SA 12-Step Group

I was just reading back to some of my earlier posts from last Fall, where I was talking about hubby finally going to SA meetings and how I predicted they would not last. Well, lo and behold it did not last more than a few months! LOL! I noticed there was one post where I wrote that he said the group was helping him, which is cracking me up because now he says the group is useless ( I won't get into all his excuses/they don't matter anyway). I think I am going to work on keeping up this blog better. It will help me keep track of his lies and remind me why I need to get out of this situation whenever I am thinking it is no big deal and I can stick it out for longer. Ugh.

He was in sucking up mode 2 weeks ago until a coworker died suddenly in a car accident and he crashed and burned into full on Asshole Addict mode and has continued ever since. Lately he aims his agitation at my teen-age daughter, probably because he knows I just won't let him get away with it any more. He hurls F-words at her like nobody's business. Remind me again why I think this is good for my 4 yr. old and 1 yr. old????

On describing myself (reference 7/17/07 post)

I keep coming back to that dreaded "describe yourself" question from my therapist last month...it occurred to me what Buddha might say about describing myself. I'm going to take a stab at it:

Buddha would say that my "self" is just an illusion that I create. It is intangible, everchanging and ultimately undescribable.

HA! Take THAT Therapist Man!

And though I doubt that is the answer he was looking for, it is probably as true of an answer as there could ever be.

Mixed Emotions

My heart is heavy tonight. Today I made contact with my first true love via myspace. It was so, so, so long ago--we dated the summer before my junior year in high school. But he had such an impact on me. It was wonderful to chat with him, see a pic of his kids (his son looks just like him!), and I got that triumphant moment of glory every person hopes for sometime in life following a devastating break-up: he told me he regretted breaking up with me and how much he had enjoyed the time we spent together, though it was only a few months time over 20 years ago. But now, I am bummed. His marriage is falling apart, as is mine, and I feel sorry for us both. There is bittersweetness in thinking of what could have been, had we not been so young and immature. And of course, I wouldn't change a thing anyway because (as anyone who ever saw Peggy Sue Got Married knows) I wouldn't give up my children for the ability to make the past turn out (possibly/possibly not) happier in some way.

I suppose as my mind drifts back to a time so long ago, and I look at photos of myself from then and talk to someone who knew and cared about me at that time...well, I just feel so very far away from my heart. Bodeans wrote a painfully excellent song on this theme, Far, Far Away From My Heart:

Well the feeling's coming on again
Like a whisper that's knocking down a doorway
And everything it says I just believe
And I fear that I'm nothing and alone
So I pour another drink and take a hit
And I wonder where the smoke goes
And I'm feeling more and more like less and less
And it comes from so far down deep inside
But you can't get to it no matter what you try

And I'm far, far away from my heart
Far, far away from my heart

It's just a voice that's bent on telling me I'm too good
And there really is a shortcut
And I've been through this so many nights before
That you'd think it would be easier by now
So I let the chemical reaction cloud over
The pain that keeps on hurting
As I slowly, but too slowly drift away
To a place where I know I don't have to think
God I hate myself all over so more I drink

And I'm far, far away from my heart
Far, far away from my heart

And now I'm staring blankly at the TV
Holding this guitar for some comfort
But it's so hard to write a simple song
And try to turn this feeling into melody
So I put it down get on my knees
Close my eyes real tight now I'm praying
To anyone that maybe can hear me
Tell me everything will be ok
And I don't think I can make another day
And I'm far, far away from my heart
Far, far away from my heart


I just don't know how my life came to this dark place, this confusion, this morass that I can't seem to extricate myself from. There is no solution. Every option is not a choice I want to make, and yet I have to choose something different than where I am at now. Oh, to be that innocent 15 year old girl again, so confident in true love, so sure of what I wanted, so optimistic about the future. I want to go home, back to Phoenix, and begin to put my life together, put myself back in that place where joy and optimism dwell. They say you can never go home; is this what they mean??? And if I can never go home, can home come back to me, back to my heart? Can I find my way back to my heart?

p.s.

I'm still not entirely sure how to describe myself. Confused? Check. Sporadically manic-depressive? Probably.

Oh, that reminds me, one of the goals of going to group therapy is that they (the group) are supposed to be able to help me figure out why I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Take advantage of me NOW. PLEASE!" I'm not sure if it's some kind of Harry Potter magic trick or what, but that is the golden promise and allure of going to group.

And speaking of Harry Potter...I was thinking the other day that if what's her name (my mind is going completely blank but you all know who I am talking about) could go from welfare mom to bazillion dollar author just by writing a bunch of big, long books about a teen-age boy and some magic, then maybe there is hope for me to turn my life around yet! ROWLING, that's it. J.K. Rowling. Though if I was going to write a book with some magic in it, you can bet the magic wouldn't be wasted on teenagers at Hogwart's or stupid witches and warlocks. B-O-R-I-N-G. If I created a magical kingdom, there would be magic housecleaning fairies and laundry goblins and pixie dust that turns into cash. The only problem with my magical kingdom is that it would be VERY sparsely populated because no fucking ignorant stupid people would be allowed. So that would leave about six people on the planet and no men, so there would have to be some kind of magical sex slave being for the six women in the magical kingdom. And since children are a pain most of the time, but sometimes very cute and life-enriching, there would be children allowed in my kingdom but they would not be able to yell, scream, talk back, or make messes due to the magical spell cast upon them at birth. (Also they self-clean and regenerate lost toys.)

Hmmmmm...maybe I am on to something here!

Yuppiehood and rambling...

My $95-an-hour (*note: one hour in English=45 minutes in therapish) therapist recommends that I start going to one of his new group meetings ($40 per meeting), along with meeting with a social worker in his office who specializes in spouses of men w/porn addiction (cha-ching!). I was driving to my appt. yesterday, through this crime-ridden neighborhood where the therapist's office is, and thinking what a freaking yuppie loser I have become. Only a self-absorbed yuppie dork would be spending so much time and money on such a self-absorbed pastime as personal mental health. Honestly, we are lucky in this country that all poor people do for the most part is drink, do drugs and kill each other, because I am assuming that they can't afford good psychiatry and their lives must be much more of a pain in the ass than mine is. How do they do it? How do they survive in the world of $6/hour jobs with no health insurance and childcare is $150 per week and gas is $3 per gallon...yeah all the math doesn't add up, that's for sure.

Regardless, it still sucks to be married to a porn junkie and it sucks to live in Kentucky and it sucks to be fat even when you don't really eat a lot. And it REALLY sucks to be doing yuppie stuff when you're not even really in that league financially and don't really put yourself there mentally. Is this what a mid-life crisis is all about? You wake up one day and realize that everything you ever thought you knew was a complete load of shit and you wasted 20 some-odd years of your life in a misguided trance headed nowhere? Is it ever too late to fix it all?

Hate

"He insulted me, he hurt me, he defeated me, he robbed me."
Those who think such things will not be free from hate.


-Buddha From "Sayings of the Buddha: Reflections for Every Day", by William Wray, 2004. Reprinted by arrangement with Arcturus Publishing, London. Book available in the U.S. through Barnes & Noble, www.bn.com


I need to keep reminding myself this! So many assholes in this world, so much anger, so much time suckage...

shrink

I had an appointment today with my first decent psychiatrist; as in $95 per hour, not covered by insurance, full-blown expensive decency. Things were going alright, he was giving me something called a clinical interview (I guess to determine all the juicy details of my past and what my personal inventory of mental issues might be), and then he asked me to describe myself. What? It felt like one of those sneaky job interview questions that you’re not quite prepared for, the crucial one that determines offer or no offer, the one where the interviewer gleefully looks into your eyes as if it was the most simple question in the world, but in your mind the question translates roughly as: If the square root of the hypotenuse coagulates at a 43 degree angle, will WMD appear in Iraq, cubed?

I faltered. My mind hazed over and I found myself muttering something lame about how I am outgoing, um something, something, something. Could you repeat the question? Describe myself in what way exactly; height, weight, eye color? No. He apparently sensed I was floundering and asked me if I like myself. Well, yeah, I suppose. And it occurred to me as I was driving home afterward that at the ripe old age of 37 I apparently haven’t got a clue how to describe myself. Which means, roughly, I don’t know who I am. I guess that also means there will be a lot more appointments to come, right? Gotta sort that kind of thing out in a hurry…