How do I know when I am ready to move on from the first three Steps to my Step Four inventory?
Is this a trick question? I thought once you had made the first 3 Steps, and started applying them to your life, you moved on to Step 4.
I guess, in a way, I've been taking a breather between Thee and Four. Not intentionally, and I've still made some headway on Four, but it hasn't had that sense of urgency that the first 3 did. I dunno. I still need to do it, but I now have a way to make peace with myself over those flaws and I'm using it as I go.
I really have no answer for this one. When it feels right? I innately knew when to move on, but being able to vocalize how I came to that conclusion is another animal entirely. It also seems like a staircase: you're on step 3, and done with what you needed to do there, time to move on and upward.
This answer feels like a cop out. I would say, well, maybe that means I'm not ready to move on to Step 4, maybe I still have work on Step 3. Except I am tackling Step 4 through step 3, if that makes any sense. I'm using the God of my understanding to help me understand, analyze, and forgive those negative things I'm finding in myself.
This still isn't my right answer to this question. It's a tautological answer. It's time to move on because it's time to move on.
I would say it's when God gives you the kick in the ass to move on, but, while closer to the answer, that isn't it either.
I think it's when you NEED to move on, not when you think you're ready, or when you want to, but when there is some desperate internal need to move on. If that's the case, I'm not sure I'm done with Steps One through Three yet. I want to move on, but in the same breath, I'm perfectly comfortable just dumping it all over to God and not touching it. I haven't found that urgency or NEED yet for Step Four.
Showing posts with label turn it over. Show all posts
Showing posts with label turn it over. Show all posts
Monday, November 11, 2013
Friday, November 8, 2013
Mom in the Psych Ward
I'm not sure I remember much of this one. It's in a really fuzzy part of my memories of high school. It comes after my near suicide attempt and just after my mother's near suicide attempt on the bridge.
My mother was given the option to go into the psych ward at a hospital or be put there. I believe she chose to go on her own so we wouldn't hafta see her cuffed. We did not go with her to the intake, only Dad did. We, as a family unit, visited her a few times, not very often. Whether that was because of hospital rules or because of schedule conflicts I don't know. I remember she seemed at her happiest sad while she was there. She didn't want to be there, and felt deprived, but I could tell it was helping her. To my knowledge, that's the only therapy my mother ever has done, is that 6 week stint at Parkland. One of my strongest memories of that time is her saying "they won't even let me have a scrunchy, how am I supposed to kill myself with a scrunchy?!" and my thought of "I'm sure you'd find a way."
I was embarrassed of my mother being in the psych ward. I think, to this day, I've only told a handful of people about it, including my high school best friends. I think I was/ am more embarrassed of her being in the psych ward that I was of her suicide near attempt. I think part of it is because, with the suicide near attempt, I was able to cast myself as my mother's savior, I did it, I was the hero, even if I'm now no longer certain that's true. If she had abandoned us in suicide, it seemed more "honorable" in my head for her to leave us in death than to just leave us. I was also embarrassed of her being there because of the stigma attached to mental care facilities. I know better, now, but back then, ti was flat out embarrassing, way more than the suicide near attempt.
I was also mad at her. How dare she abandon us, yet again? Intellectually, I knew better, that she had no real choice. Then again, my mother CHOSE to go to the psych ward rather than come home. What had we (I) done so wrong that she wanted to kill herself and spend all that time in the hospital? Didn't she know we needed her? Dad worked, picked me up from school (that was a quiet car ride, usually Mom and Dad carpooled), came home, and started drinking. I think dinner during that time, more often than not, was fend for yourself. I pretty much went to school, came home, tried to get everyone something to eat, and babysat until bedtime, even though Dad was right there, most of the time. Or maybe he wasn't, I know he went out with his best friend to bars a lot around that time.
I blame Dad, too. One of the times we needed someone the most, there was no one. He was there, but we all knew better than to bug him about Mom when he drank. I was furious at him. We needed a father, not just a source of income. I was doing everything around the house. Do you have any fucking idea how rough it is to step up as both parents at 16 when you don't even fully understand why?
Why do I have abandonment issues? Because both parents continually abandoned me. Dad was always either at work or drinking, unless it was a holiday, in which case he was a happy drinker. When Dad drank, he retreated into his head, became a statue in the chair, unless he needed to yell at someone to shut up. Mom just flat out ran away for a period of time when things got hard. Usually only a couple hours, but a couple hours of not knowing where your Mom is when you're a kid is fucking scary, especially when Dad is freaking out and pressuring you to remember "anything she might have said about where she was going." Hell, we usually didn't realize she was gone until we heard the sound of keys and the front door slam. There were times I wished she would stay gone, then immediately chastise myself. Every Saturday, she would either drop us off somewhere or I'd watch my sisters while she went and played bingo. I realize she needed a break. It still hurt to watch Mom drive off, usually because she would have a rare smile on her face as she left. What caused that smile? Not us. Not me. Matter of fact, it the idea of the absence of us.
I felt worthless, while she was in the psych ward, like somehow we kids should have been enough to keep her happy and home, but we never were. Of course, because I was the eldest and should have somehow known, it was my fault we weren't good enough kids to keep her happy as our mom. Your kids are supposed to be a reason to live, not a reason to run away or a reason to die.
My mother was given the option to go into the psych ward at a hospital or be put there. I believe she chose to go on her own so we wouldn't hafta see her cuffed. We did not go with her to the intake, only Dad did. We, as a family unit, visited her a few times, not very often. Whether that was because of hospital rules or because of schedule conflicts I don't know. I remember she seemed at her happiest sad while she was there. She didn't want to be there, and felt deprived, but I could tell it was helping her. To my knowledge, that's the only therapy my mother ever has done, is that 6 week stint at Parkland. One of my strongest memories of that time is her saying "they won't even let me have a scrunchy, how am I supposed to kill myself with a scrunchy?!" and my thought of "I'm sure you'd find a way."
I was embarrassed of my mother being in the psych ward. I think, to this day, I've only told a handful of people about it, including my high school best friends. I think I was/ am more embarrassed of her being in the psych ward that I was of her suicide near attempt. I think part of it is because, with the suicide near attempt, I was able to cast myself as my mother's savior, I did it, I was the hero, even if I'm now no longer certain that's true. If she had abandoned us in suicide, it seemed more "honorable" in my head for her to leave us in death than to just leave us. I was also embarrassed of her being there because of the stigma attached to mental care facilities. I know better, now, but back then, ti was flat out embarrassing, way more than the suicide near attempt.
I was also mad at her. How dare she abandon us, yet again? Intellectually, I knew better, that she had no real choice. Then again, my mother CHOSE to go to the psych ward rather than come home. What had we (I) done so wrong that she wanted to kill herself and spend all that time in the hospital? Didn't she know we needed her? Dad worked, picked me up from school (that was a quiet car ride, usually Mom and Dad carpooled), came home, and started drinking. I think dinner during that time, more often than not, was fend for yourself. I pretty much went to school, came home, tried to get everyone something to eat, and babysat until bedtime, even though Dad was right there, most of the time. Or maybe he wasn't, I know he went out with his best friend to bars a lot around that time.
I blame Dad, too. One of the times we needed someone the most, there was no one. He was there, but we all knew better than to bug him about Mom when he drank. I was furious at him. We needed a father, not just a source of income. I was doing everything around the house. Do you have any fucking idea how rough it is to step up as both parents at 16 when you don't even fully understand why?
Why do I have abandonment issues? Because both parents continually abandoned me. Dad was always either at work or drinking, unless it was a holiday, in which case he was a happy drinker. When Dad drank, he retreated into his head, became a statue in the chair, unless he needed to yell at someone to shut up. Mom just flat out ran away for a period of time when things got hard. Usually only a couple hours, but a couple hours of not knowing where your Mom is when you're a kid is fucking scary, especially when Dad is freaking out and pressuring you to remember "anything she might have said about where she was going." Hell, we usually didn't realize she was gone until we heard the sound of keys and the front door slam. There were times I wished she would stay gone, then immediately chastise myself. Every Saturday, she would either drop us off somewhere or I'd watch my sisters while she went and played bingo. I realize she needed a break. It still hurt to watch Mom drive off, usually because she would have a rare smile on her face as she left. What caused that smile? Not us. Not me. Matter of fact, it the idea of the absence of us.
I felt worthless, while she was in the psych ward, like somehow we kids should have been enough to keep her happy and home, but we never were. Of course, because I was the eldest and should have somehow known, it was my fault we weren't good enough kids to keep her happy as our mom. Your kids are supposed to be a reason to live, not a reason to run away or a reason to die.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Al- Anon Meeting 2
Today was another Al- Anon meeting, this one a discussion meeting. This one was especially beneficial, as it tackled the stuff I've been dancing around all week. Not so much "what is God" as "how do you hear God" and "how do you know you're on the right path."
Some of the things said really struck me. One person's story could've been pulled from my mouth. (Not their exact words:) 'I don't pray. I'll wish you luck, send good vibes, and hope for you. I guess that's my form of prayer.' I've gotten better about true prayer. I still can't do the come to Jeebus, holy holy stuff. That always smacked me more as showing off. I will; however, let loose "God, help!" or "please let them be ok" or "where to from here?" I just refuse to "Oh, praise Jeebus, holy of holies, hear my loud prayer, Amen."
Another person mentioned a change in their prayer style, going from "I want, I need, I demand" to "what is Your will?" I've noticed myself making that transition, from "Fix this," "Do this," "all I need is this" to "help me do Your will," and "what is the right path," and, admittedly "please do this. I want this so badly. I realize it may not be right, but please let it be right."
My sponsor's reading had to do with the free will of other people. Heh. That's one of my reasons for letting go of my control of the world.
There were people there on their first meeting. Hearing them, I was struck by how far I'd come (and how much of me I still heard in them.)
My sponsor gave me some kind advice, and heard one of my more recent fears regarding fucking up my potential hypothetical kids. She introduced an idea that made perfect sense and was a foreign concept at the same time: treat myself to something positive when I handle something difficult in Al Anon or on here. The idea made sense, but it had just never occurred to me to give myself a treat for good behavior. I never got rewards for good behavior as a kid, so it never occurred to give them to myself. Of course, it never processed that I didn't get rewarded as a kid, just not punished, until she mentioned it. One of those disconnects between my childhood and a normal childhood. You can't miss what you never had, so they say.
Some of the things said really struck me. One person's story could've been pulled from my mouth. (Not their exact words:) 'I don't pray. I'll wish you luck, send good vibes, and hope for you. I guess that's my form of prayer.' I've gotten better about true prayer. I still can't do the come to Jeebus, holy holy stuff. That always smacked me more as showing off. I will; however, let loose "God, help!" or "please let them be ok" or "where to from here?" I just refuse to "Oh, praise Jeebus, holy of holies, hear my loud prayer, Amen."
Another person mentioned a change in their prayer style, going from "I want, I need, I demand" to "what is Your will?" I've noticed myself making that transition, from "Fix this," "Do this," "all I need is this" to "help me do Your will," and "what is the right path," and, admittedly "please do this. I want this so badly. I realize it may not be right, but please let it be right."
My sponsor's reading had to do with the free will of other people. Heh. That's one of my reasons for letting go of my control of the world.
There were people there on their first meeting. Hearing them, I was struck by how far I'd come (and how much of me I still heard in them.)
My sponsor gave me some kind advice, and heard one of my more recent fears regarding fucking up my potential hypothetical kids. She introduced an idea that made perfect sense and was a foreign concept at the same time: treat myself to something positive when I handle something difficult in Al Anon or on here. The idea made sense, but it had just never occurred to me to give myself a treat for good behavior. I never got rewards for good behavior as a kid, so it never occurred to give them to myself. Of course, it never processed that I didn't get rewarded as a kid, just not punished, until she mentioned it. One of those disconnects between my childhood and a normal childhood. You can't miss what you never had, so they say.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 6
When have I seen a Higher Power working in the Lives of those around me?
I have seen those around me who should be just as miserable as me, if not more, living happy, grateful lives because of their God.
I have seen pure miracles that science couldn't explain. My grandmother lived for years after her projected death date when she had cancer, although whether that was from spite, hope, or God, I'll never know. My middle sister found God (the God I don't care for) in jail, and seemingly can control herself (albeit not well) without meds now. I have seen my mother step back from the brink of the bridge.
I have seen minor miracles that some might call luck or coincidence, that timed suspiciously well with asking for help.
As much as I hate to admit it, the happiest, sanest people I know are the ones most devout in their devotions, be it God, the goodness of man, or love. They are also the ones that seem '"luckiest."
How do I use Step Three in my daily life?
I have to. If I don't, I worry at things and work myself into a giant ball of stress. Each day, each instant of stress, worry, or pain, I have to ask God "take this away. This is yours." There are problems where God says "I need to work through you to solve this." I can live with that, so long as I know I'm not shouldering the burden alone. There are days where it seems like God doesn't hear me, or won't hear me, where it seems I'll worry myself into a giant ball of stress. Those are the days where I know there is something inside, compounding what's outside, and that I need to attack what's inside and hand that to God before I can hand him what's outside. Some days, I need to hand him my whole damn life and say "Help, I can't." Then he sorts through the madness and gives me back what I can handle. Some days, I hand him tears. Some days, I hand him smiles. Most days, he gets a confused basket of yarn monsters, and I get back a couple balls of yarn to work with.
What have I experienced when I have turned my will and life over to the care of a Higher Power?
I swear I already answered this...It seems like this question asks the same thing as question 2 in Part 5. I guess they are different. One is "will" and "God," the other is "will and life" and "Higher Power." Still doesn't make sense that they ask it twice. I guess I'll attack turning over my life in this one.
Turning my life over has been a bitch, but overly simple at the same time. I think it's been so hard because it seems too easy. Things can't be easy. If it's easy, that means I messed up somewhere along the way. Yet, it is easy, in a way, to go "God, I can't do this, you take it." It's like the parent I never had, the one that helps me, as opposed to me having to help him. I think that is part of what makes it so difficult. I'm not used to having someone in authority say "here, I can help" and mean it. If I hear that, it's almost always a trick or not meant. Having some omnipotent being patiently sitting there, waiting to take and help me handle whatever I throw their way is mind boggling. Throwing bits and pieces has helped and, loathe as I am to admit it, served as a bit of an acid test. "Can God help me handle this? Ok, good. Can he help me with this bigger thing? Ok, good." I keep tossing my life to him and in the same breath saying "Ok, that's enough, give it back."
I recognize what must be love and serenity when I can manage to let him have my life for more than a split second. I'm slowly getting more of those moments as I can hand more of my life over to God. I yearn for the day that I can consistently walk in that serenity and love, but even the moment and seconds I'm getting are more than I had.
For someone with major trust issues and that wasn't even sure there was a god as of a month ago, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good.
I have seen those around me who should be just as miserable as me, if not more, living happy, grateful lives because of their God.
I have seen pure miracles that science couldn't explain. My grandmother lived for years after her projected death date when she had cancer, although whether that was from spite, hope, or God, I'll never know. My middle sister found God (the God I don't care for) in jail, and seemingly can control herself (albeit not well) without meds now. I have seen my mother step back from the brink of the bridge.
I have seen minor miracles that some might call luck or coincidence, that timed suspiciously well with asking for help.
As much as I hate to admit it, the happiest, sanest people I know are the ones most devout in their devotions, be it God, the goodness of man, or love. They are also the ones that seem '"luckiest."
How do I use Step Three in my daily life?
I have to. If I don't, I worry at things and work myself into a giant ball of stress. Each day, each instant of stress, worry, or pain, I have to ask God "take this away. This is yours." There are problems where God says "I need to work through you to solve this." I can live with that, so long as I know I'm not shouldering the burden alone. There are days where it seems like God doesn't hear me, or won't hear me, where it seems I'll worry myself into a giant ball of stress. Those are the days where I know there is something inside, compounding what's outside, and that I need to attack what's inside and hand that to God before I can hand him what's outside. Some days, I need to hand him my whole damn life and say "Help, I can't." Then he sorts through the madness and gives me back what I can handle. Some days, I hand him tears. Some days, I hand him smiles. Most days, he gets a confused basket of yarn monsters, and I get back a couple balls of yarn to work with.
What have I experienced when I have turned my will and life over to the care of a Higher Power?
I swear I already answered this...It seems like this question asks the same thing as question 2 in Part 5. I guess they are different. One is "will" and "God," the other is "will and life" and "Higher Power." Still doesn't make sense that they ask it twice. I guess I'll attack turning over my life in this one.
Turning my life over has been a bitch, but overly simple at the same time. I think it's been so hard because it seems too easy. Things can't be easy. If it's easy, that means I messed up somewhere along the way. Yet, it is easy, in a way, to go "God, I can't do this, you take it." It's like the parent I never had, the one that helps me, as opposed to me having to help him. I think that is part of what makes it so difficult. I'm not used to having someone in authority say "here, I can help" and mean it. If I hear that, it's almost always a trick or not meant. Having some omnipotent being patiently sitting there, waiting to take and help me handle whatever I throw their way is mind boggling. Throwing bits and pieces has helped and, loathe as I am to admit it, served as a bit of an acid test. "Can God help me handle this? Ok, good. Can he help me with this bigger thing? Ok, good." I keep tossing my life to him and in the same breath saying "Ok, that's enough, give it back."
I recognize what must be love and serenity when I can manage to let him have my life for more than a split second. I'm slowly getting more of those moments as I can hand more of my life over to God. I yearn for the day that I can consistently walk in that serenity and love, but even the moment and seconds I'm getting are more than I had.
For someone with major trust issues and that wasn't even sure there was a god as of a month ago, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good.
Emotions, Part 2
I just went to what was supposed to be an interview with a headhunter at a personnel firm for an engineering job. They had me fill out the personnel paperwork, which I thought odd, but figured it was SOP. While she was explaining the paperwork, the woman mistook me for a secretary. I corrected her and she went on explaining everything. As I was filling out the paperwork, and was halfway done, the lady came back in and said "Oh, you don't hafta fill that out. Just come back tomorrow for an interview with your resume." When I told her that was what I was told today would be, she vanished to talk to somebody and came back and said "just come back tomorrow."
It irritated me that I had wasted the gas to drive to the neighboring town to be told to come back tomorrow. It angered me that they couldn't keep a schedule that they had set. It frustrated me that I had rearranged my schedule to be told "come back tomorrow." It made me feel not worth their time and worthless. Instead of calling them on their horseshit (more than I already did), I just said thank you and left. I'm still fuming. I know the firm must generally work more with the nonprofessional fields, but you can't treat someone like that and expect them to be happy! I was treated like drone number 2356896786346756, like I wasn't worth the lint on the bottom of their shoes. I'm actually kinda angry at myself for keeping my professional cool and just taking it. I know it's better for my career to do what I did, but I wanted to remind her that I drove 45 fucking minutes for an interview that didn't happen. It made me feel shame, like it was somehow my fault they couldn't keep a schedule straight. I felt worthless, like I was someone they couldn't be bothered with. I felt that enough as a child, I don't need it from someone I just met. It's really tempting to not go back. If that's how they treat me now, how will they treat me in the long run? I know I will go back, though. I need that potential job.
I hate it when something like that happens. Especially when I feel trapped into doing what they say, because my options seem limited. I know I'm not trapped, that I could walk away and not go back tomorrow. In the same breath, I don't feel I have an option, because this may be one of my few engineering job chances.
Gods, how I wish I hadn't screwed my resume. I wish people were more understanding. I wish people were kinder, and there were more smiles and fewer tears. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I also kinda wonder if maybe this is a hint from God. Maybe one of those "quit trying to work around me and trust" moments. I also know better than to count my chickens before they've hatched. I've had promising interviews fail before. Sorry, God. I trust you, but I also know you can only help those who help themselves.
Well, God, the ball's in your court now. I'm done with what happened earlier. I'll listen for your small voice in me. I really don't want to go back tomorrow, though.
It irritated me that I had wasted the gas to drive to the neighboring town to be told to come back tomorrow. It angered me that they couldn't keep a schedule that they had set. It frustrated me that I had rearranged my schedule to be told "come back tomorrow." It made me feel not worth their time and worthless. Instead of calling them on their horseshit (more than I already did), I just said thank you and left. I'm still fuming. I know the firm must generally work more with the nonprofessional fields, but you can't treat someone like that and expect them to be happy! I was treated like drone number 2356896786346756, like I wasn't worth the lint on the bottom of their shoes. I'm actually kinda angry at myself for keeping my professional cool and just taking it. I know it's better for my career to do what I did, but I wanted to remind her that I drove 45 fucking minutes for an interview that didn't happen. It made me feel shame, like it was somehow my fault they couldn't keep a schedule straight. I felt worthless, like I was someone they couldn't be bothered with. I felt that enough as a child, I don't need it from someone I just met. It's really tempting to not go back. If that's how they treat me now, how will they treat me in the long run? I know I will go back, though. I need that potential job.
I hate it when something like that happens. Especially when I feel trapped into doing what they say, because my options seem limited. I know I'm not trapped, that I could walk away and not go back tomorrow. In the same breath, I don't feel I have an option, because this may be one of my few engineering job chances.
Gods, how I wish I hadn't screwed my resume. I wish people were more understanding. I wish people were kinder, and there were more smiles and fewer tears. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I also kinda wonder if maybe this is a hint from God. Maybe one of those "quit trying to work around me and trust" moments. I also know better than to count my chickens before they've hatched. I've had promising interviews fail before. Sorry, God. I trust you, but I also know you can only help those who help themselves.
Well, God, the ball's in your court now. I'm done with what happened earlier. I'll listen for your small voice in me. I really don't want to go back tomorrow, though.
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