Hi Friends,
Tonite I was thinking about a few different things while sitting at yet another of many AA meetings. I was thinking about how increadibly quickly I can default my crazy alcoholic brain into feeling sorry for myself. Given recent events in my life it probably is obvious that I have a lot of material to work with lately...and that is when it hit me. Self pity IS my alcoholism in action. When I start feeling sorry for myself I am immediatley transported to self centeredness and victimhood. It is not a fun place to visit let alone spend any amount of time. It is in fact very isolating to really feel sorry for yourself because to do it really well you need to be certain that you are in a uniquely painful position. I will convince myself that my pain is unique and different in order to really wallow. Why? Because feeling sorry for myself only really is possible for me if I first convince myself that no one else really even can understand my pain, let alone relate to it.
To really get my expertise on this topic you would have had to see me in action after 3 or 4 martinis back in 2000. At this point in my life and after this amount of alcohol I was sure to tell anyone who would listen about my particular family drama, my victimhood, my terrible job, mean boss, and downright sad life. I told these stories to myself outloud and in my head. I told these stories about my pain that made my pain unique and different. I had special pain and you would surely drink too if you had my exact sort of pain...
And so it went. I drank and drank and then drank some more. Thought endlessly about my life, things that had "happened to me" was my narrative. Rarely did I talk about my own choices. Rarely did I pontificate on how my own choices had impacted my life. Instead, I choose to think about and talk about how other people's choices had impacted me. I sort of pretended that my life was the sum of other people's choices. I sort of believed this.
Today, I know that my thinking back then was...unhealthy. I can see clearly that I do have choices. I dont always have choices about what happens around me but I do have very big and important choices to make about how I respond to what happens around me. I have a choice about the story that I tell myself and the story that I tell you too. So what will my story be? Will I tell you that my Dad took his own life to hurt me? Will I say it was mean? Awful? Hurtful? No, I will not. I will tell you that my Dad suffered from a chronic mental illness called BiPolar Disorder that, like most mental illness, got more severe and destructive as he aged. I will tell you that I am lucky he somehow lasted 74 years despite chronic thoughts of despair and hopelessness. I will say that he waited until he knew that both me and my sister were ok and then he finally ended his own pain. I will say that even his final decision to jump out of this pain was colored, if not determined, by an illness that I can only hope and pray I will never truly understand. This is my story and this is what I will say. xxxK
Tonite I was thinking about a few different things while sitting at yet another of many AA meetings. I was thinking about how increadibly quickly I can default my crazy alcoholic brain into feeling sorry for myself. Given recent events in my life it probably is obvious that I have a lot of material to work with lately...and that is when it hit me. Self pity IS my alcoholism in action. When I start feeling sorry for myself I am immediatley transported to self centeredness and victimhood. It is not a fun place to visit let alone spend any amount of time. It is in fact very isolating to really feel sorry for yourself because to do it really well you need to be certain that you are in a uniquely painful position. I will convince myself that my pain is unique and different in order to really wallow. Why? Because feeling sorry for myself only really is possible for me if I first convince myself that no one else really even can understand my pain, let alone relate to it.
To really get my expertise on this topic you would have had to see me in action after 3 or 4 martinis back in 2000. At this point in my life and after this amount of alcohol I was sure to tell anyone who would listen about my particular family drama, my victimhood, my terrible job, mean boss, and downright sad life. I told these stories to myself outloud and in my head. I told these stories about my pain that made my pain unique and different. I had special pain and you would surely drink too if you had my exact sort of pain...
And so it went. I drank and drank and then drank some more. Thought endlessly about my life, things that had "happened to me" was my narrative. Rarely did I talk about my own choices. Rarely did I pontificate on how my own choices had impacted my life. Instead, I choose to think about and talk about how other people's choices had impacted me. I sort of pretended that my life was the sum of other people's choices. I sort of believed this.
Today, I know that my thinking back then was...unhealthy. I can see clearly that I do have choices. I dont always have choices about what happens around me but I do have very big and important choices to make about how I respond to what happens around me. I have a choice about the story that I tell myself and the story that I tell you too. So what will my story be? Will I tell you that my Dad took his own life to hurt me? Will I say it was mean? Awful? Hurtful? No, I will not. I will tell you that my Dad suffered from a chronic mental illness called BiPolar Disorder that, like most mental illness, got more severe and destructive as he aged. I will tell you that I am lucky he somehow lasted 74 years despite chronic thoughts of despair and hopelessness. I will say that he waited until he knew that both me and my sister were ok and then he finally ended his own pain. I will say that even his final decision to jump out of this pain was colored, if not determined, by an illness that I can only hope and pray I will never truly understand. This is my story and this is what I will say. xxxK
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