Hi Old Friends, it continues to be dificult to find time to write. I actually have been spending a good deal of time reading and working. Maybe I have been sort of hibernating--and dealing with other family matters that I am not sure how much I've shared about before. I guess today is the day to share about those things. Mental Illness.
So, I know I blog pretty frequently about substance abuse and my own recovery from alcoholism. I sometimes write about my own struggles with depression. I dont think I write often about what it is like to live with a family member that has BiPolar Disorder. I actually hate the words, the diagnosis, the title and pretty much everything else that goes along with this insidious disease. What I think I hate the most is that you can't see it. When someone gets sick with diabetes you can test their blood sugar, you can read the numbers, you can help them change thier diet or take insulin. With this, and all mental health problems, family members are left trying to sort thru the emotional baggage of mental illness, denial, and (if you are like me) then you are in a nearly constant state of trying to figure out what is real.
When they said this was it them or their illness talking? When they did this was it them or their disease? And, by the way, how do we separate people from their illnesses when thier illnesses often seem to define their personality? I strange question maybe from someone who identifies herself as an alcoholic.
I am struggling. Can you hear me? Sitting here. Typing to myself, worrying, sorting thru memories, phone calls, events and trying to decipher the code that will help me understand just where this disease stops and my own Dad starts. I want to understand it but I it defies all of my attempts. All I am left with is the DSM defintions, symptoms, and prescriptions.
The DSM does not, for example, say what to do when your Dad is so depressed he wont get out of bed. It doesnt say what to do when he is so manic he calls and yells at you--saying things that are insensitive at best. I tell myself this is just his disease. I talk to my therapist, my mom, my sister, my husband. I tell myself this is not about me. I tell myself this is not my fault. I tell myself I cannot fix this.
Nothing I tell myself sinks in. I am lost, alone, and without one parent. I sit and wait for him to come back. Sometimes he does. Underneath the Lithium haze, behind the Imimpramine glitter, somewhere there is my Dad. The man who taught me to ride a bike in my backyard, the man who used to buy me hot chocolate at Dunkin Donuts and let me sit at the counter with him on early Saturday mornings,the man brought me to his office and let me sit with his secretary and learn to type, the man who was alive, funny, real. This was before the meds--maybe before the disease--this was a different time.
I dont have to tell you that I am older now. That of course things are different and of course I cant expect things to be the same. I dont have to tell you that it hurts or is confusing or even that it can be all consuming if I let it. I guess all I have to do is accept the pain and take it one day at a time. I lean on the AA slogans harder then before. I rework the same program that helps me stay sober. I remember that it is his disease talking not him. I truge along. I miss my Dad. xxK
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Green Bottles of Poison
Hi All,
It has been so long since I have found the time to write. Interestingly, I have spent a lot of time thinking. I had a conversation last night that openend my eyes again to how dangerous it can be for me to think my way into feeling better or doing better. I tend to end up in the same grooves that got me a chair in AA in the first place. It is interesing how easy it is to slide back into thinking the same old way. Even when I think I am really aware and working hard to change--when I am not paying attention--my brain just wants to go back to that thinking.
The indicator with me is an obsession with Self. They dont call it the bondage of self for nothing. It is true bondage to be stuck inside my own head, with my own distorted thinking, and my own old self-made solutions. No, not the drinking solution--but the isolating solution, or the shutting down solution, or the feeling sorry for myself solution, or the thinking i am better then or different solution. Terminal uniqueness. I hate being so predictably dysfunctional. Even my dysfunction wants to be special and different.
Despite the fact that my feelings feel quite unique and special to me, many or almost all of my characther defects link up quite nicely to the disease of alcoholism. A disease that I hope we all understand is only partly to do with the actual drinking and very much to do with the thinking that allows this self indulgence and self destruction to continue. My negative thoughts are really dangerous to me and my sobriety. Much more dangerous then I'd like to admit. My negative thoughts really are as dangerous to me (in the long term) as a bottle of Kettle One is sitting on my shelf (in the short term). At least the Kettle One bottle I am aware of and would probably do something about--either give away or pour out etc. The negative thinking is different bc it sort of settles in when I am not paying attention.
Next thing I know I am back isolating, feeling different, and cloaked in a melancholy that I believe is unique to me but really is not at all. Perhaps I should start to imagine my negative thinking as a big green bottle of poison (not Tanqueray but close). When I hear that familiar voice telling me no one really likes me or how what I just said was stupid or how I am worthless then I could visualize the big green bottle and go into action to break it. I need to get rid of that poison with the same intensity as the Kettle One on the shelf--call someone and get some help with those voices before they convince me that they are actually a part of me. What I have learned is that my disease can sound just like me--so much so that I sometimes mistake my disease talking to me for my true self. The difference is not tone but content. My true self does not tell me I am worthless or bad because deep down I know I am not either of those things.
For today, I am again exposing these voices to you all and to myself as I write--then I watch them shrivel up and disintegrate into the air like paper I burned up. I can give those voices credit for a nice try but I am lucky to have too many people on my side now. Those voices dont stand a chance when I have so many other smarter voices to listen to now. xxk
It has been so long since I have found the time to write. Interestingly, I have spent a lot of time thinking. I had a conversation last night that openend my eyes again to how dangerous it can be for me to think my way into feeling better or doing better. I tend to end up in the same grooves that got me a chair in AA in the first place. It is interesing how easy it is to slide back into thinking the same old way. Even when I think I am really aware and working hard to change--when I am not paying attention--my brain just wants to go back to that thinking.
The indicator with me is an obsession with Self. They dont call it the bondage of self for nothing. It is true bondage to be stuck inside my own head, with my own distorted thinking, and my own old self-made solutions. No, not the drinking solution--but the isolating solution, or the shutting down solution, or the feeling sorry for myself solution, or the thinking i am better then or different solution. Terminal uniqueness. I hate being so predictably dysfunctional. Even my dysfunction wants to be special and different.
Despite the fact that my feelings feel quite unique and special to me, many or almost all of my characther defects link up quite nicely to the disease of alcoholism. A disease that I hope we all understand is only partly to do with the actual drinking and very much to do with the thinking that allows this self indulgence and self destruction to continue. My negative thoughts are really dangerous to me and my sobriety. Much more dangerous then I'd like to admit. My negative thoughts really are as dangerous to me (in the long term) as a bottle of Kettle One is sitting on my shelf (in the short term). At least the Kettle One bottle I am aware of and would probably do something about--either give away or pour out etc. The negative thinking is different bc it sort of settles in when I am not paying attention.
Next thing I know I am back isolating, feeling different, and cloaked in a melancholy that I believe is unique to me but really is not at all. Perhaps I should start to imagine my negative thinking as a big green bottle of poison (not Tanqueray but close). When I hear that familiar voice telling me no one really likes me or how what I just said was stupid or how I am worthless then I could visualize the big green bottle and go into action to break it. I need to get rid of that poison with the same intensity as the Kettle One on the shelf--call someone and get some help with those voices before they convince me that they are actually a part of me. What I have learned is that my disease can sound just like me--so much so that I sometimes mistake my disease talking to me for my true self. The difference is not tone but content. My true self does not tell me I am worthless or bad because deep down I know I am not either of those things.
For today, I am again exposing these voices to you all and to myself as I write--then I watch them shrivel up and disintegrate into the air like paper I burned up. I can give those voices credit for a nice try but I am lucky to have too many people on my side now. Those voices dont stand a chance when I have so many other smarter voices to listen to now. xxk
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
the student becomes the teacher
hi all, no posts since Irene hit this area and caused some pretty serious flooding. our house was just fine but many of our neighbors are still not back to normal. all of this loss has really caused me to reflect--on everything. on what is important and what is not.
last night at work a young girl that i work with says--i just dont understand what the point of life is? we grow up, we pay bills and taxes, we die. i wanted to say something. i wanted to offer an opinion, or some possibilities even but i didnt. i just sat there and thought. shit, i get why she (at 16) does not understand what she thinks life is about but what is my excuse? what is the point of all of this?
i had in my head a whole assortment of thoughts. some buddhist stuff about how pain and suffering are part of life and how we can choose how we respond to it--what we make of it. i thought about some spiritual stuff like the purpose of life is to love. mainly though i just sat there and let the question float around us. a few other kids had similar questions and thoughts. it was hot and rainy. the generators were still on from the power outage from the hurricane. everyone was tired including me. in that moment things felt pretty grim.
about ten minutes later we left that building and saw the main lights on. the power had come back. everyone started clapping and was happy. grateful. myself included. the question though has stayed with me. what is my life's purpose? and how important is it to remember it when it is dark and challenging? my guess is that knowing ourselves and our life's purpose is very important.
i remember a book on addiction that said the people relapse for 2 reasons 1)denial creeps in and they convince themselves they no longer have a problem or 2) they know they have a problem but they lose the desire to stay sober. essentially, they feel hopeless about life and give up trying. the point of this was to illustrate how important spirituality is to recovery--we need to find meaning in life so that we dont give up on ourselves and retreat into the warm welcome numbness of hiding in alcohol or drugs or food or gambling or wherever else we like to hide.
so today i have committed myself to meditating and developing more of sense of my own purpose. more of a sense of what i am meant to do and what i can give back. sobriety is one gift that we really only get to keep by giving away. xxk
last night at work a young girl that i work with says--i just dont understand what the point of life is? we grow up, we pay bills and taxes, we die. i wanted to say something. i wanted to offer an opinion, or some possibilities even but i didnt. i just sat there and thought. shit, i get why she (at 16) does not understand what she thinks life is about but what is my excuse? what is the point of all of this?
i had in my head a whole assortment of thoughts. some buddhist stuff about how pain and suffering are part of life and how we can choose how we respond to it--what we make of it. i thought about some spiritual stuff like the purpose of life is to love. mainly though i just sat there and let the question float around us. a few other kids had similar questions and thoughts. it was hot and rainy. the generators were still on from the power outage from the hurricane. everyone was tired including me. in that moment things felt pretty grim.
about ten minutes later we left that building and saw the main lights on. the power had come back. everyone started clapping and was happy. grateful. myself included. the question though has stayed with me. what is my life's purpose? and how important is it to remember it when it is dark and challenging? my guess is that knowing ourselves and our life's purpose is very important.
i remember a book on addiction that said the people relapse for 2 reasons 1)denial creeps in and they convince themselves they no longer have a problem or 2) they know they have a problem but they lose the desire to stay sober. essentially, they feel hopeless about life and give up trying. the point of this was to illustrate how important spirituality is to recovery--we need to find meaning in life so that we dont give up on ourselves and retreat into the warm welcome numbness of hiding in alcohol or drugs or food or gambling or wherever else we like to hide.
so today i have committed myself to meditating and developing more of sense of my own purpose. more of a sense of what i am meant to do and what i can give back. sobriety is one gift that we really only get to keep by giving away. xxk
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
grace, dignity, and my ego
hi all,
today was a tough day at work for me. i made a mistake on friday--not a huge mistake but a mistake none the less and then i added to my own trouble but not admitting it straight away. the reason i didnt admit it right away is that i thought i was right. i was digging my heels in about being right when i was actually wrong. it sucks being wrong but being wrong when you really think you are right is the worst of all. i spent all weekend sort of mulling it over. i was initially angry. then more angry. then quitting. then just never going back. then writing a mean letter. then...then...i just stopped. i stopped thinking about it. i put it on hold. i let it sink in.
i went to work on monday. i tried to just be open. think clearly. stay strong but take ownership and be dignified. i tried not to act defensive or like a mad child. and it actually worked. i admitted my mistake. i apologized. i reflected on why i thought i hesitated to admit my mistake (my big fat ego who just loves to be right) and then i said i was sorry and that i would try to not let that mistake happen again. the result was not ground breaking but i did feel better and the situation seemed to improve. i felt that i had for once in my life accepted responsibility but not gone overboard. i mean i took ownership of my part but not anyone else's. also, i didnt feel scared or intimidated or bad. i felt like a strong and centered woman. not a girl but a woman.
i know that may sound silly considering i am 37 years old but the truth is that i dont always find it easy to actually use or own my power. i give it away all over the place when i am not paying attention. today, i paid attention. i kept my power. i was not afraid of it. i was not afraid at all. i learned a lesson tonite about mistakes and dignity and being an adult. it felt good to be an adult doing the right thing in front of kids who dont often see adults doing that or even trying to. this feeling of being proud of myself has been arriving more frequently lately as i work harder to be strong and real.
i am working on my body and my mind. i am eating right or trying to. i am exercising some--doing yoga mostly and trying to be aware of my body and breathing. i feel like finally i am learning how to be the person that i always wanted to be. i hope you are learning to be who you want to be too. i hope you are learning and not giving up and making mistakes and starting again. i hope we can all do this together. maybe just maybe we'll end up proud of ourselves...xx
today was a tough day at work for me. i made a mistake on friday--not a huge mistake but a mistake none the less and then i added to my own trouble but not admitting it straight away. the reason i didnt admit it right away is that i thought i was right. i was digging my heels in about being right when i was actually wrong. it sucks being wrong but being wrong when you really think you are right is the worst of all. i spent all weekend sort of mulling it over. i was initially angry. then more angry. then quitting. then just never going back. then writing a mean letter. then...then...i just stopped. i stopped thinking about it. i put it on hold. i let it sink in.
i went to work on monday. i tried to just be open. think clearly. stay strong but take ownership and be dignified. i tried not to act defensive or like a mad child. and it actually worked. i admitted my mistake. i apologized. i reflected on why i thought i hesitated to admit my mistake (my big fat ego who just loves to be right) and then i said i was sorry and that i would try to not let that mistake happen again. the result was not ground breaking but i did feel better and the situation seemed to improve. i felt that i had for once in my life accepted responsibility but not gone overboard. i mean i took ownership of my part but not anyone else's. also, i didnt feel scared or intimidated or bad. i felt like a strong and centered woman. not a girl but a woman.
i know that may sound silly considering i am 37 years old but the truth is that i dont always find it easy to actually use or own my power. i give it away all over the place when i am not paying attention. today, i paid attention. i kept my power. i was not afraid of it. i was not afraid at all. i learned a lesson tonite about mistakes and dignity and being an adult. it felt good to be an adult doing the right thing in front of kids who dont often see adults doing that or even trying to. this feeling of being proud of myself has been arriving more frequently lately as i work harder to be strong and real.
i am working on my body and my mind. i am eating right or trying to. i am exercising some--doing yoga mostly and trying to be aware of my body and breathing. i feel like finally i am learning how to be the person that i always wanted to be. i hope you are learning to be who you want to be too. i hope you are learning and not giving up and making mistakes and starting again. i hope we can all do this together. maybe just maybe we'll end up proud of ourselves...xx
Thursday, July 28, 2011
the real k
anyway, so today i had coffee with an old friend. i missed her so much it made me want to cry seeing her. it was so much fun to just talk. it made me think about healthy relationships and how easy it is to know when things are right because they feel right. you leave a good friend and feel happy. you go to yoga and leave feeling strong, clear, good. good and healthy things actually make me feel good and...yes, healthy. it is unfamiliar territory for me sometimes but it is starting to be easier for me to connect the dots, do the math. doing the right thing and being with people who also do the right thing feels so fucking good.
i used to not think that. i used to only relate to people not doing the right thing. secrets. drama. mystery. etc. give me someone cheating on their boyfriend, husband, someone hating their job, someone hating their life and i immmediately and instantly liked this person. truth be told i am not sure i liked them or just liked how i felt around them. i.e. normal. their insanity mirrored my own and it felt comfortable to be around--it felt exhilirating--the way that roller coaster rides do--only maybe better. when i was drinking i craved this adrenaline fueled relationship, friendship, life. it felt just so right to feel wrong. i didnt get it at all. i thought i had it all figured out.
it took a long time for me to get this. but i am going to tell you here. it is not more fun to use drugs and drink then it is to be sober. you dont feel happier or better using then you do sober. i guess you might think you are having more fun, and maybe there were times on martini 3 that i thought i was happy but here is the trick--i was not actually happy. when i woke up the next day--happiness was nowhere to be found. you dont find happiness when you cant remember where you were, what you said, or who you talked to. you cant find it bc it is not there.
so, if any of you who are reading this are drinking. are thinking of stopping. or are thinking of starting. take it from me that happiness really is the byproduct of right action. i heard it in AA 7 years ago. wrote it on yellow post its and posted that shit all over my apt. i had that phrase everywhere--and still today i return to it. i am doing the right thing and...yes, i am sort of, well, happy. i hope you are too. xxk
i used to not think that. i used to only relate to people not doing the right thing. secrets. drama. mystery. etc. give me someone cheating on their boyfriend, husband, someone hating their job, someone hating their life and i immmediately and instantly liked this person. truth be told i am not sure i liked them or just liked how i felt around them. i.e. normal. their insanity mirrored my own and it felt comfortable to be around--it felt exhilirating--the way that roller coaster rides do--only maybe better. when i was drinking i craved this adrenaline fueled relationship, friendship, life. it felt just so right to feel wrong. i didnt get it at all. i thought i had it all figured out.
it took a long time for me to get this. but i am going to tell you here. it is not more fun to use drugs and drink then it is to be sober. you dont feel happier or better using then you do sober. i guess you might think you are having more fun, and maybe there were times on martini 3 that i thought i was happy but here is the trick--i was not actually happy. when i woke up the next day--happiness was nowhere to be found. you dont find happiness when you cant remember where you were, what you said, or who you talked to. you cant find it bc it is not there.
so, if any of you who are reading this are drinking. are thinking of stopping. or are thinking of starting. take it from me that happiness really is the byproduct of right action. i heard it in AA 7 years ago. wrote it on yellow post its and posted that shit all over my apt. i had that phrase everywhere--and still today i return to it. i am doing the right thing and...yes, i am sort of, well, happy. i hope you are too. xxk
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
You heard it first here
Today is Tuesday. I managed to write yesterday despite feeling so boxed up and tight and closed that it took effort and some luck to get a single word out. Today is the opposite. Today I feel more open. More ready to face things. I looked outside this morning at the Hydrangeas. They dared me to be sad, to feel sorry for myself, to feel inadequate--while still taking them in. Of course they won. Sitting there looking at the plump angels play with the big insane blueness behind them--all of them blooming for me. All of my gifts in front of me. The Universe seemed to be saying--Is it really that bad? Is life really hard or really easy? Only I get to decide. Today I choose easy. Today I choose faith in the dirt, in the rain, in the babies with their sticky hot bodies, and in the people, my people--wandering around here, like me, and like him, confused, trying, being ok, just for another day, hanging on as the earth spins around. xx
Box of Darkness and Other Gifts
Hi All. Yes, it has been a long time. Summer is here and life is busy. Things are going ok. I have been working more and going to meetings and being in the sun and playing w/ the kids and basically enjoying the ease that warm weather and sunshine brings to the Catskills. Last night I got some scary news about a family member. It got me twisted up good. All of my fears resurfaced. Many bigger and scarier then before. So I am writing about them I guess. My fears. My fear of losing people that I love. One person. My fear of not being in control. I'm not. My fear of making mistakes. I do. My fear of not being able to protect my children from my mistakes, from pain, from life. I can't.
I sit here. Typing. Afraid. Alone. Not alone. Connected. Then disconnected. Moment to moment. Changing. Thoughts racing by like clouds. One then the other moving so fast and then seeming to not move at all. I vascillate between feeling empowered and totally powerless. I dont understand what I am supposed to do or how. I wait for answers. I act anyway. I try. I hold my baby boy. I feel his plump arms and legs. His solid body and smell is sweaty hair. I feel connected and alive and ok. I feel like crying. I cant cry. I just hold him. I hold him and wonder what will happen next.
I sit here. Typing. Afraid. Alone. Not alone. Connected. Then disconnected. Moment to moment. Changing. Thoughts racing by like clouds. One then the other moving so fast and then seeming to not move at all. I vascillate between feeling empowered and totally powerless. I dont understand what I am supposed to do or how. I wait for answers. I act anyway. I try. I hold my baby boy. I feel his plump arms and legs. His solid body and smell is sweaty hair. I feel connected and alive and ok. I feel like crying. I cant cry. I just hold him. I hold him and wonder what will happen next.
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