27 February 2013

Work in Progress

Hello friends! Today was supposed to be the debut of my "Working Woman Wednesday" post here in the Diaries but I'm still tweaking my idea. I decided I would post the first Wednesday of every month unless there is a great influx of feature-ettes-which would be awesome by the way, so feel free to spread the word amongst your friends and readers.

This week is trying to kill me. On Monday I had the palpable feeling of fighting a wave of depression and anxiety as it threatened to overtake me. At one point I wondered if a straw would fit down the open bottle of red wine in the dining room.

Seriously.

This continues to be the most fascinating aspect of my addiction. I have nearly 25 years clean and that mofo is still inside me, swinging for the fences whenever I feel severely overwhelmed. I've learned to let the destructive thought settle and then I run the whole scenario start to finish:

Me: I wonder if a long straw would reach the wine in that bottle. But it's red wine and I don't really like red wine so what would be the point anyway?

Junkie Me: You know the point--this day totally sucks, you hate the public schools, there's way too much to be done around here, and it's all killing you. Wouldn't it be easier to just take a break, have some wine, pack the kids up and move to the middle of nowhere?

 Perhaps. But after I have the drink I'll have to tell the Captain.

Well, you don't HAVE to tell him. It would really hurt him to know. You've lied before...

Exactly! Wow, I can't believe we're still having this conversation after all these years. I'd have to tell the Captain and then I'd have to leave the kids and go to rehab. They'd be really upset and the Captain and I might not survive it. I'd have to start counting one day at a time all over again, AFTER 25 YEARS CLEAN.  Yeah, it's not worth it.

Now the Captain will read this and remove the bottle of red wine.

But that's not really the issue. There will always be wine available if I want it (and just for the record that's totally not what I would drink if I chose to fall off the proverbial wagon after all these years--I'd order champagne). What is important-always-is that I didn't drink, lie, or run away.

This week is still fighting me but I'm staying put and fighting back. I may be engaging in this sporadic struggle forever, because, well, I'm not perfect, dammit. Just like "Working Woman Wednesday," I'm a work in progress. I hope you'll stick around while I tweak us both.




24 comments:

  1. You can send the wine to me. That IS what friends are for. But, this, too, is what friends are for--the listening. And the "poor baby" s & the empathy & the willingness to stab people on your behalf.

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    1. If you stabbed someone on my behalf I would most definitely send you a case of wine! You and the Captain could share it, because he's definitely the shooter/stabber in our family. I'm more the talker/writer of scathing letters person.

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  2. I wish someone was willing to stab people on my behalf. I'm only partly kidding. I'm struggling with my addiction to sweetness. Sugar, fake sugar, doesn't matter.

    I'm not winning. I'm glad you are Megan. It gives me hope.

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    1. I lean toward lighting people's hair on fire for the friendengeance, but I'd totally do it on your behalf, hon. That makes me sound kind of pyromaniac-y (which I'm really not) and crazy (which, well, yeah), but it's meant to be supportive. :)

      Sweetness is my thing, too. I'm losing the battle at the moment, too, but I believe we can both eventually pull it off. I don't have a plan or anything, just blind faith, but I'm clinging to it. Hang in there.

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    2. Part of my recovery has been learning to ignore my natural addicty desire for instant gratification. If I take the few minutes to think things through, most times I'm okay. THIS ISN'T ME TELLING YOU TO SAY NO TO SWEETS. This is me telling you it's okay to eat the sweets for right now. It's not going to instantly kill you, and it might be what you need to keep you from killing someone else. That's all good. When I stopped using drugs, I smoked like a fiend for another year. When I quit smoking, I ate M&M's. The important thing was I wasn't doing drugs. Eventually I stopped eating the M&M's. One thing at a time.

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  3. Why is it that some things you are never done with, even when you don't really want it anymore? There's that little voice that wants you to and tries to tempt you. Good for you for resisting for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS!!! YAY!

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    1. There was a line is the movie classic "Buckaroo Banzai" that sums of the dilemma. "Wherever you go, there you are." The problem for me, still, is that wherever I am, I'm still with ME. All parts, evolved and otherwise, are along for the ride. They just take turns being noisiest.

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  4. You're doing great! One day at a time, right?

    And besides, the straw would totally ruin the taste of the wine.

    HUGS and hang in there!

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    1. That's a good point, Deb. If I start to invest in glass straws someone call the rehab.

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  5. congratulations on another day handled. it probably doesn't feel that way to you, but you're inspiring me on a day I needed some inspiration. thanks.

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    1. I hope the inspiration got you through it. Sometimes I'm just white knuckling it while I wait for the day to end. White knuckling, and sending a lot of curse-filled texts to the Captain. I volunteer to be your text recipient if you ever need the same!

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  6. I'm not going anywhere. And I am awed by your honesty. Depression and addiction suck so bad.

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    1. Thanks for staying. In the times when I've had real depression I am amazed how much of a battle it is to just keep moving. In that way it's similar to the addiction in that it would like me to die. But whereas the addiction is sneaky and patient, the depression is somewhat blunt and unimaginative. It would prefer to smother me and have it over with quickly. I feel blessed to not deal with it daily.

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  7. It seems like the most difficult and important projects in our lives are neverending. I blame school. We were conditioned to think about the next test, the next paper, the end of the semester, graduation. Everything had an endpoint and a finish line. But the older I get, the more I realize that almost all of the hard stuff goes on and on. Fortunately, most of the good stuff does also. I'm proud of you. With all of your many, many accomplishments, I often forget that you spend at least part of your day fighting the good fight. We appreciate it.

    p.s. - Champagne? Really? That's not what I would have guessed.

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    1. In the middle of the Monday from Hell I found myself really resenting everything I do for my children. I mean, when do I get a life for me? When will this damn parenting end?

      Now join me in guffawing.

      Parenting is all the bad and all the good rolled into one. It is what I do best, and what I could improve upon the most. It is the inspiration for my writing and the interference in the process. It's the reason I don't drink and the quickest way to get me to think about it. And in my most quiet moments, stripped of ego and pride, I know it's the reason I'm here. So I'm okay with it never ending.

      P.S.: I stopped drinking when I was 23, so mine is an unsophisticated palate. I wouldn't turn down a cold beer (or case) on a hot summer day, but if I bellied up to a bar intent on throwing my life away, I would order some good bubbly.

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  8. What Carrie said. I admire you so much for your strength and perseverance and humor. Your life is not an easy one, not by a longshot, and that's on a typical day, which you haven't had for a long time.

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    1. I truly believe nothing bad lasts forever. That might be naive, but I choose to be optimistic. Sometimes I just need a day or two to remember it so I try not to do anything too stupid while the gears are turning. I've also gotten a little better at recognizing when I should speak up because the addiction whispers away while I'm quiet.

      Just the other day I was wondering how I used to have the time to sit and read everyone's blogs, when every minute seems full now. I guess "typical" is ever-changing.

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  9. I have a suggestion for your new Wednesday feature. If you check out my blog, you'll see me bragging on our own Sierra, for helping me out with research for my latest book. I am encouraging her to hang out a "for hire" sign as an online researcher, because she's so good at it. You could give her a boost some Wednesday!

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    1. I would love to give her a boost! Can you have her email me at the account listed in my profile?

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  10. Stay? Who could GO?! We adore you, worship at your feet, would throw ourselves in front of a charging bull or speeding train for you and the Captain and those boys! Of course we're all staying.

    Also, yeah, I do so know those feelings. Which is one of the ways that gets me through some of the rough patches: I'm not fighting this entirely alone! None of us are.

    I know that our hours are off, but feel free to panic/anger text me any time, for therapeutic purposes. It won't wake me up should a message arrive before I've started my day. (Of course, it won't really help you all that damn much either, now that I think about it.)

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    1. I will gladly text you because the help is really just in the venting. I texted entire epithet-filled paragraphs to the Captain and his standard reply was, "Wow. Okay, hang in there." So not much would be required from your end of the conversation!

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  11. Good on you for bitchslapping that destructive siren right in the mouth. Some days must be a minefield for you.

    It's not the same at all, but I used to have an eating disorder and since I quit exercising the weight isn't budging and that freak still in my head says "you could starve it off. it'd fall off like magic. you know how." and it's the truth. It would be SO FUCKING EASY to go there sometimes. So i think i get part of what you're talking about.

    Also, like julie said. Text me. Email me. I'm here, babe. And if you call, the Pea will squawk at you mightily till you start laughing.

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    1. It is entirely the same thing. Proof in point: I'm struggling with really wanting to lose these pounds that have taken up permanent residence around my middle. I was exercising and feeling good until the whole chest wall inflammation changed that situation. Now I'm considering the benefit of taking a daily dosage of sudafed because it's as close to speed as I can get--you know, legally, after producing my driver's license because apparently other people have had this thought. I am an addict in all things if I let myself go there.

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Thanks for reading! Unlike other Diaries, this one isn't private. Feel free to share your thoughts. Politely, of course.