Getting Real

I have a new sponsor, and her name is Rhyll (sounds like "real").

As a word person, I'm getting carried away with the whole thing.
"Sorry I missed your call, I was on the phone with my sponsor," I text my husband.
"How was it?" he'll text back.
"Rhylly good."

And then I giggle out loud for no one but myself to hear.

Two weeks ago, I attended a group meeting online.  Rhyll was in attendance and she said something I wanted to share with you (with her permission).

"As children we are taught not to be mad, and we are taught that it is our job to fix others."

As she spoke, I had a  (get ready for this because I haven't even typed it and I'm already giggling) Rhyllization.

Yes!  Yes, that IS exactly what I was taught.  And the dysfunctional flip-side of that is simply that I shove my anger down and then expect OTHERS to fix me.  At least, I used to.  How many emails did I send, venting blaming anger?  How many phone calls did I make?
My friends would help fix me.  They would give advice, offer suggestions, validate my emotions.

The things I was upset about weren't always huge, but when you're dealing with trying to cope with a sexual addiction in the home and have no resources or help and then someone does something untoward like PUKE or ring the doorbell, it's a small travesty.

You know what I mean...

And in those moments, I'd call my friends and unload -not about the addiction, never about the addiction!  It was the Voldemort of Mormon Mommyhood!  Instead I would vent about the stain on the carpet and the small drama of this or that.  It always seemed so much bigger than it really was, and I knew why.  I knew it was because of the addiction, but denial was the ruler of those days.  So I'd whine into my keyboard or cell phone and my friends on the other line would validate me.

Never turning to my Savior.
Never landing on my knees.
Never surrendering.

In turn, I saved my friends in their hours of need.  I was always available to fix their issues and problems.  I had answers!  I had advice!  I knew what they needed! 

Today I lie in a mist I like to call "My Socrates Phase."
I don't know what anyone really needs.  I have no answers.  I know I know nothing. 

I'm working on surrendering my control issues.
I'm working on surrendering my loneliness and subsequent temptations to attach to old men (don't ask... or do, since talking about it helps).
I'm working on surrendering my fear of man.
I'm trying to surrender my tendencies to self-medicate with food and escape.

How do I surrender?  On my knees, on the phone, in the box!
I'm finding my small child-self coming back out as I discover my true identity as a Child of God, and as this transformation takes place, I see a prime opportunity to RETEACH myself something:

It's okay to be angry, and I am not the Savior.

Here's to putting down the magnifying glass and picking up my mirror!
Here's to putting down the Oreos and picking up the carrots!
Here's to surrender box shopping!
Here's to more Rhyllizations!