. I couldn't say, "Do you know you're number 29 (not counting Jesus) in a long line of guys I've been with in some capacity since I left my husband? Do you know I don't even truly know if I love you or if I'm just with you to numb my pain? I don't even know if I'm capable of loving anything. I don't even love myself."

Cheating on him and breaking up with him in the beginning didn't work. So I'm not going there again. But I'm in fucking deep, here. We go to the same church; the pastor announced our engagement to the whole congregation a few weeks ago, at both the 9 am and 10:45 am services.

So now what?

"I believe in you, baby," he just said to me. He knows I'm writing, but he doesn't really know what about. I did tell him I'm writing my memoir. I told him earlier, at Albertson's, that he may not love me so much when I'm done.

The truth will set you free, they say. We'll see.

The Berklee School of Music Singer/Songwriter, part 3

Wow, I am a selfish biatch.

And I'm clearly an addict.

Here's my morning:

I text Jason at 10 am. (It was hard to even wait that long, but I didn't want to seem desperate.) I check my phone every five minutes for two hours. Then I text him again. He texts me back, and I can finally smile. Then more waiting, impatiently, on edge. Feeling worthless. Irritable. Discontent.

Meanwhile, I'm only half-present for my son.

That's pretty much how my whole day went. I half-played with my son, took Melia to the doctor and the pharmacy, took my son to a playground and to the airpark, but never was my attention fully on him, or her. All I could think about, all day was, "When's he gonna text me again? Come on!"

We did text a little throughout the day, but it was sporadic, and it was mostly him saying he was busy...he was as at work (duh), then he was writing music (which he does), then his grandpa was in the hospital, and then he didn't feel well. I called to talk to him, but he didn't answer. It was right after he had texted me, too. Then in a text message I offered for him to come over so he wouldn't be alone, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to go to bed.

But of course, that was me being selfish, under the guise of being of service.

Really, come on, Adora.

Meanwhile, I texted 3 other guys today. Two were in response, one was initiated by me. All 3 platonic, but still...why do I need attention from men in order to feel okay?

I also called 3 women, so I didn't just focus on guys. But with the 3 women I talked to, two of them didn't have time to talk, and the third one just wanted to talk about her own problems, so we did, and I offered her solutions that I pretend work for me.

Even my aunt with whom I live has noticed something's been wrong with me. "Are you okay?" she asked me today. "You've been quiet." It's true; I told her I've been depressed. I've begun to withdraw, more and more. I'm starting to hide from people. I'm glad I'm going to be seeing a therapist twice a week now, but I'm nervous about that, too. At our first meeting she brought up damn meds.

I remember before Margaret committed suicide, she shared with me her desire to get off her anti-depressants because she just didn't like not being able to feel. She hated being numb. A week later, she was dead.

It scares me, the idea of being medicated. Why must it be? Hell, my therapist is even talking about how my son may have ADHD. Fucking a', bitch, he's four.

I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me. I did all my spiritual guru prayer meditation shit today, but there's still this part of me that looks at everything in existence as totally meaningless. I'm driving, looking at road signs, and saying to myself, "Fuck that sign. What's the point of that fucking sign? There's no fucking point. Fuck it." Yesterday on the way to pick up my son I fantasized about pulling into a row of palm trees lining the middle of the road.

I'm so glad I have my son. He makes me laugh. He astonishes me with his brilliance, his innocence, his unconditional love. I want to see him grow up. I don't know the future. For some reason I expect every day to be my last day here -- I don't know why I'm just feeling like it's pretty much all over, all ready -- but I'm not suicidal; I have no REAL desire to end my life.

Still, I'm having a hard time enjoying anything besides laying in bed. Writing's okay. Singing's not so bad. But even with writing and singing, I'm like, "What's the point?"

I'm so glad I have things to read. I need to read a hell of a lot more. All this isolation just coops me up with my own ridiculously drab thoughts. I need to go to more recovery meetings, too. I'm at maybe three a week. But even then, I go to meetings and I look down my nose at people. "You pathetic, lying humans," I think to myself. I think everyone's full of shit. How I became Holden Caulfield, I have no idea. That persona is so played.

My therapist thinks I haven't fully allowed myself to grieve my losses. My parents, my siblings, my husband, Margaret, my boyfriends (or at least Evan, the one I was closest to). My son for half the week. My innocence...my identity...my inner child...or some shit.

She also has noticed that I don't have any girl friends. That is weird, I have to admit. I have some female friends in recovery, but they all have the qualification of helping me stay sober and vice versa...like they're not real friends; they just serve a purpose. I don't know what the hell it's like to be someone's friend, really. I've always been a loner. I've always preferred reading and writing over interacting with actual people. I don't like it when people don't like me. I give them too much power, and yet I can't seem to stop doing that. And yet they probably don't even not like me.

I heard myself say today, as I was getting me and my son into the car at 2:00 pm to go get Melia, "That's it - he doesn't like me any more," just because Justin wasn't texting me off the hook. I laughed at myself and thought, "What if someone thought that about me? 'She didn't text me back right away; she doesn't like me any more.'" The idea was completely ridiculous. Just because I don't respond to someone's every text doesn't mean I don't like him/her. Duh.

And so then I circle back around to, "Why the hell am I being so selfish? Why do I need to be liked? Why can't I just love people, and leave it at that? Why do I feel so damn deprived?"

I don't know. I need to widen my circle. Be less judgmental. Stop thinking my shit don't stink. Or stop thinking I stink like shit. Whatever extreme, neither are real. Stuff matters. Life has meaning. There's a reason for all this. I'm not gonna be a broke-ass student working two part-time jobs forever...unless I keep dropping my classes like I did last semester and keep missing work like I've done five times in the past couple weeks.

The Berklee School of Music Singer/Songwriter

So, it's been determined that I am, in fact, insane, but to what extent hasn't yet been decided by my therapist.

While trudging through the Dark Night of the Soul this past month, I finally decided to go ahead and make a damn appointment. I hadn't seen my therapist in over a year. I called every day from this past Tuesday to this past Friday, trying to get the appointment. I was being persistent because I was being told that she (my therapist) would call me back, and each day I was falling deeper and deeper into a sort of depression that I'd forgotten could exist, and she wasn't calling me back. Thankfully, she did, finally, and was even able to have a phone session with me on Saturday. The session consisted of me talking for an hour, catching her up on the past year, and her talking for 15 minutes, suggesting a couple things for me to do, as well as setting up another appointment for Wednesday (yesterday). And yesterday she set up appointments for Mondays and Wednesdays, based on my apparently tragic condition, so she can see me twice a week and try to figure out what the hell is going on that makes me want to do absolutely nothing.

I've heard about people seeing the world in shades of gray. About not wanting to get out of bed in the morning, or do anything, or go anywhere, or talk to anyone. I missed four days of work and my world was the color of feces. I just didn't want to be in it any more. No matter where I was, it just wasn't where I wanted to be. Nothing in the world was good - not even being with my son, which is the thing that's saved me so many times before. I even freaking got baptized. But it only got worse.

Today's finally sort of a little okay. I'm missing work again (my boss is sick, so there isn't anything for me to do there any way since they took all my responsibilities away saying that I'm over-qualified and that now I need to train my boss so he knows how to do his own damn job since I'm going to be graduating from school at some point and will move onto bigger and "better" - not 20 hrs/week $10/hour - things). My work situation has contributed to my depression a lot, for sure. They just made me stop doing all the things I do because I'm so much better at doing them than my boss is, and instead of letting me do them, they want me to show him how to do them, because don'tcha know, I'm a "temporary" employee, and since they can't afford to really actually hire me, they're gonna keep paying me less than this guy who I'm training. Yeah, it's depressing, all right.

Of course, you know that's not the only thing getting me down. Ahh...what we're all here for...relationships. This blog began as a relationship inventory. Relationships just haven't gone too well for me, understatedly -- namely, relationships with my parents and their significant others, relationships with my other family members, work relationships, relationships with "friends", the relationship with my husband, relationships with all the men I've somehow managed not to be successful at not getting involved with...these have all driven me completely insane, apparently (and well, again, the therapist and my doctor are going to decide the level of my insanity).

When I last posted, I had gotten back into a relationship with the boyfriend I'd left my husband for (the boyfriend with whom I'd broken up over and over in order to be with other men who'd wanted to be with me, before going back to him over and over when it didn't work out with those men - for two years - until he took off to Canada in September for three months and I finally had to face these demons without him).

I like to rewind and recap: So this boyfriend's name is Evan (#1) (and not his real name, of course). Those other men I just talked about are #2 through #26 (DAMN). After Evan left to Canada in September, I went and dated and had sex with a guy I'd pined over for like a year, who, afterwards, told me he had herpes (#27). I considered that a good enough rock bottom to want to really be done with men (and what choice did I have, I thought, if I might have contracted an STD?). I told my friend Margaret about it and she started taking me to meetings for sex and love addicts. Margaret's boyfriend was cheating on her, she thought, and he didn't want to be with her any more; she was so torn up that she decided she might be a love addict and thought 12-step programs would help her. They didn't (she didn't really try, IMO). After Margaret committed suicide (I had completed 42 successful days of "no men" and was going for 90), I ran into a guy who'd composed music for a video about suicide. When I talked to him about my experience with Margaret, he asked for my number, asked me out on a date, and we had sex even though I didn't want to. He was #29 (I'm counting Jesus as #28).

So, I went back to "Day 0". I've still been going to meetings, but I just haven't been able to get back to the whole "no men" thing. I haven't been able to put even one day together without some kind of pursuit of them (or at least without responding to them favorably). Margaret's death flipped me completely upside down; she was the one who was helping me with this "guy stuff"...or maybe I should say her death just put me back where I was. It was helping me to write about it...but once she died, I didn't even have the desire to do that any more, and it's been hard to get back to this inventory stuff.

I managed to stop seeing the suicide video/satellite communications engineer guy, but then Evan came back from Canada in December and asked me to the movies. I accepted, because that's what I do. But after a couple weeks I remembered, again, that I don't like him that much, and, more importantly, I don't like how unmanageable my life gets in my "relationship addiction", so, I operated via the standardly oft-repeated modus, and I had sex with the suicide video guy again, just so that I could get out of the relationship with Evan again...because gee, don'tcha know, I can't just be all, "Oh, yeah, sorry, dude, I forgot, I'm too fucked up for all this, and I don't want to be with you - my bad."

That was on January 1, go figure. Way to start the New Year, eh? I totally avoided writing about it, too, until now. But I do feel a bit better, doing so.

Oh, but - there's more.

I had called #23 (refer to the inventory to the right, somewhere) back in November when Margaret died, and we started talking again. His story is, when his wife left him six years ago, he wanted to kill himself, but instead of pulling the trigger of the gun that he was holding to his head on the pier, he checked into a psych ward and then a rehab and got sober. I hadn't talked to him since April, besides a few tens of obsessive emails I'd sent him after I stopped dating him (and I had stopped dating him because I got painful withdrawals from being away from him, and I figured it would be better to just end it and let go completely than to keep enduring those withdrawals...they sucked a lot of ass and hurt really, really badly). When I called him in November I used him like a therapist and spilled my guts, and would do so about every couple weeks, until a couple Thursdays ago, when I asked if I could see him in person, because I was depressed and needed a friend.

When I spent the night with him, I told him that I didn't want to have sex. He actually respected me. I think that's the first time that's ever happened with a male. (That statement belongs in bold.) So, the following week I went and spent the night with him again (this was last Friday, the day before I finally talked to my therapist on the phone, which I did from his apartment). And this time he was sick, so, we didn't even hug. We just talked. He just...totally...cared...about me...both times. It was shocking.

My obsession for him was lifted back in May, so these days he really is more of a friend. And he just showed me what a friend actually looks like. But I have developed a new obsession.

Of course, we'll call this one #30. He's the real reason I got rid of the other two guys (the Pizza Delivery Boyfriend and the Satellite Communications Engineer), in one fell swoop, 22 days ago, by the way. It wasn't just me not liking those other guys, or actually finally trying to change for real now. Nope - along came Jason.

I've "known" him since July, when I started singing at the church he works at as the sound engineer. I added him on facebook on Dec 29, he said hi in a facebook message, we messaged each other for hours, and he suggested we "jam" because he's also a musician (he sings w/piano). The jam invitation, over these past few weeks, turned into daily texting, which turned into sexting, which turned into us hanging out, which turned into us having sex, which turned into him becoming my boyfriend a few days ago (on Jan 19).

Okay, I can't write about this any more for now. I'm glad I've gotten this much out so far, though. I hope to get back into writing again, even though my classes have started - I have three of them. And two jobs. And meetings. And a four year-old. And a boyfriend. And now...therapy that I'm paying for and will probably end up taking some kind of medication because of -- oh, but, well, I guess I shouldn't say that I'll be taking meds because of the therapy, but because of whatever "disorders" my therapist and my doctor decide I have. General anxiety disorder has been mentioned. The depression may be situational, she says, but she's not sure yet, so we're gonna keep meeting twice a week to figure this all out.

But I'm really depressed about it the whole damn thing, if you want to know the truth (sorry, I do love Salinger's Holden).

"Closure" via Revisiting Some Old Notes; Margaret, part 6

I sang some songs at Margaret's memorial service tonight. It was a beautifully spiritual service, with lots of people who loved her in attendance. I was asked by her sponsor if I wanted to speak. I declined. After every meeting Margaret and I had together, we'd pinky swear and do a zipping-our-lips motion. So I didn't feel like saying anything in front of the crowd. But the songs went well. She had told me she really wanted to hear me sing. So she got to, tonight.

I was going through my journal the other day and I found some notes that I'd written from my and Margaret's first meetings back in January (almost a year ago now) when she was my sponsor. She gave me all kinds of assignments and things to do and think about. It's actually a lot of good stuff, if I would have just listened. I thought it was too much to handle then, so I dropped her as a sponsor and went back to the sponsor I'd had before her and before Jane. But then in October she and I re-connected over the "man issue" (since I was still having the same issue...had become the queen of the "man issue") and she took me to sex and love addiction recovery with her. Sad that I made it and she didn't. (Knock on wood...but I'm doing quite well, considering where I was at nearly a year ago.)

In Margaret's honor, I'm going to revisit those notes. The notes she gave me come first and are followed by my journal entries in a different font. The last journal entry by me is pretty defeatist; the good news is, my first sponsor picked me back up right after that and we kept on working the steps (I was only on step 4 back then; now I'm working on 10, 11 and 12), and by now things have improved considerably, especially with the new sex/love recovery meetings and sponsor in addition the alcohol (and debting and being a loved one/family member of alcoholics) recovery. 4 programs, 4 sponsors, 4 times the work = progress, not perfection.

1-4-13: HW and Notes from Margo

(9) Why in step 6 do they call it "defects of character" and in step 7 "shortcomings"? 

PROGRAM OF AWARENESS - doing right, doing wrong, tools to fix what doing wrong

character defect - scholar, driven, "do it right" = like sprint vs marathon = can burn yourself

SURVIVAL SKILLS - no longer serve us - not in those same situations

Man + woman = no friends

"People will show you who they are." - Maya Angelou

We don't have to do this program alone. We talk to qualified people.

Now that you're alone, create yourself, love yourself, be selfish in a healthy way, fill yourself with good things so you will be a better wife to someone else.

You may not meet Mr. Right - let that go and do your life.

Are they good enough for you?

When call, keep it to alcoholism, keep it to the steps. Or say "hey this happened" - be brief, not dramatic. "How do I handle this using the tools?"

THINGS TO WORK ON:
(1) How to step out of gossip - how to get out of "high school" gossip - but how do you do that when you're part of it + fuel it too?

If talking about Jane = resentment

(2) Write about your part with gossip - what you've observed about yourself

(3) Boundary-setting (the unhealthy ones won't like you and make you think you're wrong for setting a boundary; healthy ones will thank you and say you're right)

"I don't feel comfortable talking about that..."

First time you'll say it, you'll die. But-

Hang out with women who show healthy behavior (monkey see, monkey do)
-watch and listen, see what they have to say, what they're about
-longer sobriety doesn't mean they're good
-stick with the winners
-hang out with people who appear successful
-hang out with people who have what you want

(4) What areas other than sobriety do you want to work on?

[Today is your future - you're in your future right now.]

How do you want to spend tomorrow? What are you gonna do tomorrow to live in intention of how you want your future to be? Do you wanna sit tomorrow and worry about your future? Is that how you wanna spend your future?

(5) How do you want your future to look like?

Details: Materialistic, spiritual, physical

(6) Write all the wonderful things you've learned in your 10 months of sobriety (so you can see how you will be on track)
-I'm not alone
-I'm an okay person on my way to becoming a good person
-I don't have to drink or use

BALANCE - not black and white

Template for Life
-Responsible financially, having a job, telling the truth (but don't be a "truth machine" - be careful about telling the truth - could hurt you or others), loving yourself - setting boundaries

Before you call me - write about it first and try to come to a realization

(7) What IS best for you?

(8) Write about men - what do they do for you? What don't they do for you? Once and for all, get it out on paper - what's this man thing all about?

Identity - some women don't know what their identity is unless they have a man in their life.

"I don't need a man to be complete."

Healthy Dating 101: Balance -> relationship with men AND relationships with women

For our next meeting: Bring your writing for the week. Bring your resentments from the past that you write down.

4:30 to 6pm Wednesday

Journal Entry: 1-5-13

(1) Tell the person to talk to his/her sponsor about it, pray about it, journal about it, that I feel uncomfortable talking about another person "behind their back".

(2) Usually I'm just trying to help the person see his or her part in it and help them not gossip, but in so doing I am still perpetuating "talking about" the person.


Journal Entry: 1-6-13

Defects

Impatient
Aggressive
Forceful
I try to change people
Impulsive
Overly sexual
Overly sensual
Desperate
Selfish
No thought of consequences
Fearful
Weak with other people
Headstrong
Over-eager
Naïve
Subservient

Journal Entry: 1-7-13

(9) defect: 1. flaw in something = a physical problem in a machine, structure, or system, especially one that prevents it from functioning correctly

2. inadequate feature = a feature of something that is regarded as inadequate

3. imperfection in the internal structure of a crystal, e.g. an atom of a different substance

shortcoming: 1. deficient performance = a failure or flaw in somebody's character or in a system or organization

flaw: 1. detracting feature = a feature that is regarded as unfavorable.

2. a physical blemish = a physical disfigurement that prevents something from being totally perfect and detracts from its value

Step 6: Were ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

Step 7: Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings.

Big Book: Step 6: pg 76: "We have emphasized willingness as being indispensable. Are we now ready to let God remove from us all the things which we have admitted are objectionable? Can He now take them all - every one? If we still cling to something we will not let go, we ask God to help us be willing."

Step 7: "When ready, we say something like this: 'My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellows. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding. Amen.' "

So why "defects" and "shortcomings"?

I think defects will always be with us. They are intrinsic parts of our make-up. God created us with defects... I believe shortcomings occur when we act in ways that are short of our ideals for ourselves. To "fall short" or "come short" means "to be less than is needed" or to fall short of a goal.

-Asked in a meeting = 3 different people said it was just not to be redundant (didn't want to use the same word twice)!

(3) On boundary-setting today: I was talking to Gary and another lady after the noon meeting (Monday) until 3:40 pm!!! I had wanted it to be over quite a long time before that. But I then thought my higher power had me there to contribute and had me there for a reason - otherwise I totally would have wanted to leave. Question = when I am with someone or people (for example, in a parking lot after a meeting), standing and talking in front of my car, and one of the people got a ride/is getting a ride with me and it's another person that is hanging on and wanting to talk for way too long, how do I tactfully handle the situation if I want out?

"Hey guys I gotta go." Don't need any excuse/reason. Don't apologize too much for your own boundaries. They could get each others' numbers so they could continue the conversation by phone. HONOR THYSELF. Set idea in mind for how long something will take. No one else can pass judgment because you have something to do (or not to do!)

A side note on the 7 sins (wrath, greed/avarice, sloth, pride, lust, envy, gluttony): WASPLEG

When thinking of defects/shortcomings, we can use the 7 sins to see what "defect" might be affecting us adversely and causing us to make "bad" choices. Each of the sins seems to be a mis-use or over-use of an instinct, something God-given and necessary for life. These instincts running wild or taking over leads us to "come short" of our ideal, our ideals being useful to God and to others. I'm going to look at these 7 defects of character and find words that might represent the "healthy", God-given extent to which their instincts are used.

Ah, of course! The virtues opposite the sins!

4 cardinal virtues = prudence, justice, restraint/temperance, courage/fortitude; 3 theological virtues = faith, hope, love/charity.

7 heavenly virtues: sometime before 410 AD, Christian governor Aurelius Prudentius, from a poem "Psychomachia" or "Battle/Contest of the Soul": chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility

chastity - lust, temperance - gluttony, diligence - sloth, humility - pride, kindness - wrath, greed - charity, patience - envy

Sin - "Balance" - Virtue
Envy - Ambition/Goal-setting/Hope - Patience/Faith

Greed - Self-care - Charity

Sloth - Rest - Diligence

Gluttony - Nourishment - Temperance/Abstinence)

Lust - (Safe sex? Procreation? Monogomy? Restraint? Resistance? What is the healthy balance between lust and chasity?) (took 3 months for me to figure this one out, 3-31-13:) LOVE - Chastity/Abstinence

Pride - Self-esteem/Courage/Fortitude - Humility

Wrath - Self-protection/Defense/Security - Kindness/Love

(4) What are some areas other than sobriety that you want to work on?

With Margo: The steps, sponsorship, service

For Me:
1. boundary-setting
2. seeing reality
3. future-planning / goal-setting
4. not regretting the past
5. time management
6. not giving in to people (boundary-keeping)
7. having more faith
8. being grateful for what I do have instead of wanting what I don't
9. not hurting people
10. being a good role model
11. handling stress better


Journal Entry: 1-8-13

(3) Boundary-setting: My problem is that I never set the boundary when initially confronted. It is not until later that I realize that my boundaries have been crossed. But I cross my own non-existent, "later-thought-of" boundary, like feeling I need to invite my sponsee to LEGOLAND with me and my son so "we could talk".

Oh God, help!

Definitely need to set boundaries with my sponsee.

Need it clear when we will meet, once a week. I need a clear plan and don't have one. Yikes!

(5) FUTURE (ideal):

material: own reliable car w/no monthly payment. Have all debt except student loans paid off. Working 9 am to 5 pm or equivalent. Have bigger toaster oven.

Notes - interesting that I don't see living on my own as a possibility. Own house? I can't imagine earning enough money to have that.

Okay, I get it: I HATE THINKING ABOUT MY FUTURE. Thinking about the past and the future is what I drank over. Well who am I kidding, thinking/feeling about the past, present, and future is what I drank over. Psh.

Let's try this again:

FUTURE:

material: out of debt, more reliable car, living in between work/school and where my son and his dad live

spiritual: ask for God's help in morning and thank God at night, have "finished" the steps, go to church every Sunday, go to church choir practice/handbell practice every Thursday

physical: regular dental/doctor visits, get exercise

Journal Entry: 1-9-13

Screw this, I GOT IT: I know what I want for my immediate future. I want to live close to school Monday through Thursday and home Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. That's rent at two places = $200 at Aunt Jessie's and like $1000 if I'm lucky near school. I want to do this for 6 months, then come home for the summer. If I live on campus then electricity + wifi is part of rent. Just have to see when I'll have my son - have to be a place he can stay too. Material - I don't need a whole lot. I can buy things like furniture and "decorations" as I work. Spiritual - I can go to church and hometown meetings on weekends, and meetings close to school Monday through Thursday. Okay, now I'm really fired up. I hated this assignment at first because I couldn't picture any future different than what I have now.

Time management has ALWAYS been a problem for me. I do EVERY THING last minute and still get away with it. I want TIME MANAGED. STABILITY. ROUTINE. SIMPLICITY. Here are all the things I want to have time for in a day:

earn money
go to a meeting
call 3 women
talk/meet with my sponsor
talk/meet with my sponsee
do step work
journal
pay bills
go grocery shopping
spend hours with my son
prepare breakfast/lunch/dinner
do homework/read/go to class
clean/do dishes/do laundry/feed my cats
pray/go to church choir practice/go to church
watch a movie/show

How the HELL do I schedule all this?

What the hell is my schedule gonna look like when I'm working/going to school?

What custody schedule do I want?

And life is unmanageable all over again.

(6) What I've learned in sobriety:

-Things will never be perfect (progress not perfection)
-Only God will restore me to sanity
-Alcoholism and atheism were my excuses for my behavior (2 of them)
-My way isn't only not the best way - it's like, the WORST way
-Sober people aren't perfect - we don't get "fixed". We don't get totally "healthy - we just aren't as sick as we were
-BALANCE
-I do the same things over and over and expect different results!
-I go crazy over men. PEER - REE - UDD!
-I'm impatient and want what I want, right now - but EVERY time I get what I want, I'm worse off than before. Hence logic dictates, and confirms, that I do not know what is best for me, and my actions, unguided, will lead to my destruction and despair.
-One Day at a Time means not freaking out about tomorrow or even one minute from now. Stop projecting and start planning. Stop accepting and start changing. There are things I can change.
-I DON'T NEED A MAN and I AM NOT ALONE.
-I latch onto individual people. I'm looking for someone to latch onto. But I latch onto the wrong people. Men. I need to stop it.
-I love people! I can love people unconditionally.

1-9-13 NOTES (w/Margo)

"We don't have relationships, we take hostages."

SUCCESS = compare yourself with yourself - look back, and look at your progress
-to say what you need to say for your own peace of mind regardless of the outcome - sticking up for yourself, setting boundaries

(side note - learn all you can about detachment)

(fun stuff - etymology. sayings and origins)

Do not share with other people information that might hurt them or others.

Kind? Necessary? True?

Gossip = I'm just as guilty with this gossip + I want out. I'm sorry.
Amends - could repeat to Jane - wasn't kind or necessary.

1-2-3 lesson from seminar

1 blah blah 2 about 3
2 takes 1 to 3 and walks away (no part of it!)

9 out of 10 times when you gossip, it's gonna come around and hurt you, and you might drink over it.

Gossip - meditate, take a deep breath

Stick with the winners

(10) Next few days - call Margo to tell her what boundary you set (the short story)

Stop setting yourself up for failure

The healthier you feel about yourself, celebrating yourself, knowing you're okay, the less you need the sex things (filling the hole)

-fill the hole with healthy stuff. won't be this impulsive, out of control reaction - more in control decision

Guys - wanting something you don't have - thrill of the pursuit

Trying to fill something in you. Use good stuff = spiritual program, good wholesome stuff

7 deadly sins only deadly because we OBSESS - go to extreme (lust)

(12) Fear - if you let go of your behavior - who will you be?

(5) -continue future assignment
-look at women - what do you want that each woman has in recovery specifically?

(11) calendar - start scheduling in
school, work, recovery, son = show to Margo


Journal Entry: 1-10-13

(7) What is best for me?

-Not letting MEN be my HIGHER POWER
-Going to school to get my degree so I can have a career
-Not fucking around when I should be doing productive things for my future
-Being a kind of mom that makes me proud instead of the kind I resent
-Stop flirting with disaster. Stop going to the barbershop if I don't want a haircut
-Having an actual plan
-No more getting myself into situations that I can't get out of
-Not feeding my addiction(s)

(12) FEARS

-Not making enough money to pay bills, get out of debt, buy things I want, and "save up"

-I won't ever find that great man to spend my life with, and if I do, I still won't be happy

-I'll never just be happy with what I have, right now

-I'm afraid of falling in love and being hurt again/hurting someone again

-I'm afraid I won't get better, that I'll get worse or just stay as sick as I am now

-I'm afraid I can't be the kind of mom my son needs

-I'm afraid that "escaping" will continue to be my solution

-I'm afraid my son will grow up to have mother/women issues

-I'm afraid of not saying "no" to people who want me to do things for them (at my own expense)

How have I escaped recently?

-Cutting people out of my life
-Changing majors, dropping out of jazz ensemble because of a B
-Accepting failure rather than keep working at something (school, the steps, my marriage, picking my son up)
-I stop calling women
-I stop going to church/church choir

How do I want to escape now?

-Cut Gary out of my life
-Cut Sterling out of my life
-Unfriend people on facebook
-Not pick up my son tomorrow
-Not call women in the program
-Move close to school/work
-Spend the last of my money on a movie

What are the "crazy" things I want?

-To have totally hot sex/makeout with Sterling
-Oh but first, for Sterling to break up with his girlfriend and say he's hopelessly head over heels in love with me and he wants to sweep me off my feet and love me forever - and have super hot sex somewhere totally secluded
-For Gary to stop calling me and facebooking me and just be gay or fall in love with some chick who isn't me so I can get over him
-To live close to school/work in a house with a kitchen and a nice, sober, spiritual person or group of people (if the Sterling thing doesn't happen, which it won't, of course)

What do I really want my January accomplishments to look like?

-Got a sponsee and worked her through step 1
-Didn't have sex
-Stopped obsessing over men
-Didn't drink or use any drugs (including tobacco)
-Got a new job
-Got a new place

(8) GUYS: If I were a guy, I wouldn't want to be with me either. I'm not exactly "monogamous housewife" material.

I just want to feel loved and feel special in that way only a man can love me and make me feel special.

There is so much pain associated with losing someone - Ronnie, Evan, Gary (and I never really had Gary in the first place) - that I just look for the next guy to fill the hole. And then there's unrequited "love" - having feelings for a guy and that guy not reciprocating those feelings is so painful. And what about the pain I've caused? Breaking hearts - Ronnie, Evan - even guys who had "crushes" on me, like T, E, J, A, A, B, G, I, R...more guys whose names I don't even remember - who I've "cut off".

Even if a guy wants to have sex with me, that's a "crush" of some kind.

Deleting guys on facebook doesn't erase the past - it just helps me forget it.

I am just looking for another man to latch onto just like Ronnie and Evan. From the men I see, for some reason, Sterling seems like a great catch. See - "catch" - like I gotta snag him and reel him in. Or I latch on, like a leach - but I don't just wanna suck a guy's blood - I want to give to a relationship just as much, if not more, than I take.

I just can't stand the thought of being less than ideal - why doesn't a healthy, good man want me? I can't stand the fact that I must be so fucked up that no man wants me. It kills me.

So why does a man have to validate me?

Ever since I lost my dad at 8 years old - I wanted to be with a guy. I wanted to be loved by a man.

I used to have rape fantasies - I wanted a man to love me that badly.

I also have issues with women. I had to be my own mom. My mom was always in her room.

My son has mom issues. He's going to latch onto girls/women because his mom isn't there. He always tries to kiss me in inappropriate ways - like "making out" with me. I think he thinks that's the only way to get my attention. That's so sad - I need to give him more attention and time.

Question - How do I put sobriety first but also give my son the time he needs?

How do I juggle sobriety, school, work, and my son?

Why do I think having a man will fix it?


Journal Entry: 1-11-13

(3) Today's boundaries: Today is my day with my son. I will not let Ronnie get out of giving him to me.
-I will not let any man bait me sexually. I will not participate in flirting. I do not need a man today.

(5) Women in recovery: What they have that I want for my own future

Lori= Has college degrees and is a professor

Darlene= Uses her art/creativity professionally

These are the only two women in the meeting this morning who have something I want other than sobriety!

(13) What are you gonna do about this Gary and Sterling thing if you stay in your hometown?

Gary: Pretty easy - friend of mine said you're never cured from Hep C. Can generally get it just from sharing blood, but still, yikes. Also I want a guy with a stronger sex drive any way. Hep C has left him weak. Really I just enjoy his company and conversations - but even the conversations grow tiresome. I can get over Gary - he's not a very passionate kisser, and I can't stand that.

Sterling is a whole other problem. I just SO want to fuck him! He's so hot! And he's a hard worker, has been sober a long time. Did I mention he's hot?

What I need to do is accept once and for all that he is taken. Maybe try to put myself in Jennifer's shoes. I'm just being selfish - can I imagine if Sterling WAS my bf and there was some girl 10 years younger than me who plots and schemes and hopes he breaks up with me so they could be together? Maybe try to think about how I felt when Ronnie would come home and tell me about the girls at work who flirted with him and wanted him - that was HORRIBLE.

The next time Sterling suggests we "all" go eat, think of Jennifer. Remember my New Year's Res - to not hurt myself of others. Hanging out with Sterling but not getting to "have" him hurts me. Hanging out with him hurts his GF.

Journal Entry: 1-12-13

What happened to my boundary of NOT taking my son back early? I took him back today when I should have taken him back tomorrow. He screamed and cried so hard, saying "I hate papa, I want to punch papa in the face, I love you so so much mommy, I want to stay with you, I hate papa's house, I want to stay at your house!"

I caved so I could go to meetings and sing in church and see a choir sing the Hallelujah chorus? When, Lord, when will I be able to put my son first? PLEASE help me with this. Why do I justify going to meetings and church above having my son with me? I DO NOT THINK IT IS RIGHT. They say put my sobriety first. Being a mom to my son is putting my sobriety first. Don't these people get why I drank? It was because my son was taken away from me. Not having my son made me drink.

So because I screwed up and dropped my son off early and broke his little heart I needed something to make me feel good - so I went to Starbucks. I know I'm supposed to look for the spiritual and service solution. I'm supposed to pray and do something for someone else and that's supposed to make me feel better. What about my son? What does he get to feel better? He needs his MOM.

-Morose self-pity's got me in its grip.

Jane would say this is Satan and to kneel at the foot of the Cross.

"Satan tricked me." Blame it on Satan - hmm. Relieves responsibility... Good or bad? God - take away this defect of character that stands in the way of my usefulness to you and to my fellows (especially my son).

Journal Entry: 1-14-13

New job started; I feel SO good! Hope my son is okay. Not thinking about men today. Gave myself to Jesus yesterday - ate his body, drank his blood (bread + juice). My supervisor Sam is 32 and cute - but I don't think he's single and am not gonna obsess on him. Getting over Gary and Sterling and Evan still. Poor Evan. Hope he's okay.

Been praying for a lot of people - not myself. Jane, Ronnie, Sterling/Jennifer/Austin, Gary, my son.

Yesterday was AMAZING - sponsee, church, Hallelujah chorus concert, sponsor, Les Miserables = super grateful for all the pain and tears I felt yesterday. God gives me pain for a reason. Without pain there is no progress. I miss my son - not just that but he needs me. I need to give him structure.

To move or not to move - that is still the question.

(2) My gossip hurt Jane and Peter. Jane is now a recluse and Peter seems to be okay now. But I'm tired of talking about Jane or any one else.

Yesterday I realized that every single human being experiences pain - from kids in Malawi to singers in the Centre Chorus to Ronnie, my son, Jane, Peter, my sponsee + sponsor, Jesus, Martin's family, Banning, all the people in and out of recovery - every one! But I also realized I can just LOVE EVERY ONE no matter what.

TODAY = DO CALENDAR


1-16-13: Meeting w/Margo NOTES

What I'm noticing about myself: one of the reasons my life gets unmanageable is because I take on more than I can handle. I need to set the boundary of letting things go when I'm not handling my other priorities.

We were entertained by the fact that I see my behavior around men - but when will I see the seriousness?

It's okay to laugh about our insanity

We need to think about how our actions might be affecting others

I would want to be friends with a guy who would treat me the same way as if his gf was around.

Whether the guy is single/taken, are my actions honorable?

At work: DON'T TALK ABOUT PERSONAL LIFE.

People will ask you questions - private! - people are nosy - you have to be able to not answer them - "I don't feel comfortable answering that"

"I'm a private person"

People have no right to your information

Don't need to justify - "I said yes to this, but I don't want to any more."

"I so appreciate you needing me, but I have other commitments now"

MEMORIZE: When you start saying "because" and/or explaining yourself you see giving your power away!

The story is not necessary!

Sex
The people that violated you (me) - pg 69 2nd paragraph = apply it to THEM. What should you have done instead.

How did they hurt you? How angry are you? How did you have to deal with them afterwards? How did that feel? How did it feel to have no one to tell, no one on your side if you did tell?

First look at being the victim/survivor (different approach).

Wait until next week for the next part.

Look at the idea of it being a sprint rather than a marathon - when you're sprinting you miss the things you wouldn't in a marathon.

Look at your resentments and write down the PATTERNS.

When I'm bored and not fulfilled, I look for damaging/toxic things to do to fill up time (like alcohol).

Women's meetings - or if mixed meetings STAY AWAY FROM THE MEN

IMPATIENT - pray for character defect to be removed

DVD - Law of attraction - "The Secret"

LIKING ATTENTION - character defect

Going over the line to obsession = becomes defect

Everything that you like will always be waiting

Life - think of the heart monitor
-without ups and downs, you're dead! Flatline = dead!
-We're always gonna have the boop-boops

ASSIGNMENT
CHILL -> Relax! Or maybe I should say "Relaaaaaahhhx"


Journal Entry: 1-16-13

I miss Evan. I don't know what to do.

So annoyed with myself - I went to Blockbuster just hoping that cute guy was working. He wasn't and I ended up getting a movie that I didn't even want. Somehow I convinced myself that I wanted to see a movie when I really just wanted to see that cute guy. Totally didn't watch the movie either. Or eat dinner. Just came home and spent 2 hrs on facebook before I even put my groceries away.

Not gonna beat myself up - definitely needed to write it down though. How many more times am I gonna go to Blockbuster just to (hopefully) see that hot guy? What do I really gain from this? What does it do for me? Makes my heart beat faster?

I pay for Netflix for crying out loud.


Journal Entry: 1-17-13

I understand what Peter means when he says he was "sick of sobriety" after 7 years. Fuck, I'm sick of sobriety after not even 1 year. In two days I'll have been in recovery for 1 year.

I guess it's because it'll also have been 1 month since I've talked to Evan in 2 days. I really miss him and I'm pissed at people in meetings for their stupid suggestion of "no relationships for a year." What the fuck ever.

How can I be in such a bad mood when I just watched "The Secret"?

Maybe it's because I spent a SHITLOAD of money today for NO REASON and took 2 hours off from working and took ALL DAY doing a task that should've taken me TWO HOURS.

And my sponsor said she's done hearing about my guy issues - she just wants to hear about my step work + keep it to the book.

I'm getting tired of alcohol recovery and all its "suggestions".

I'm not showing up to choir practice or early church and I'm not showing up to my friends' concerts that I say I'm going to go to. I'm not honoring commitments.

I didn't talk to my sponsee today.

Breeze went 4 months without sex and look at her now - she's going nuts wanting it. It hasn't been a full month for me even and I'm going nuts.

No one in this town's recovery meetings are young or going through what I'm going through. I can't fucking stand it any more.

Journal Entry: 1-18-13

How typical is it that when I don't want to follow my sponsor's suggestions that I get a new sponsor?

My solution has always been to run away.