Day 32
Posted on | September 30, 2009 | 1 Comment
as written January 18, 2008
There are 3 brothers that run the Ranch, and then there is: The Woman. Her name is Kris. Brent spoke about her in reverenced tones from nearly the moment he was admitted, and my first response was total jealousy. How could this woman earn the trust of my husband in like TWO DAYS, and get him to spill everything honestly, when I had been fighting for the same thing for years? Unfair unfair unfair. “That’s MY job,” I thought to myself with clenched teeth.
Then she called me. Me. And asked how I was doing. Didn’t talk about Brent. She wanted to know all about me. How I was feeling. How I was coping. What kind of support group did I have around me. She didn’t even mention Brent…and as much as I wanted to know what she thought about his “prognosis,” it was a bit unsettling how relieving it was for someone to be focused on me. She acted like no one existed in the world but she and I, and I had never even met her. She didn’t know me from Adam. Yet suddenly I felt acknowledged, listened to, and a little less alone. She invited me to Family Group, and mentioned that in order to do so, I needed to attend Al-Anon, find a Sponsor, and if possible, another outside source of therapy for myself. I found myself re-energized, I HAD A MISSION. A focus. A new outlet for my unbearable pain. Something TO DO, God yes, something TO DO. I had tried everything and anything else a million times over with spectacularly failed results. I had run out of options. Ways to try to FIX THIS THING AND GET MY LIFE BACK. The life I had signed up for. And here she was, giving me new options. I didn’t even stop to think if I agreed with them or not, they were just new. I grasped at it with fervor and relief.
And so, I went. In the bitter wind and cold of this godforsaken Utah winter, I found my way to Family Group. Rehab for me, I thought bitterly as I sat in my car, nervous and unsure. Alone. Alone. Alone…
Took a deep breath and walked inside. I heard laughter from downstairs, and when I stepped into the room, I felt strange and alienated. “I’m totally in the wrong place,” I thought. “These people are laughing. They’re happy. Their situation must not be as bad as mine.” (wow. Holy shit am I self righteous. But seriously? I couldn’t imagine that people would be happy if their realities were anything like mine). Am I in the wrong place? They all knew each other, it seemed, all great friends and I felt very much like an outsider. An outsider who was carrying her pain like a thousand pound brick on her back. I saw no other bricks; at least, none that were obvious to me. There was a chair closest to the exit, and that’s where I sat; on edge, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
Knowing that this was a place where I was supposed to bring/share/deal with my pain, and that others were here (supposedly) who knew how I felt – my agony had ripped its way out of the leather holster I tried to contain it in, and shot off numerous rounds in that tiny room. They sounded so loud, and I couldn’t believe no one could hear them. For the life of me, I could not pretend here…
My grief was uncontainable. I felt like a lit 4th of July sparkler; a bright star of fire that shot off uncontrollably, and landed on those sitting close to me. I was literally surprised that no one turned around to say, “Please keep your shit to yourself. I’m burned enough as it is.”
That night was a celebration of sorts, with mingling and food and happy voices. I wanted to leave. Then The Woman approached me, and the power of her spirit cut through all my metal defenses and took up permanent residence in the center of my heart. In five seconds flat.
This Woman has been here. This Woman knows. This Woman has answers. This Woman…can help me.
That was the voice that echoed through the anguish. And I held on to it with all I had, for I had nothing left.
During the short lecture portion of group, she talked about how we were there to talk about ourselves. Not to bitch about the addict that had ruined our lives. I even smiled at that one. She talked about how “chemical dependency cannot progress without enabling behavior from the codependent.” That struck a cord. CANNOT PROGRESS. It made me wonder how I had contributed. I had contributed to this? Mmm….not sure how I feel about that. Also mentioned was that codependents have more behavioral issues than chemical dependencies. That made sense.
The Woman talked about her love for books, and in that respect I felt right at home. I’m a book whore. Not ashamed to admit it. So I wrote down every book she mentioned, and started my TO DO list which substantially reduced my anxiety and helplessness. Like books have all the answers, or something. But again, when you have nothing? You’ll do almost anything to fill yourself up again.
The moment group was over, and everyone started to get up and love on one another again, I was out. I’m out. No need to get all friendly and try and get to know new people. I don’t have the energy…
Walked to the car in the frigid dark and drove home shaking from the cold.
But somewhere, somewhere…I felt warm. Some small place inside, almost unnoticeable…
Hope.
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October 27th, 2009 @ 10:22 am
Wow! I love that you have the words to describe Kris and that firs night. Beautiful I could totally feel my 1st nigh again!