I've been really struggling with this step. Partially because I'm trying to get a new career off the ground at the same time, but mostly because I'm trying to work around the idea that this is something you Don't Do. You don't talk about yourself, good or bad, but especially good.
My sponsor recommended I try to view the good things as gifts or lessons from others, to get around that mental block. It's still difficult.
I was in the classroom today (watching a lesson and getting introduced) and the higher ups kept going on and on about how smart and talented I was and how lucky they were I was there and all these positive things. I tried to just let it wash over me and accept them. I mostly succeeded. It was difficult to not interject with self deprecation, but I did it. I even managed to do it, somewhat, in my head. That's a rather large leap forward for me, to be able to accept a compliment without self deprecation either aloud or in my head.
I got joy out of helping the students, even the "difficult" class. It's that joy in work I've been hunting for. The day flew by. I smiled most of the day, which is another rarity.
Today I discovered I had more patience than I thought I had. I discovered that maybe I am as smart as everybody keeps telling me. I was reminded that I have a talent for helping people.
Showing posts with label working the steps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working the steps. Show all posts
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Monday, November 18, 2013
Not All Bad
Reading this, you might think I had some of the worst parents on the face of the planet. It wasn't all bad.
My parents encouraged us to follow our dreams, but be practical about it. Aim for the stars, but make sure you have a fall back plan, just in case.We were all heavily encouraged into STEM fields, but weren't denied dreams to write, paint, or whatever called our hearts.
I have distinct happy memories with each parent and both together. Six Flags with Mom, Norma's Cafe during Saturday errand with Dad, the occasional evening watching movies as a family.
We were well provided for, in terms of physical needs. Money was tight, but everyone got enough to eat. Yes, we ate a lot of ramen, ground meat, and cereal, but Mom and Dad made sure we got fruits and veggies and the occasional treat.
Mom and Dad did what they could to support our dreams as kids. Realistically, we all knew my sister wouldn't get a pony and that none of us would get a car as a sweet 16 gift. I did get plenty of meteorology and water books, my middle sister got art supplies, my youngest sister got plenty of Hot Wheels. Little things that didn't cost a lot but meant "I believe in you."
They were there for our achievements. One or both came to every award show or graduation, and they proudly displayed ribbons, trophies, and team photos on a cork board and shelf.
They did what they could to broaden our horizons. We went on family road trips. Mom took us kids storm chasing when I wanted to be a storm chaser (from a relatively safe distance, we never saw any dangerous action). We were in every free or inexpensive program we showed the least interest in. When I was in UIL academic, my father got up before the ass-crack of dawn to drop me off on Saturdays for meets.
We were raised to be kind, courteous, polite, and well- mannered, no matter what our state of mind. While their methods left scars, they worked to instill those values.
We were raised with an open mind, a sense of humor, and the ability to see past a person's exterior. Those values have saved my ass many a time.
The scars I have also instilled drive, humility, and a fierce sense of independence. That independence from a young age instilled in me a confidence in my ability to do anything.
My parents encouraged us to follow our dreams, but be practical about it. Aim for the stars, but make sure you have a fall back plan, just in case.We were all heavily encouraged into STEM fields, but weren't denied dreams to write, paint, or whatever called our hearts.
I have distinct happy memories with each parent and both together. Six Flags with Mom, Norma's Cafe during Saturday errand with Dad, the occasional evening watching movies as a family.
We were well provided for, in terms of physical needs. Money was tight, but everyone got enough to eat. Yes, we ate a lot of ramen, ground meat, and cereal, but Mom and Dad made sure we got fruits and veggies and the occasional treat.
Mom and Dad did what they could to support our dreams as kids. Realistically, we all knew my sister wouldn't get a pony and that none of us would get a car as a sweet 16 gift. I did get plenty of meteorology and water books, my middle sister got art supplies, my youngest sister got plenty of Hot Wheels. Little things that didn't cost a lot but meant "I believe in you."
They were there for our achievements. One or both came to every award show or graduation, and they proudly displayed ribbons, trophies, and team photos on a cork board and shelf.
They did what they could to broaden our horizons. We went on family road trips. Mom took us kids storm chasing when I wanted to be a storm chaser (from a relatively safe distance, we never saw any dangerous action). We were in every free or inexpensive program we showed the least interest in. When I was in UIL academic, my father got up before the ass-crack of dawn to drop me off on Saturdays for meets.
We were raised to be kind, courteous, polite, and well- mannered, no matter what our state of mind. While their methods left scars, they worked to instill those values.
We were raised with an open mind, a sense of humor, and the ability to see past a person's exterior. Those values have saved my ass many a time.
The scars I have also instilled drive, humility, and a fierce sense of independence. That independence from a young age instilled in me a confidence in my ability to do anything.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Step 4, Part 3
I've hit that magical level of exhaustion where things click into place because I don't have the energy to overthink them. Time to exploit that fact.
More inventory:
My red rage scares me. I don't mean anger or frustration, I mean flat out, berserker RAGE. I don't have it as often as I once did, but it's still far more common than I wish it was. It's always over something I can't control. It's always well beyond what the situation calls for. And much of the time I either lash out and hurt someone I love, or turn inwards and feed the storm into myself because I don't want to or believe I can't take it out on the offender (see: getting laid off.) Neither of these is healthy. I actually got complimented, once, for how professionally I took being removed from a position. What he didn't know is that I was being very neutral and clipped in my speech so I didn't get arrested for assault, and it was taking every ounce of strength and determination I had.
I guess being able to hide, or at least mask, unwelcome expressions can be a good thing in the working world. Being labelled sensitive or explosive can haunt you. I do need to remember to deal with those emotions, though, and nt keep them sealed off forever.
I'm still not sure how much of my anxiety (GAD) is situation based, past based, and asthma based. I have a difficult time distinguishing between them, because so often it's one feeding another feeding the other, like an anxiety centipede. I do know it has a firmer grip on my life than I'd like it to, and that I need to remember my emergency inhaler's existence more often.
I expect chaos. I may not thrive in it, but I expect it. When will the other shoe drop? When will things go to hell, because things always go to hell? What drama will unfold? I ask my God to remove me from the hurricane I live in, and in the same breath wonder how I'd survive in calm normalcy. Even something that should be minimal chaos, like talking to friends, or asking for another project at work, has me making contingency plans along the way for when it will all go to hell.
I make contingency plans. Hell, some of my contingency plans have contingency plans. I realize that planning ahead and having certain contingency plans aren't necessarily a bad thing, that it's actually quite a good trait, in moderation. I don't do it in moderation. I have contingency plans for the most inane things, like if I run out of gas on a stretch of road when I have a full tank, or if the dog dies suddenly. There are times I haven't even realized I had a shit plan until shit happened. There are other places I need a contingency plan and I refuse to even touch the topic (see: talking to my mother on a bad day and dealing with my middle sister.)
I have a strongly mathematical and scientific, but not necessarily rational mind. I like to think I consider logic above all else, but my heart tends to rule my head. These two sides of me seem to be constantly at war. I get a gut instinct and then try to figure out if it could be rational.
I am frugal and often cheap. Frugal is not spending more than you need, cheap is buying the same $5 item 20 times when I could have bought it once for $20. My husband is slowly helping me go frugal as opposed to cheap. I'd say that's largely due to not having enough money to be frugal when I was a kid; we had to settle for cheap. (Did you know there was knock off ramen? I didn't know name brand ramen existed until college.)
I am tiny built, and fit into extremely small spaces well. I learned how as a method to hide from pain. I still find myself curling into a smaller shape or whatever crevice I can find when I'm in pain or uncomfortable. It's a defense, but that defense doesn't work against emotional pain.
I can, and do, sacrifice myself for others, far more than I should. It was an unspoken rule growing up: take care of the small people (those younger, smaller, or more delicate than you) first, be that giving them your dinner, comforting them when you're in your own hell, or protecting them (Hey, look, a memory.) I guess it can be a god thing, in moderation, to help those in need, but my needs should (often don't, but should) come first.
Aside from basic survival needs, I put myself last. If you look hungrier than me, I'll even push my hunger aside. That hurts to admit. I thought I did a pretty good job taking care of myself, but looking at it, I guess I should probably do more for me. It's funny. People tell me to relax, take time for myself, do things I want to do for myself. I don't know how to do any of that, really. I know how to do what needs to be done, but when it comes to my wants, those tend to get shoved aside. The only relaxation I know is a bath with a book and one I hate to admit, even to myself (booze.) As I refuse to become my father, I refuse to comfort myself with alcohol. I try meditation, and get caught up in trying to be "perfect" in it. I can't thoroughly relax while getting a pedicure because sudden movements tweak me out. My journals are my outlet, and I tend to censor those, to an extent.
I have dysthymia. It's a form of depression where my high points of elation don't really reach much higher than your blah days and my dark days are like falling away from the sun with an anchor strapped to your back. People have actually said "Just TRY to be happy!" I give them a Wednesday Addams smile and send them on their way. When I eat right, I get a glimpse and a taste of nondysthymic emotions. They scare me. To actually be able to be consistently happy feels like euphoria, which scares the hell out of me because it feels like a loss of self control. I think that's why I self sabotage my efforts to eat right with "treats." The euphoria of normal happy scares the pants off of me.
I occasionally get the urge to run (I ran so far awayay) like my mother used to do. I've never acted on them. I know that my problems can outrun me and will be waiting on me when I get home. Even if running would help (I don't see how,) I refuse to do it for fear of turning into my mother. I don't even run to exercise, for fear I might like it and then start running away, like Mom. (Well, that and the real possibility of a severe asthma attack.)
When I was younger, the only reason I didn't cut was fear of discovery. I had dreams of carving symbols and words into myself and making them scars. I'm glad I didn't.
On my worst days, I am suicidal. It's not really something I can ignore. My mind will see every day objects and views and invent ways I can off myself. I don't see suicide as an option, but that doesn't stop my imagination from inventing new way to do it.
I need a safe coping mechanism, a candle against the red and the darkness. Biting it down only works for so long before it festers. I don't know of any way to handle negative emotion besides a whirlwind of emotion that dissipates quickly and leaves destruction in it's wake or biting it back until it festers into tears weeks, months, even years after it was created.
I can't name most of my emotions. I can tell you the Big 3: Sad, Mad, Glad, and Sad and Mad weren't to be shown when I was little. I can point out some others now (bemusement, bewilderment, confusion, frustration, fury, irritation, euphoria, calm, happy, elated) but the majority of my emotions fall into the lumpy category of Other.
I will push myself to my snapping point, and beyond, to the point where my head is doing nothing but screaming "I want out, I want out, I want out." Being able to push myself can be good, within reason.
More inventory:
My red rage scares me. I don't mean anger or frustration, I mean flat out, berserker RAGE. I don't have it as often as I once did, but it's still far more common than I wish it was. It's always over something I can't control. It's always well beyond what the situation calls for. And much of the time I either lash out and hurt someone I love, or turn inwards and feed the storm into myself because I don't want to or believe I can't take it out on the offender (see: getting laid off.) Neither of these is healthy. I actually got complimented, once, for how professionally I took being removed from a position. What he didn't know is that I was being very neutral and clipped in my speech so I didn't get arrested for assault, and it was taking every ounce of strength and determination I had.
I guess being able to hide, or at least mask, unwelcome expressions can be a good thing in the working world. Being labelled sensitive or explosive can haunt you. I do need to remember to deal with those emotions, though, and nt keep them sealed off forever.
I'm still not sure how much of my anxiety (GAD) is situation based, past based, and asthma based. I have a difficult time distinguishing between them, because so often it's one feeding another feeding the other, like an anxiety centipede. I do know it has a firmer grip on my life than I'd like it to, and that I need to remember my emergency inhaler's existence more often.
I expect chaos. I may not thrive in it, but I expect it. When will the other shoe drop? When will things go to hell, because things always go to hell? What drama will unfold? I ask my God to remove me from the hurricane I live in, and in the same breath wonder how I'd survive in calm normalcy. Even something that should be minimal chaos, like talking to friends, or asking for another project at work, has me making contingency plans along the way for when it will all go to hell.
I make contingency plans. Hell, some of my contingency plans have contingency plans. I realize that planning ahead and having certain contingency plans aren't necessarily a bad thing, that it's actually quite a good trait, in moderation. I don't do it in moderation. I have contingency plans for the most inane things, like if I run out of gas on a stretch of road when I have a full tank, or if the dog dies suddenly. There are times I haven't even realized I had a shit plan until shit happened. There are other places I need a contingency plan and I refuse to even touch the topic (see: talking to my mother on a bad day and dealing with my middle sister.)
I have a strongly mathematical and scientific, but not necessarily rational mind. I like to think I consider logic above all else, but my heart tends to rule my head. These two sides of me seem to be constantly at war. I get a gut instinct and then try to figure out if it could be rational.
I am frugal and often cheap. Frugal is not spending more than you need, cheap is buying the same $5 item 20 times when I could have bought it once for $20. My husband is slowly helping me go frugal as opposed to cheap. I'd say that's largely due to not having enough money to be frugal when I was a kid; we had to settle for cheap. (Did you know there was knock off ramen? I didn't know name brand ramen existed until college.)
I am tiny built, and fit into extremely small spaces well. I learned how as a method to hide from pain. I still find myself curling into a smaller shape or whatever crevice I can find when I'm in pain or uncomfortable. It's a defense, but that defense doesn't work against emotional pain.
I can, and do, sacrifice myself for others, far more than I should. It was an unspoken rule growing up: take care of the small people (those younger, smaller, or more delicate than you) first, be that giving them your dinner, comforting them when you're in your own hell, or protecting them (Hey, look, a memory.) I guess it can be a god thing, in moderation, to help those in need, but my needs should (often don't, but should) come first.
Aside from basic survival needs, I put myself last. If you look hungrier than me, I'll even push my hunger aside. That hurts to admit. I thought I did a pretty good job taking care of myself, but looking at it, I guess I should probably do more for me. It's funny. People tell me to relax, take time for myself, do things I want to do for myself. I don't know how to do any of that, really. I know how to do what needs to be done, but when it comes to my wants, those tend to get shoved aside. The only relaxation I know is a bath with a book and one I hate to admit, even to myself (booze.) As I refuse to become my father, I refuse to comfort myself with alcohol. I try meditation, and get caught up in trying to be "perfect" in it. I can't thoroughly relax while getting a pedicure because sudden movements tweak me out. My journals are my outlet, and I tend to censor those, to an extent.
I have dysthymia. It's a form of depression where my high points of elation don't really reach much higher than your blah days and my dark days are like falling away from the sun with an anchor strapped to your back. People have actually said "Just TRY to be happy!" I give them a Wednesday Addams smile and send them on their way. When I eat right, I get a glimpse and a taste of nondysthymic emotions. They scare me. To actually be able to be consistently happy feels like euphoria, which scares the hell out of me because it feels like a loss of self control. I think that's why I self sabotage my efforts to eat right with "treats." The euphoria of normal happy scares the pants off of me.
I occasionally get the urge to run (I ran so far awayay) like my mother used to do. I've never acted on them. I know that my problems can outrun me and will be waiting on me when I get home. Even if running would help (I don't see how,) I refuse to do it for fear of turning into my mother. I don't even run to exercise, for fear I might like it and then start running away, like Mom. (Well, that and the real possibility of a severe asthma attack.)
When I was younger, the only reason I didn't cut was fear of discovery. I had dreams of carving symbols and words into myself and making them scars. I'm glad I didn't.
On my worst days, I am suicidal. It's not really something I can ignore. My mind will see every day objects and views and invent ways I can off myself. I don't see suicide as an option, but that doesn't stop my imagination from inventing new way to do it.
I need a safe coping mechanism, a candle against the red and the darkness. Biting it down only works for so long before it festers. I don't know of any way to handle negative emotion besides a whirlwind of emotion that dissipates quickly and leaves destruction in it's wake or biting it back until it festers into tears weeks, months, even years after it was created.
I can't name most of my emotions. I can tell you the Big 3: Sad, Mad, Glad, and Sad and Mad weren't to be shown when I was little. I can point out some others now (bemusement, bewilderment, confusion, frustration, fury, irritation, euphoria, calm, happy, elated) but the majority of my emotions fall into the lumpy category of Other.
I will push myself to my snapping point, and beyond, to the point where my head is doing nothing but screaming "I want out, I want out, I want out." Being able to push myself can be good, within reason.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Working the Book, Step 4, Part2
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.
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.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
step Four, Part 2
I've been avoiding Step 4, regardless of how much I say I want it. I thought the God stuff would be the hard part. To find out that discovering myself is the hard part right now kinda sucks.
Figuring out what's me and what's chameleon or defense is difficult. I guess I need to explore those.
I am a people pleaser. It is difficult for me to express something different from the general consensus or even to lead a group to a common decision. I fear getting it "wrong" or causing problems and disagreements. I'm too used to trying to keep the peace and keeping things happy, even if it means keeping my needs and wants to myself. I guess that is a defense mechanism that can fall.
I have issues with silence. Silence was not to be trusted, because too often it was a prelude to having to comfort or find Mom or Dad's drunken requests and punishments. Silence was/ is scarier than yelling, because at least yelling let you know what was going on. Silence leads to fear of the unknown and fear of what's possible.
I fear eye contact, for the same reason a dog doesn't like eye contact: it comes across as a display of dominance, and I have trouble with dominance. I had too many displays of aggression and fear causes that came hand in hand with eye contact. Eye contact has been construed as defiance and I've gotten severely punished for "looking at [someone] like that."
I work well with children. I don't know if that is innate or because I had to mother my mother and siblings from not even double digits in age. I have seemingly infinite patience with kids, even when they misbehave or irritate me. I have more patience with kids than adults, mostly because adults should know better, and a kid is still learning.
I truly think all my issues come from two main fears and one secondary fear: fear of retribution, fear of abandonment, and fear of imperfection. If I can face those, the other, negative ones will fall.
Figuring out what's me and what's chameleon or defense is difficult. I guess I need to explore those.
I am a people pleaser. It is difficult for me to express something different from the general consensus or even to lead a group to a common decision. I fear getting it "wrong" or causing problems and disagreements. I'm too used to trying to keep the peace and keeping things happy, even if it means keeping my needs and wants to myself. I guess that is a defense mechanism that can fall.
I have issues with silence. Silence was not to be trusted, because too often it was a prelude to having to comfort or find Mom or Dad's drunken requests and punishments. Silence was/ is scarier than yelling, because at least yelling let you know what was going on. Silence leads to fear of the unknown and fear of what's possible.
I fear eye contact, for the same reason a dog doesn't like eye contact: it comes across as a display of dominance, and I have trouble with dominance. I had too many displays of aggression and fear causes that came hand in hand with eye contact. Eye contact has been construed as defiance and I've gotten severely punished for "looking at [someone] like that."
I work well with children. I don't know if that is innate or because I had to mother my mother and siblings from not even double digits in age. I have seemingly infinite patience with kids, even when they misbehave or irritate me. I have more patience with kids than adults, mostly because adults should know better, and a kid is still learning.
I truly think all my issues come from two main fears and one secondary fear: fear of retribution, fear of abandonment, and fear of imperfection. If I can face those, the other, negative ones will fall.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Reward and Punishment
At our last meeting, my Sponsor said something to the effect of "you've never been rewarded, only not punished." I've thought and thought and THOUGHT to find an example to prove her wrong. There had to be some time my parents rewarded me for good behavior.
I can't think of one. Good grades were so commonplace they weren't praised. A clean room just meant I wasn't to be punished. Babysitting was routine. Chores earned allowance in the same way a job earns wages. Rewards just didn't happen. Matter of fact, when I would be rewarded for something by a relative, I was often embarrassed by it, of all things. I guess because I viewed rewards as special treatment and special treatment was Bad, because special treatment meant you weren't perfect enough not to need it. A perfect person wouldn't need to be rewarded, it would be superfluous, because it would be constant reward.
I'm still scratching my head, trying to find a time I was rewarded, even with a simple "good job!" I think I heard that a few times cooking with dad. A true reward? I don't know that I was even allowed to go out to eat with the team after a soccer win. For all I know, we couldn't afford that, though.
I'm struggling to come up with a way to reward myself for positive behavior and progress. The word really isn't in my vocabulary, in regards to myself. I use stickers for the little girl I tutor, and praise. I use praise and hugs for my niece.
Part of the struggle with rewards is thinking of one I would consider a reward that isn't already used for something else. I already play a video game on a daily basis. I cook good food on a daily basis, and have severe food issues. I'm unemployed, so many are flat offlimits. Maybe giving myself a manicure or pedicure or allowing myself to watch trash tv or a favorite show.
Another part of it, possibly a bigger part of it, is convincing myself that what I do is worthy of reward and praise. Many times, I'm bewildered by praise, so I deflect it towards someone or something else. I'm bewildered because most of what others praise me for was what needed to be done or what I was asked to do. It just is. I feel like I can't accept reward for something that I'm supposed to do, even if I do a stellar job. It's needy, childish, and something you Don't Do. A good person doesn't need a reward, the good job was it's own reward, or something like that. Being rewarded is a foreign concept, almost as foreign as the ocean to someone that's never been off the Rockies: I know it exists, I've seen pictures and maps, but can't grasp the concept of seemingly endless water.
I don't know that anything I do is worthy of praise and reward. I've had people praise or reward me for things I couldn't understand. My Sponsor has praised me for making such progress in healing myself via Al- Anon, for making it so far as I have in my life. It needed to be done, so I'm doing it. I needed to get out and get a better life than I had, so I did. I still don't understand how that merits praise. I have the faintest glimmer of why it does, but it's like a candle 5 million miles away. I've been rewarded with a bonus for what I considered to be doing my job, and not doing it particularly spectacularly, in my eyes, much as I tried. It was for a "job well done," so apparently they liked it... How is doing what needs to happen worthy of praise? How is something incomplete still worthy of reward?
It's just... foreign. I understand the raw concept. An animal learns best with praise and rewards. I can apply it to others. But when I try to apply it to me, I can't see what it is I do that's special enough for a reward. If I saw someone else doing what I'm doing, I'd praise and congratulate them to the ends of the earth. But, in my head, I didn't "earn" that reward for the exact same behavior.
Another part of it is that perfectionist/ procastinist drive. I'm supposed to be perfect, and perfect people don't need rewards to learn. I realize I'm not perfect, nor am I expected to be. I can acknowledge that rewards would help in the process.
I guess the temporary answer on whether or not something deserves a reward is whether I'd praise or reward someone else for the same thing, until I can see the reward triggering actions myself.
I can't think of one. Good grades were so commonplace they weren't praised. A clean room just meant I wasn't to be punished. Babysitting was routine. Chores earned allowance in the same way a job earns wages. Rewards just didn't happen. Matter of fact, when I would be rewarded for something by a relative, I was often embarrassed by it, of all things. I guess because I viewed rewards as special treatment and special treatment was Bad, because special treatment meant you weren't perfect enough not to need it. A perfect person wouldn't need to be rewarded, it would be superfluous, because it would be constant reward.
I'm still scratching my head, trying to find a time I was rewarded, even with a simple "good job!" I think I heard that a few times cooking with dad. A true reward? I don't know that I was even allowed to go out to eat with the team after a soccer win. For all I know, we couldn't afford that, though.
I'm struggling to come up with a way to reward myself for positive behavior and progress. The word really isn't in my vocabulary, in regards to myself. I use stickers for the little girl I tutor, and praise. I use praise and hugs for my niece.
Part of the struggle with rewards is thinking of one I would consider a reward that isn't already used for something else. I already play a video game on a daily basis. I cook good food on a daily basis, and have severe food issues. I'm unemployed, so many are flat offlimits. Maybe giving myself a manicure or pedicure or allowing myself to watch trash tv or a favorite show.
Another part of it, possibly a bigger part of it, is convincing myself that what I do is worthy of reward and praise. Many times, I'm bewildered by praise, so I deflect it towards someone or something else. I'm bewildered because most of what others praise me for was what needed to be done or what I was asked to do. It just is. I feel like I can't accept reward for something that I'm supposed to do, even if I do a stellar job. It's needy, childish, and something you Don't Do. A good person doesn't need a reward, the good job was it's own reward, or something like that. Being rewarded is a foreign concept, almost as foreign as the ocean to someone that's never been off the Rockies: I know it exists, I've seen pictures and maps, but can't grasp the concept of seemingly endless water.
I don't know that anything I do is worthy of praise and reward. I've had people praise or reward me for things I couldn't understand. My Sponsor has praised me for making such progress in healing myself via Al- Anon, for making it so far as I have in my life. It needed to be done, so I'm doing it. I needed to get out and get a better life than I had, so I did. I still don't understand how that merits praise. I have the faintest glimmer of why it does, but it's like a candle 5 million miles away. I've been rewarded with a bonus for what I considered to be doing my job, and not doing it particularly spectacularly, in my eyes, much as I tried. It was for a "job well done," so apparently they liked it... How is doing what needs to happen worthy of praise? How is something incomplete still worthy of reward?
It's just... foreign. I understand the raw concept. An animal learns best with praise and rewards. I can apply it to others. But when I try to apply it to me, I can't see what it is I do that's special enough for a reward. If I saw someone else doing what I'm doing, I'd praise and congratulate them to the ends of the earth. But, in my head, I didn't "earn" that reward for the exact same behavior.
Another part of it is that perfectionist/ procastinist drive. I'm supposed to be perfect, and perfect people don't need rewards to learn. I realize I'm not perfect, nor am I expected to be. I can acknowledge that rewards would help in the process.
I guess the temporary answer on whether or not something deserves a reward is whether I'd praise or reward someone else for the same thing, until I can see the reward triggering actions myself.
Working the Book, Step 4, Part 1
What has kept me from working Step Four?
Fear. It has many different shapes and forms, but it is fear.
Fear of the unknown. I'm not sure what seeing it all listed out would do to me. I may find pieces of myself that I deeply dislike. I may find pieces in the inventory that I believe are "too good" and subconsciously want to thwart myself, because if I'm "good," people can't pin things on me. Fear that knowing myself would remove my ability to chameleon change and I'd lose one of my handiest/ easiest/ worst coping mechanisms. (Intellectually, I know that would not be a bad thing.)
Fear of harming others. Not myself. Others. Fear that knowing myself and starting to act true to myself would hurt those I love and possibly drive them away. Intellectually, I know that if someone would run away because I started trying to get better, they aren't someone to have. The part of me that fears being abandoned goes "NOOOOO!!! Get back here, you can't leave me all alone!" Fear that facing the music might somehow harm my mother and cause her to go into self destruct mode. As ridiculous as that sounds, I blame/ blamed myself for some of herself destructive behavior. Fear that my true self is nowhere near as kind/ generous/ helping as this persona I've put on. While I know it's actually quite the opposite, that once you remove the cynicism, sardonicism, and expectation for things to fail (hey, those are all related!), my personality will only get better, there's still that little nagging voice warning me I'll turn into the martyr.
Fear of myself. I've been this version of me for so long, what if I don't like what I turn into? My brain calls that preposterous, that this change can only be positive and that if I don't like it, I can always change it again.
Fear of doing it imperfectly. I can't exactly go at this with surgical shears. I'm kind of ripping and scrabbling and tearing at it, resulting in imperfect edges and bad seams. While I know humans are flawed creatures at heart, I can't be, I hafta be perfect, right? Wrong. It's like I'm this quilt, with all these rips, tears, bubbling seams and flat out missing pieces. While I can fix most of this, there will always be missing pieces and sewing errors. The thing of it is, an imperfect quilt has more personality, hence the love of the crazy quilt and T-shirt quilt. I'm allowed to be flawed. I'm allowed to be imperfect. I'm allowed to be the REAL me, without the layers of airbrushing and learned behavior.
Fear of fucking it up, which I guess goes hand in hand with the fear of doing it imperfectly.
How is Step Four helping me to accept myself?
Interesting word, "Accept." Part of me wants to rebel and fight back with "whaddaya mean? I've always accepted myself. I'm here, aren't I?" I don't think that "accept" was right, though. That one implies complacency and a certain "well, it's here, might as well do something with it." I think the correct "Accept" in this context is the acceptance of the path to self love.
It's funny. All these years, I've thought I had enough self love for 3 people, and enough ego for 4. Looking back, I realize it was a pretty horrible cover stretched way too thin. That self love was what I was "supposed to have," so I manufactured a version and dropped it in. It was cobbled together out of the wrong bits and pieces, so it never quite fit, but I'll be damned if I didn't keep trying to do it. It ws kinda like a round peg in a square hole. It'd fit, with enough force, but it never really worked right. That ego was a self defense ward. If I piled it on thick enough, you couldn't see my pain and weakness.
I'm starting to see that the real version of me, the part that's been hiding (or chained up, not sure which) isn't quite so "bad"as I thought she was. Weak? It takes strength to show the truth. Imperfect? Think of Crazy quilts. Smiles too damn much? Might be aside effect sign of a happy soul, not a cover against a dark world.
I'm starting to be able to shuck some of the layers of armor in favor of the goodness I've found within myself.
What benefits do I gain by completing a Step Four inventory?
I can find those holes and puckers and bubbling seams and replace them with fresh parts. Well, not quite "Fresh." More like old pieces that fit better. I can find those parts of me that no longer work and find old pieces of me that work better. It's all in there. It's just a matter of cleaning house.
Fear. It has many different shapes and forms, but it is fear.
Fear of the unknown. I'm not sure what seeing it all listed out would do to me. I may find pieces of myself that I deeply dislike. I may find pieces in the inventory that I believe are "too good" and subconsciously want to thwart myself, because if I'm "good," people can't pin things on me. Fear that knowing myself would remove my ability to chameleon change and I'd lose one of my handiest/ easiest/ worst coping mechanisms. (Intellectually, I know that would not be a bad thing.)
Fear of harming others. Not myself. Others. Fear that knowing myself and starting to act true to myself would hurt those I love and possibly drive them away. Intellectually, I know that if someone would run away because I started trying to get better, they aren't someone to have. The part of me that fears being abandoned goes "NOOOOO!!! Get back here, you can't leave me all alone!" Fear that facing the music might somehow harm my mother and cause her to go into self destruct mode. As ridiculous as that sounds, I blame/ blamed myself for some of herself destructive behavior. Fear that my true self is nowhere near as kind/ generous/ helping as this persona I've put on. While I know it's actually quite the opposite, that once you remove the cynicism, sardonicism, and expectation for things to fail (hey, those are all related!), my personality will only get better, there's still that little nagging voice warning me I'll turn into the martyr.
Fear of myself. I've been this version of me for so long, what if I don't like what I turn into? My brain calls that preposterous, that this change can only be positive and that if I don't like it, I can always change it again.
Fear of doing it imperfectly. I can't exactly go at this with surgical shears. I'm kind of ripping and scrabbling and tearing at it, resulting in imperfect edges and bad seams. While I know humans are flawed creatures at heart, I can't be, I hafta be perfect, right? Wrong. It's like I'm this quilt, with all these rips, tears, bubbling seams and flat out missing pieces. While I can fix most of this, there will always be missing pieces and sewing errors. The thing of it is, an imperfect quilt has more personality, hence the love of the crazy quilt and T-shirt quilt. I'm allowed to be flawed. I'm allowed to be imperfect. I'm allowed to be the REAL me, without the layers of airbrushing and learned behavior.
Fear of fucking it up, which I guess goes hand in hand with the fear of doing it imperfectly.
How is Step Four helping me to accept myself?
Interesting word, "Accept." Part of me wants to rebel and fight back with "whaddaya mean? I've always accepted myself. I'm here, aren't I?" I don't think that "accept" was right, though. That one implies complacency and a certain "well, it's here, might as well do something with it." I think the correct "Accept" in this context is the acceptance of the path to self love.
It's funny. All these years, I've thought I had enough self love for 3 people, and enough ego for 4. Looking back, I realize it was a pretty horrible cover stretched way too thin. That self love was what I was "supposed to have," so I manufactured a version and dropped it in. It was cobbled together out of the wrong bits and pieces, so it never quite fit, but I'll be damned if I didn't keep trying to do it. It ws kinda like a round peg in a square hole. It'd fit, with enough force, but it never really worked right. That ego was a self defense ward. If I piled it on thick enough, you couldn't see my pain and weakness.
I'm starting to see that the real version of me, the part that's been hiding (or chained up, not sure which) isn't quite so "bad"as I thought she was. Weak? It takes strength to show the truth. Imperfect? Think of Crazy quilts. Smiles too damn much? Might be a
I'm starting to be able to shuck some of the layers of armor in favor of the goodness I've found within myself.
What benefits do I gain by completing a Step Four inventory?
I can find those holes and puckers and bubbling seams and replace them with fresh parts. Well, not quite "Fresh." More like old pieces that fit better. I can find those parts of me that no longer work and find old pieces of me that work better. It's all in there. It's just a matter of cleaning house.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Working the Steps, step 4, Part 1
I guess before I start the workbook questions, I should start the inventory list. For those unaware this is step 4:
1) I can be kind.
2)... when I'm not using someone as a sharpening stone for my tongue in an effort to keep or drive them away.
3) I can be generous.
4) That generosity can, and often does, have strings attached, even unspoken strings. I tend to get peeved when someone does not read my mind and do what I mentally demand of them for them generosity.
5) I can be generous without strings, if I feel the person "worthy."
6) I have a nasty tendency of taking things personally, even when they aren't aimed at me. I think this has to do with the imperfect attempt to be perfect and blame: something's not right, and I had to have somehow caused it, ergo, something is wrong with me.
7) I am accepting of every person as themselves, no fakery or flattery necessary.
8) ...so long as you don't want to get beyond my walls. If you want to get beyond the moat, you hafta learn to swim in acid. I think this ties to the fear of abandonment: if I don't let you close, it doesn't hurt when you leave me... wow, note the "when," not if. That goes deeper than I thought.
9) I have many creative talents.
10) Using the talents for both happiness and pain still eludes me. I cannot think of a single painting I have done that was done in happiness I can do neutral subject matter (I have evidence in my sewing and ceramics.) I can use them for gifts to others. A happy use of it for myself is foreign. It's possible that my art is an outlet for emotions, and I don't recognize lasting happiness nearly as often.
11) I am very empathic, to the point of causing myself pain because I don't know when to shut off that faucet. I think my inability to shut off that faucet comes from fear: what if shutting off that faucet causes them more pain, so then their pain is my fault?
12) I can be friendly, in much the same way as a dog that was abused can be. I'll laugh and play until the instant you hit a trigger, then I shut down, almost instantly, or react in an unhealthy manner.
13) I'm reactive, not always proactive. As a kid, it was hard to be proactive when there was never a set schedule and you didn't know when things would go to hell.
[To be continued]
Made a searching and fearless inventory of ourselves.An inventory is a complete list of what is in stock. I take this to mean I should examine what is good about myself and what defects/ flaws/ bad stock I have taken over the years. Honestly, the hard part will be coming up with the good stuff. I have a laundry list a mile long on what's wrong with me, but to think of the positives... it's something you Don't Do. You don't self promote, you don't self aggrandize. Ego is not in humility or caring for others. I think, in an effort to keep myself honest, and help my hurting self esteem, I'll force myself to alternate, good and bad.
1) I can be kind.
2)... when I'm not using someone as a sharpening stone for my tongue in an effort to keep or drive them away.
3) I can be generous.
4) That generosity can, and often does, have strings attached, even unspoken strings. I tend to get peeved when someone does not read my mind and do what I mentally demand of them for them generosity.
5) I can be generous without strings, if I feel the person "worthy."
6) I have a nasty tendency of taking things personally, even when they aren't aimed at me. I think this has to do with the imperfect attempt to be perfect and blame: something's not right, and I had to have somehow caused it, ergo, something is wrong with me.
7) I am accepting of every person as themselves, no fakery or flattery necessary.
8) ...so long as you don't want to get beyond my walls. If you want to get beyond the moat, you hafta learn to swim in acid. I think this ties to the fear of abandonment: if I don't let you close, it doesn't hurt when you leave me... wow, note the "when," not if. That goes deeper than I thought.
9) I have many creative talents.
10) Using the talents for both happiness and pain still eludes me. I cannot think of a single painting I have done that was done in happiness I can do neutral subject matter (I have evidence in my sewing and ceramics.) I can use them for gifts to others. A happy use of it for myself is foreign. It's possible that my art is an outlet for emotions, and I don't recognize lasting happiness nearly as often.
11) I am very empathic, to the point of causing myself pain because I don't know when to shut off that faucet. I think my inability to shut off that faucet comes from fear: what if shutting off that faucet causes them more pain, so then their pain is my fault?
12) I can be friendly, in much the same way as a dog that was abused can be. I'll laugh and play until the instant you hit a trigger, then I shut down, almost instantly, or react in an unhealthy manner.
13) I'm reactive, not always proactive. As a kid, it was hard to be proactive when there was never a set schedule and you didn't know when things would go to hell.
[To be continued]
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Step 3, Processing
I went to a park earlier, to walk and try to process the "life" part of step 3. I could handle the turning over my problems, even mostly handle turning over my will. Turning over all of my life invoked the 3 year old in me: "nuh-uh, that's MINE."
So I walk. And thought, and (surreptitiously) watched kids play. I picked up pecans, and passed them from hand to hand. With each pecan that fell, or that I tossed away, another obstacle fell. I'd like to say I know what thought process it was that unlocked being able to hand over my life. I don't remember it. It happened all of 45 minutes ago, if that, and I don't remember it. I just know that by the time I only had one pecan left and had made 3 circuits around the park, I had not only figured it out, but done it. I found serenity, even if only temporarily. The last half circuit was bizarre (I may have been going into a hypoglycemic reaction), but euphoric. No. Not euphoric. Not worrying. Happy. Existing without anxiety or worry.
Even hours later, I've maintained that calm happiness and lack of anxiety. It seems surreal that I can do this, but somehow, I did it and am doing it. If I think on it too much, the anxiety starts to return, I think because I start trying to yank control back from God by worrying. So, I try to find my center whenever I catch myself doing that.
Last question of Step 3 in the workbook:
How did forcing my will on others make the situation worse?
If I was successful in forcing my will, the other person felt displaced, or worse, disrespected. It hurt friendships and family bonds that were probably already in trouble from previous attempts to force my will. It also tended to make the other person feel angry and took away their free will. I may not like the decisions people make, but they should be free to make their own decisions. If they ask, then I can help. Forcing my will on them just makes tempers shorter, situations more volatile, and things go from bad to worse.
^I think that's the realization I came to as part of my walk this afternoon. It was a realization in terms of "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you," instead of my more frequent "do unto others lest they do unto you." You hafta let folks live their lives. To interfere not only would muck things up worse and possibly ruin a relationship, but you would be trying to remove their free will, which is never cool.
So I walk. And thought, and (surreptitiously) watched kids play. I picked up pecans, and passed them from hand to hand. With each pecan that fell, or that I tossed away, another obstacle fell. I'd like to say I know what thought process it was that unlocked being able to hand over my life. I don't remember it. It happened all of 45 minutes ago, if that, and I don't remember it. I just know that by the time I only had one pecan left and had made 3 circuits around the park, I had not only figured it out, but done it. I found serenity, even if only temporarily. The last half circuit was bizarre (I may have been going into a hypoglycemic reaction), but euphoric. No. Not euphoric. Not worrying. Happy. Existing without anxiety or worry.
Even hours later, I've maintained that calm happiness and lack of anxiety. It seems surreal that I can do this, but somehow, I did it and am doing it. If I think on it too much, the anxiety starts to return, I think because I start trying to yank control back from God by worrying. So, I try to find my center whenever I catch myself doing that.
Last question of Step 3 in the workbook:
How did forcing my will on others make the situation worse?
If I was successful in forcing my will, the other person felt displaced, or worse, disrespected. It hurt friendships and family bonds that were probably already in trouble from previous attempts to force my will. It also tended to make the other person feel angry and took away their free will. I may not like the decisions people make, but they should be free to make their own decisions. If they ask, then I can help. Forcing my will on them just makes tempers shorter, situations more volatile, and things go from bad to worse.
^I think that's the realization I came to as part of my walk this afternoon. It was a realization in terms of "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you," instead of my more frequent "do unto others lest they do unto you." You hafta let folks live their lives. To interfere not only would muck things up worse and possibly ruin a relationship, but you would be trying to remove their free will, which is never cool.
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.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 5
In what ways do I struggle with giving up my will?
I have trouble, deep trouble, not knowing what the future brings. Not knowing what to expect brings on anxiety, because my past was always so unpredictable. I need to remind myself that I wasn't controlling what happened anyways, and what I did try to control just screwed things up.
Admitting that my "brilliant" idea isn't the best step is a blow to the ego, and there are days I feel I only have my ego left. Then again, ego is where you get when you leave behind God.
I'm getting better, though. If I catch myself, and remind myself, with effort I can let go of what bothers me. An example actually happened last night. My husband was getting irritated and angry with a piece of technology that wasn't responding the way it should. My first urge was to run away from the bad emotions that could hurt me, even though he never has. My second response was to want to go and do anything I could to make it better. Instead of either, I closed my eyes and asked God to take it, to help him find his calm.
I still want to make things better and fix them on my own, because I keep forgetting that God is there and can fix things in ways that they need to be fixed, not the duct tape job I would do.
What has been my experience when I have turned my will over to the God of my understanding?
When I can accomplish it, I feel serenity, peace, calm, and all those other things I don't feel often enough. I get this feeling that everything will be ok. I find that I don't hafta try and fix what is broken, because something infinitely more powerful than myself can do it for me. Sometimes, God chooses me to do some or all of his work, but it feels better being a channel for the right work than trying to ram through the wrong thing that I think is right.
When I can accomplish it, I find that things go better than I could have dreamed, because God does miracles every day, even just the small ones. Even when what I wanted doesn't happen, something positive or a lesson comes out of it. I may not like the lesson, but it does make life easier to just hafta learn it once.
I have trouble, deep trouble, not knowing what the future brings. Not knowing what to expect brings on anxiety, because my past was always so unpredictable. I need to remind myself that I wasn't controlling what happened anyways, and what I did try to control just screwed things up.
Admitting that my "brilliant" idea isn't the best step is a blow to the ego, and there are days I feel I only have my ego left. Then again, ego is where you get when you leave behind God.
I'm getting better, though. If I catch myself, and remind myself, with effort I can let go of what bothers me. An example actually happened last night. My husband was getting irritated and angry with a piece of technology that wasn't responding the way it should. My first urge was to run away from the bad emotions that could hurt me, even though he never has. My second response was to want to go and do anything I could to make it better. Instead of either, I closed my eyes and asked God to take it, to help him find his calm.
I still want to make things better and fix them on my own, because I keep forgetting that God is there and can fix things in ways that they need to be fixed, not the duct tape job I would do.
What has been my experience when I have turned my will over to the God of my understanding?
When I can accomplish it, I feel serenity, peace, calm, and all those other things I don't feel often enough. I get this feeling that everything will be ok. I find that I don't hafta try and fix what is broken, because something infinitely more powerful than myself can do it for me. Sometimes, God chooses me to do some or all of his work, but it feels better being a channel for the right work than trying to ram through the wrong thing that I think is right.
When I can accomplish it, I find that things go better than I could have dreamed, because God does miracles every day, even just the small ones. Even when what I wanted doesn't happen, something positive or a lesson comes out of it. I may not like the lesson, but it does make life easier to just hafta learn it once.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 4
Even if I don't believe in a Higher Power the way other people do, how can I apply Step Three in my life?
By consistently reminding myself while I am a part of God, I am not God. I cannot change others. I do not have the omnipotent ability of changing people or people's thoughts.
By standing still and listening for that small voice in my subconscious, that part of God that is within me. If I can hear that part of me that is still undamaged, then I can hear God.
By knowing that it isn't prayer or loud Hallelujahs that get the Great Divine's attention, but that small, private "help!"
God is a part of me, and I am part of the 'verse. By remembering that I am not the center of the Universe, nor am I something to be ignored. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar." God's will is the wind.
By reminding myself every day, every instant, that I am not the one at the helm. God's the one steering this ship. If I try to take the helm, I might miss out on something wonderful and gorgeous the Great Divine had planned.
The anxiety of turning it over to the Great Divine, I'll admit, is still there. At the same time, in turning it over, the anxiety lessens to a manageable chunk. I keep reminding myself that this God is not the one I held a grudge against. I keep reminding myself that this Great Divine hasn't, and won't, abandoned me when I need that calm voice the most. This God will not punish me. He surrounds me with serenity and calm, even in the storm, and it is my choice on whether I breathe it in.
What role did the support of other Al- Anon members play in helping me find a God of my own understanding?
I mostly took this step before really getting involved in meetings. My sponsor was the one that really helped me dig through the wreckage of my faith for my candle light that was still burning. Her questions and shared wisdom/ experiences really helped me nail it down, and separate it from the grudge I held. Knowing that it really was ok to have a Great Divine thoroughly different from the Christian God I hated so much was a lifeline. While I'm well aware that my sci-fi/ Buddhist/ Wiccan God is not the one common for most, I'm ok with that. My sponsor, with what she shared, and the literature, with the people in there with a nonabramic God, helped me continue to climb my lifeline the way I need to. My God is the God I need.
Oddly enough, hearing others at meeting speak of, and to, the God I refused was something that also cemented my own belief. A sense of "well, it sure as hell ain't that! So what is it?" kept washing over me, forcing me to make decisions and choices that I thought I was happy to leave unanswered. I wanted to be able to say the Serenity prayer and know where it was going. I wanted all the God slogans to have somewhere to go.
How does practicing Step Three help to alleviate my fears?
I'm still working on "let go and let God." It's a daily struggle to just hand over something to my Higher Power. I've tried to handle and control everything on my own for so long that it's a hard habit to break. I'm getting there, though, piecemeal. Trust is also an issue, but I figure if I can trust the people in my life that haven't hurt me yet, I can trust a God who won't hurt me.
When I do succeed in handing over the issue to God, I realize that it isn't giving up on whatever or whoever it is. It isn't saying "fuck it, you handle this." It is saying "I need some help here." It is saying "this is beyond what I can control or handle." It is telling God and myself that this is something more in his court than mine. Do I like Step 3? Not particularly. It still smacks of defeat. I'm still trying to change my thinking that it's not defeat or losing, it's realizing that I was losing until I let God handle it, so now I'm winning. I think I'd like step 3 a lot more if it meant a guaranteed win or that things would work the way I want them to, but that's not how this works. Step 3 also means admitting that sometimes I will lose that battle to win a greater war. Step 3 is a trust that something that is not me, something that smacks of authority figure, knows what's going on and knows more than I what needs to happen. At the same time, it is me, because "I am a leaf on the wind." No wind, the leaf doesn't go anywhere.
By consistently reminding myself while I am a part of God, I am not God. I cannot change others. I do not have the omnipotent ability of changing people or people's thoughts.
By standing still and listening for that small voice in my subconscious, that part of God that is within me. If I can hear that part of me that is still undamaged, then I can hear God.
By knowing that it isn't prayer or loud Hallelujahs that get the Great Divine's attention, but that small, private "help!"
God is a part of me, and I am part of the 'verse. By remembering that I am not the center of the Universe, nor am I something to be ignored. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar." God's will is the wind.
By reminding myself every day, every instant, that I am not the one at the helm. God's the one steering this ship. If I try to take the helm, I might miss out on something wonderful and gorgeous the Great Divine had planned.
The anxiety of turning it over to the Great Divine, I'll admit, is still there. At the same time, in turning it over, the anxiety lessens to a manageable chunk. I keep reminding myself that this God is not the one I held a grudge against. I keep reminding myself that this Great Divine hasn't, and won't, abandoned me when I need that calm voice the most. This God will not punish me. He surrounds me with serenity and calm, even in the storm, and it is my choice on whether I breathe it in.
What role did the support of other Al- Anon members play in helping me find a God of my own understanding?
I mostly took this step before really getting involved in meetings. My sponsor was the one that really helped me dig through the wreckage of my faith for my candle light that was still burning. Her questions and shared wisdom/ experiences really helped me nail it down, and separate it from the grudge I held. Knowing that it really was ok to have a Great Divine thoroughly different from the Christian God I hated so much was a lifeline. While I'm well aware that my sci-fi/ Buddhist/ Wiccan God is not the one common for most, I'm ok with that. My sponsor, with what she shared, and the literature, with the people in there with a nonabramic God, helped me continue to climb my lifeline the way I need to. My God is the God I need.
Oddly enough, hearing others at meeting speak of, and to, the God I refused was something that also cemented my own belief. A sense of "well, it sure as hell ain't that! So what is it?" kept washing over me, forcing me to make decisions and choices that I thought I was happy to leave unanswered. I wanted to be able to say the Serenity prayer and know where it was going. I wanted all the God slogans to have somewhere to go.
How does practicing Step Three help to alleviate my fears?
I'm still working on "let go and let God." It's a daily struggle to just hand over something to my Higher Power. I've tried to handle and control everything on my own for so long that it's a hard habit to break. I'm getting there, though, piecemeal. Trust is also an issue, but I figure if I can trust the people in my life that haven't hurt me yet, I can trust a God who won't hurt me.
When I do succeed in handing over the issue to God, I realize that it isn't giving up on whatever or whoever it is. It isn't saying "fuck it, you handle this." It is saying "I need some help here." It is saying "this is beyond what I can control or handle." It is telling God and myself that this is something more in his court than mine. Do I like Step 3? Not particularly. It still smacks of defeat. I'm still trying to change my thinking that it's not defeat or losing, it's realizing that I was losing until I let God handle it, so now I'm winning. I think I'd like step 3 a lot more if it meant a guaranteed win or that things would work the way I want them to, but that's not how this works. Step 3 also means admitting that sometimes I will lose that battle to win a greater war. Step 3 is a trust that something that is not me, something that smacks of authority figure, knows what's going on and knows more than I what needs to happen. At the same time, it is me, because "I am a leaf on the wind." No wind, the leaf doesn't go anywhere.
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 3
What keeps/ kept me from surrendering to the Great Divine?
For a long time, it was that one word and all it's synonyms: "surrender." That meant I lost, I couldn't handle it, things were not just fine, and, worst of all, it meant biting back my pride and asking something for help. Surrender means you're conquered like a losing country, subject to obedience, authority, and obeisance. I was stronger than that. I was Rome, dammit! A superpower all my own, with subjects and allies (and no small number of enemies to conquer.) What I failed to remember was that even Rome failed when it spread itself too thin. I failed to remember that Rome, in it's Golden Era, helped more than it demanded. When it started demanding more than it gave, it failed, rather spectacularly. I was not Rome in its heyday. I was Rome in the era of the mad emperors.
Then there was that whole "God" business. I wasn't going to worship one damned thing, thankyouverymuch. Acknowledge? Sure. Work with? Maybe. Bow and scrape and lick His oh so holy feet? Fuck that noise.
How do I begin to trust a Power greater than myself?
There's that twitchy word again: "trust." I have trouble even trusting myself. How do I go about trusting something that could easily be construed as an imaginary friend?
I realized that my definition of God does not hafta be the Abramic, father figure who will beat you if you're bad. I realized my definition of God didn't even hafta be humanoid. A spirit that moves around and through me and my actions? A God as large as the 'Verse and as small as that still, quiet "maybe" voice? A god closer to being wind than Dad with the belt? That's more my speed.
I can trust the energy of the 'Verse. It has seen everything and knows what my next step should be. I'm reminded of a Star Wars joke when I think of the 'Verse- the Force (or 'Verse) like duct tape: it has a Dark Side, a Light Side, holds the Universe together, and can become a giant, sticky mess if you fuck with it. I've been ignoring the 'Verse and pretty much got myself duct taped to a wall. When I do listen to, and trust, the 'Verse, it's like being able to use the duct tape in my favor.
How do I make that leap of faith? I don't. I walk across my duct tape bridge, one baby step at a time. I begin to trust by making duct tape planks, based on things I know to be true. I'm here for a purpose and I can't fulfill my purpose if I don't fucking listen to the instructions.
I used to have a t-shirt that said "When all else fails, look in the trash for the instructions." Well, all else has failed. Time to go hunting for the instructions.
For a long time, it was that one word and all it's synonyms: "surrender." That meant I lost, I couldn't handle it, things were not just fine, and, worst of all, it meant biting back my pride and asking something for help. Surrender means you're conquered like a losing country, subject to obedience, authority, and obeisance. I was stronger than that. I was Rome, dammit! A superpower all my own, with subjects and allies (and no small number of enemies to conquer.) What I failed to remember was that even Rome failed when it spread itself too thin. I failed to remember that Rome, in it's Golden Era, helped more than it demanded. When it started demanding more than it gave, it failed, rather spectacularly. I was not Rome in its heyday. I was Rome in the era of the mad emperors.
Then there was that whole "God" business. I wasn't going to worship one damned thing, thankyouverymuch. Acknowledge? Sure. Work with? Maybe. Bow and scrape and lick His oh so holy feet? Fuck that noise.
How do I begin to trust a Power greater than myself?
There's that twitchy word again: "trust." I have trouble even trusting myself. How do I go about trusting something that could easily be construed as an imaginary friend?
I realized that my definition of God does not hafta be the Abramic, father figure who will beat you if you're bad. I realized my definition of God didn't even hafta be humanoid. A spirit that moves around and through me and my actions? A God as large as the 'Verse and as small as that still, quiet "maybe" voice? A god closer to being wind than Dad with the belt? That's more my speed.
I can trust the energy of the 'Verse. It has seen everything and knows what my next step should be. I'm reminded of a Star Wars joke when I think of the 'Verse- the Force (or 'Verse) like duct tape: it has a Dark Side, a Light Side, holds the Universe together, and can become a giant, sticky mess if you fuck with it. I've been ignoring the 'Verse and pretty much got myself duct taped to a wall. When I do listen to, and trust, the 'Verse, it's like being able to use the duct tape in my favor.
How do I make that leap of faith? I don't. I walk across my duct tape bridge, one baby step at a time. I begin to trust by making duct tape planks, based on things I know to be true. I'm here for a purpose and I can't fulfill my purpose if I don't fucking listen to the instructions.
I used to have a t-shirt that said "When all else fails, look in the trash for the instructions." Well, all else has failed. Time to go hunting for the instructions.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 2
What was my understanding of a Higher Power when I first came to Al- Anon?
Fuzzy at best. I had some sort of spiritual belief, but I was good without God, especially the Judeochristian God.
I believed there was some sort of guardian or deity out there. "he/ she/ it/ they, I don't care." I didn't believe in a personal god, but at the same time I did. I think I envisioned God in much the same way my parents acted: helpful in moments of extremes, but usually pretty hands off and inaccessible. The insistence of God the Father or Goddess the Mother really didn't help. Why would I want some ethereal parent to do the same damn thing my parents did: punish me when I was bad, offer me some vague platitude of "yay" when I accomplish something, and ignore me most of the time. "A loving God is always in your life." Yeah fucking right. Nobody is always there for me, and God seemed not to hear my pleas. Even when he sent me what I most wanted and most feared (A CPS investigator), I chickened out (and coerced my youngest sister to corroborate what I said) and blamed God for not sending a good one. God the Son, who died to abolish my sins before I did them? Pfeh. A joke. No one can remove everything I've done wrong. That's too big a list and some of them are too big (and too deep) to just be forgiven. I kept my sins in an ongoing mental list, everything I did wrong, everything I fucked up. I absorbed other people's sins to be my own, as obviously they weren't doing anything about it. I was fucked up, just pin another sin on the scapegoat and send it to it's happy death. God the Spirit was a cop out, in my eyes. It was just another name for the God I had vetoed, the one that wouldn't hear my pleas or couldn't do anything, hardly a worthy God.
I chucked that God out of my life. I still vaguely believed in God, just not that one. More some all encompassing spark of life and energy. The Universe (or 'Verse, ala Firefly.) The All, ala Wicca. Nothing you really prayed to or beseeched for anything, more something that was always there and that worked you to your final destiny. I believed in destiny, but not fate or predetermination. You had a clearing at the end of your path, some final lesson, but how you got there was your own business. In my darkest or most painful moments, I would get horribly close to prayer, a "God, please, please, God," begging for release from whatever I had done to myself.
How has my understanding of God changed over time?
I still believe in the 'Verse, the All. I've incorporated bits and pieces from what I read and experience. "Thou art God," after all. The power in the 'Verse, God, if you will, is like a great furnace. What I have is like the pilot light for that furnace. If I blow it out, God appears to vanish. The instant I relight it, God reappears. God has never vanished. He seems to go into nothingness, but there is still gas, waiting for a spark. God is within you and outside of you. You are God, I am God, everything with a life is God. I don't grok God, but I have a fair understanding. I don't know that it's within human capacity to grok God. There are just too many facets to that diamond to see them all in one lifetime. But by being loving, compassionate, and serene, you can feel God and be God.
Fuzzy at best. I had some sort of spiritual belief, but I was good without God, especially the Judeochristian God.
I believed there was some sort of guardian or deity out there. "he/ she/ it/ they, I don't care." I didn't believe in a personal god, but at the same time I did. I think I envisioned God in much the same way my parents acted: helpful in moments of extremes, but usually pretty hands off and inaccessible. The insistence of God the Father or Goddess the Mother really didn't help. Why would I want some ethereal parent to do the same damn thing my parents did: punish me when I was bad, offer me some vague platitude of "yay" when I accomplish something, and ignore me most of the time. "A loving God is always in your life." Yeah fucking right. Nobody is always there for me, and God seemed not to hear my pleas. Even when he sent me what I most wanted and most feared (A CPS investigator), I chickened out (and coerced my youngest sister to corroborate what I said) and blamed God for not sending a good one. God the Son, who died to abolish my sins before I did them? Pfeh. A joke. No one can remove everything I've done wrong. That's too big a list and some of them are too big (and too deep) to just be forgiven. I kept my sins in an ongoing mental list, everything I did wrong, everything I fucked up. I absorbed other people's sins to be my own, as obviously they weren't doing anything about it. I was fucked up, just pin another sin on the scapegoat and send it to it's happy death. God the Spirit was a cop out, in my eyes. It was just another name for the God I had vetoed, the one that wouldn't hear my pleas or couldn't do anything, hardly a worthy God.
I chucked that God out of my life. I still vaguely believed in God, just not that one. More some all encompassing spark of life and energy. The Universe (or 'Verse, ala Firefly.) The All, ala Wicca. Nothing you really prayed to or beseeched for anything, more something that was always there and that worked you to your final destiny. I believed in destiny, but not fate or predetermination. You had a clearing at the end of your path, some final lesson, but how you got there was your own business. In my darkest or most painful moments, I would get horribly close to prayer, a "God, please, please, God," begging for release from whatever I had done to myself.
How has my understanding of God changed over time?
I still believe in the 'Verse, the All. I've incorporated bits and pieces from what I read and experience. "Thou art God," after all. The power in the 'Verse, God, if you will, is like a great furnace. What I have is like the pilot light for that furnace. If I blow it out, God appears to vanish. The instant I relight it, God reappears. God has never vanished. He seems to go into nothingness, but there is still gas, waiting for a spark. God is within you and outside of you. You are God, I am God, everything with a life is God. I don't grok God, but I have a fair understanding. I don't know that it's within human capacity to grok God. There are just too many facets to that diamond to see them all in one lifetime. But by being loving, compassionate, and serene, you can feel God and be God.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 1
How has Step 3 helped me find a Great Divine I can trust?
I have held a grudge against the first God I knew. There are too many false starts, bad memories, and horrible tastes associated with the Holy Trinity. That God failed me as a child, and i'm reluctant to give Him another chance.
Trusting something, anything, beyond myself was anathema. God obviously didn't care or hear my pleas, so why bother? Slowly, I realized that there must be something out there keeping an eye on me. I'm not dead and I'm not in a hospital. Something is watching out for me. I could accept a loving being that wanted to help me, but not necessarily a divine hand. I still have too much distaste for authority for that. Over and over, I told this deity what needed to happen. Over and over, I was told "no." Over and over, I prayed (I detest that word, but it's the truth of what it was) for answers and said "no, not that answer."
Eventually, something in me kicked. Maybe the way forward was not the way I thought I wanted. From there, all the dominoes toppled. If the way forward I wanted wasn't right, what was the right way? Maybe the 'Verse had greater plans than what I aimed for. Maybe the 'Verse had a better idea. Maybe, just maybe, I could listen for the next step in the plan as opposed to telling the Great Divine my next step and finding a wall.
Ok, I believed in the Great Divine, and trusted that the 'Verse had better ideas than I did, but I still didn't wholly trust this God. Deities had failed me. There came a point where I realized that listening for those next steps and trusting them didn't mean worship. BAM! The door flew open. "Thou art God. I am God." Robert Heinlein and Michael Valentine Smith had it right. God wasn't something to worship from afar via lip service. God is in all of us. Trusting God meant trusting myself, trusting that little voice that says "Maybe, just maybe...", and trusting that things would turn out in the end. I could handle that. Thou art God. I can handle that.
How do I distinguish God's will from my own?
It's hard hearing that little voice, when my head is clamoring over with brilliant (and not so brilliant) ideas. I wish I could say "you just know because of the peace." That's not true. Sometimes the truth come like a thunderclap, and sometimes it "comes like a butterfly and quietly lands on your shoulder."
You know it's God's will when the brick wall vanishes. You know it's God's will when things quietly start falling in your favor. You know it's God's will when, even though it's not the easy way out, it's the RIGHT way. You know it's God's will when, even as your heart beats out of your chest in anxiety, that small center of you that is God is a quiet candle burning steadily in the darkness. You know it's God's will when you're not afraid of what comes next, not out of depression, but out of the comfort that you ARE on the right path, wherever the hell it leads. Even if you fear the next step like it could kill you, you do it anyways, because there's a hurricane lantern beckoning you forward.
I have held a grudge against the first God I knew. There are too many false starts, bad memories, and horrible tastes associated with the Holy Trinity. That God failed me as a child, and i'm reluctant to give Him another chance.
Trusting something, anything, beyond myself was anathema. God obviously didn't care or hear my pleas, so why bother? Slowly, I realized that there must be something out there keeping an eye on me. I'm not dead and I'm not in a hospital. Something is watching out for me. I could accept a loving being that wanted to help me, but not necessarily a divine hand. I still have too much distaste for authority for that. Over and over, I told this deity what needed to happen. Over and over, I was told "no." Over and over, I prayed (I detest that word, but it's the truth of what it was) for answers and said "no, not that answer."
Eventually, something in me kicked. Maybe the way forward was not the way I thought I wanted. From there, all the dominoes toppled. If the way forward I wanted wasn't right, what was the right way? Maybe the 'Verse had greater plans than what I aimed for. Maybe the 'Verse had a better idea. Maybe, just maybe, I could listen for the next step in the plan as opposed to telling the Great Divine my next step and finding a wall.
Ok, I believed in the Great Divine, and trusted that the 'Verse had better ideas than I did, but I still didn't wholly trust this God. Deities had failed me. There came a point where I realized that listening for those next steps and trusting them didn't mean worship. BAM! The door flew open. "Thou art God. I am God." Robert Heinlein and Michael Valentine Smith had it right. God wasn't something to worship from afar via lip service. God is in all of us. Trusting God meant trusting myself, trusting that little voice that says "Maybe, just maybe...", and trusting that things would turn out in the end. I could handle that. Thou art God. I can handle that.
How do I distinguish God's will from my own?
It's hard hearing that little voice, when my head is clamoring over with brilliant (and not so brilliant) ideas. I wish I could say "you just know because of the peace." That's not true. Sometimes the truth come like a thunderclap, and sometimes it "comes like a butterfly and quietly lands on your shoulder."
You know it's God's will when the brick wall vanishes. You know it's God's will when things quietly start falling in your favor. You know it's God's will when, even though it's not the easy way out, it's the RIGHT way. You know it's God's will when, even as your heart beats out of your chest in anxiety, that small center of you that is God is a quiet candle burning steadily in the darkness. You know it's God's will when you're not afraid of what comes next, not out of depression, but out of the comfort that you ARE on the right path, wherever the hell it leads. Even if you fear the next step like it could kill you, you do it anyways, because there's a hurricane lantern beckoning you forward.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Working the Book, Step 2, Part 3
Which words in Step 2 do I find especially meaningful?
First, a reminder of the wording of Step 2:
"To sanity" is also powerful. It is a reminder of the definition of insanity: doing the same thing and expecting different results. I've been doing the same thing, in one form or another, my whole life, and expecting different results. I've tried going it alone for 15 years and expected something different. Sanity is waking up from the nightmare, not just reaching for another knife and staying asleep.
"Restore" gives me hope. It means I haven't always been crazy and won't always be crazy. It means there is still some spark in me that wants things to be healed. Even a scar is no longer a gaping, oozing wound.
"Believe." A simple word that has always been my way forward. Believe in a better tomorrow. Believe that things and people can change. Believe that things must get saner, because the Great Divine won't let it get worse.
First, a reminder of the wording of Step 2:
I think the strongest part of that phrase is "Power greater than ourselves." For so long, I've denied the existence of a helping deity. I have claimed that "there is a God, but it's closer to a scientist/ petri dish relationship. He's just watching, not messing with it." I'm still not sure the Great Divine really has an interest in my day to day life, but I know that if things really get bad, it'll intervene. The Great Divine has a vested interest in keeping me alive and sane, and can handle all that I ask it to help with.Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.
"To sanity" is also powerful. It is a reminder of the definition of insanity: doing the same thing and expecting different results. I've been doing the same thing, in one form or another, my whole life, and expecting different results. I've tried going it alone for 15 years and expected something different. Sanity is waking up from the nightmare, not just reaching for another knife and staying asleep.
"Restore" gives me hope. It means I haven't always been crazy and won't always be crazy. It means there is still some spark in me that wants things to be healed. Even a scar is no longer a gaping, oozing wound.
"Believe." A simple word that has always been my way forward. Believe in a better tomorrow. Believe that things and people can change. Believe that things must get saner, because the Great Divine won't let it get worse.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Working the Book, Step 2, Part 2
In what ways has my thinking disturbed my peace?
I think a more accurate version of this is "in what ways hasn't your thinking disturbed your peace?" The list is far shorter, almost nonexistent.
I have a nasty tendency of taking innocuous things personally. Even if it was meant as a joke or had nothing whatsoever to do with me, I take it personally. I would better keep my peace with a healthy reaction.
I get sad and angry over things that I have no control over. Like when middle sister went to jail, I blamed myself for not raising her correctly (yeah, because that 2.5 years means I can mother her well.) Or when my mother needs a med change and won't ask the doc about it. Or idiots in traffic.
I am very hard on myself. If it's not perfect, it's something to stew on and worry over or rage over.
I get anxious and worry over things that don't deserve my time or energy or that I can't fix. (This has gotten better by cutting sulfites from my diet.) I worry over my mother, when she's been doing well. I worry over my car, and that cosmetic damage. I worry over money, even when there's enough coming in (it's especially hard when I'm unemployed.) I'm anxious in traffic, because I can't control the idiots around me. On especially bad days, I worry about my husband, his entire family, all my friends, my sponsor, just up and abandoning me.
I know my fears of abandonment come from actually being temporarily abandoned, repeatedly, by my mother. She'd decide life is too hard or her emotions were too complicated or something, and just drive off. Yes, I'd be safe with someone (as a kid, as a teenager, I was the safe one for my sisters), but to see my mother just walk or drive off, without saying good bye or even saying she'd be back, scared (and scarred) me. We never even knew where she was going or if she'd be back. One minute she was there, the next, she was crying and walking out the door. After she attempted suicide on one of those outings, I worried all the more. There were times I wished she wouldn't come back, then I'd heap blame and shame on myself for those thoughts. "She is my mother!" I'd chide myself, "I hafta love her and want her." There are times that I wonder if her taking us storm chasing was actually self destructive behavior that endangered us kids or if it was a form of running away. I know the winter in Pennsylvania with her pen pal was running away. I later found out that she didn't tell Dad until either we were gone or until we got back. There are some memories there I need to uncover.
How does Step 2 help me find peace in stressful situations?
Just reminding myself that I don't hafta face this alone helps. Knowing that there is someone out there who knows all of my past, all of my secrets, and all of everything, and still loves me and won't leave me (well, it hasn't yet) is a scary and empowering thought. Just the idea of, even if everything goes to hell, I have something to fall back on, helps me stay sane. There is an image of myself in an exoskeleton, where the exoskeleton is the Great Divine, that helps me realize that even if I don't have the strength, the Great Divine does.
I think a more accurate version of this is "in what ways hasn't your thinking disturbed your peace?" The list is far shorter, almost nonexistent.
I have a nasty tendency of taking innocuous things personally. Even if it was meant as a joke or had nothing whatsoever to do with me, I take it personally. I would better keep my peace with a healthy reaction.
I get sad and angry over things that I have no control over. Like when middle sister went to jail, I blamed myself for not raising her correctly (yeah, because that 2.5 years means I can mother her well.) Or when my mother needs a med change and won't ask the doc about it. Or idiots in traffic.
I am very hard on myself. If it's not perfect, it's something to stew on and worry over or rage over.
I get anxious and worry over things that don't deserve my time or energy or that I can't fix. (This has gotten better by cutting sulfites from my diet.) I worry over my mother, when she's been doing well. I worry over my car, and that cosmetic damage. I worry over money, even when there's enough coming in (it's especially hard when I'm unemployed.) I'm anxious in traffic, because I can't control the idiots around me. On especially bad days, I worry about my husband, his entire family, all my friends, my sponsor, just up and abandoning me.
I know my fears of abandonment come from actually being temporarily abandoned, repeatedly, by my mother. She'd decide life is too hard or her emotions were too complicated or something, and just drive off. Yes, I'd be safe with someone (as a kid, as a teenager, I was the safe one for my sisters), but to see my mother just walk or drive off, without saying good bye or even saying she'd be back, scared (and scarred) me. We never even knew where she was going or if she'd be back. One minute she was there, the next, she was crying and walking out the door. After she attempted suicide on one of those outings, I worried all the more. There were times I wished she wouldn't come back, then I'd heap blame and shame on myself for those thoughts. "She is my mother!" I'd chide myself, "I hafta love her and want her." There are times that I wonder if her taking us storm chasing was actually self destructive behavior that endangered us kids or if it was a form of running away. I know the winter in Pennsylvania with her pen pal was running away. I later found out that she didn't tell Dad until either we were gone or until we got back. There are some memories there I need to uncover.
How does Step 2 help me find peace in stressful situations?
Just reminding myself that I don't hafta face this alone helps. Knowing that there is someone out there who knows all of my past, all of my secrets, and all of everything, and still loves me and won't leave me (well, it hasn't yet) is a scary and empowering thought. Just the idea of, even if everything goes to hell, I have something to fall back on, helps me stay sane. There is an image of myself in an exoskeleton, where the exoskeleton is the Great Divine, that helps me realize that even if I don't have the strength, the Great Divine does.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Emotions, Part 1
Last night, a friend caused me to have some emotional issues and I lost my serenity for a bit.
Every Saturday, we have a few friends over to play video games or watch anime or just hang out. Last night was an MMORPG that we've been playing quite frequently. We did several dungeons in game, then the friend that joins us online bowed out. The friend that caused the irritation then runs off and does something with his guild in game. No notification, no asking what the group plan was. Just drops the group he was physically with to go play with someone else.
It wouldn't have bothered me near as much if he had said something prior to dropping us. "Hey, I'm gonna go do a guild bounty and I'll be right back." I would've been cool with that, because it's quick and only can happen once a week. Instead, he drops us like a sack of rotten potatoes for his cool guildies.
I felt irritated that he didn't bother telling anyone until he did it. I felt frustrated that we apparently ranked second. I felt abandoned. I felt anger that he couldn't exhibit good manners. I felt shame, like it was somehow my fault he had ditched us. When my husband pulled inward and ignored everyone for a bit to deal with his frustration and anger, I felt alone.
To deal with it in a healthy way, I examined the emotions, one by one, and meditated. I took out the anger on things in game. I found my serenity, not by rationalizing away what he did, but by realizing it wasn't something I could control. It wasn't the first time this person had been a dick and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Every Saturday, we have a few friends over to play video games or watch anime or just hang out. Last night was an MMORPG that we've been playing quite frequently. We did several dungeons in game, then the friend that joins us online bowed out. The friend that caused the irritation then runs off and does something with his guild in game. No notification, no asking what the group plan was. Just drops the group he was physically with to go play with someone else.
It wouldn't have bothered me near as much if he had said something prior to dropping us. "Hey, I'm gonna go do a guild bounty and I'll be right back." I would've been cool with that, because it's quick and only can happen once a week. Instead, he drops us like a sack of rotten potatoes for his cool guildies.
I felt irritated that he didn't bother telling anyone until he did it. I felt frustrated that we apparently ranked second. I felt abandoned. I felt anger that he couldn't exhibit good manners. I felt shame, like it was somehow my fault he had ditched us. When my husband pulled inward and ignored everyone for a bit to deal with his frustration and anger, I felt alone.
To deal with it in a healthy way, I examined the emotions, one by one, and meditated. I took out the anger on things in game. I found my serenity, not by rationalizing away what he did, but by realizing it wasn't something I could control. It wasn't the first time this person had been a dick and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
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