Put on a Show

My nearly 18-month old doesn't care for watching the television.
Unless the movie "Frozen" is on.

With Frozen, she's RIVETED.  She sings, she claps, she focuses and rests.  I should be sick of it by now, but I'm not.
When I hear, "Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show," it reminds to do JUST THE OPPOSITE.

I know that it's okay to feel, to have bad days, to be triggered, and to spend some time sobbing my guts up.  I know it because I've heard it.  I've said it.  I believe it.

But sometimes.
I don't.
DO it.

Why?  Because I'm afraid.
I'm afraid if I call my safe recovery people and blubber into the phone, they'll roll their eyes and think I'm gigantic weak baby.
Wah, wah.
I can practically hear my Dad's voice, "It's all in your head, 'leasha."

This last week has been so helly.  So awfully.  So darky.  So many ys.

AND THROUGH IT ALL I was trying to just be strong, to eat right, take care of myself and be perfect... I was trying to HANDLE IT instead of surrender it.
I did surrender some, but man.  MAN.  Not nearly enough.

Did you know that on Wednesday I ate amazingly?  I struggle with stress eating, and on Wednesday -one of the worst days this week -I ate nearly perfectly.  Better than I eat when I'm not in trauma!

I somehow excuse myself from the "progress not perfection" motto and strive -and refuse to settle for anything less than -perfection.  I must and will handle everything perfectly.

I vented on facebook.  I talked to my sister.  I talked a little with my mom.  I called my sponsor once.
I talked with my other sponsor once.
And I emailed.

So I REACHED OUT, right?
I did, RIGHT?!?!

But did I?  Did I actually?  Did I actually PICK UP A PHONE and let myself FEEL?  Did I take some time to let the tears fall when they began welling up?
I am here to say that this past week, I shoved them down.  I didn't call as much as I should have.

Calling makes ALL the difference, but my shame kept me from punching in numbers.

What if they're busy?
What if I bother them?
What if they think I'm whiny?
What if I come across as weak?
WHAT IF THEY HATE ME?!?!?!
And 'round and 'round the trauma goes.

Today my sponsor gently reminded me to REACH OUT and call and to work the steps harder and really, Alicia, REALLY... FEEL.  And it's okay to feel.  It's okay to have a bad week because they will come.  It's okay to struggle and cry and SOB until there's nothing left to shove down.
People may think you're crazy, but call anyway.

GET OUT OF THE TRAUMA.
REACH OUT.

FEEL.  Make one wrong move, and let it shine.  Let people see your messiness, and you might be pleasantly surprised at just how much you're LOVED in your brokenness.
When Danny doesn't let me see his struggles, I don't feel as safe, as open... but when he pours his broken soul out, I settle into it.
Why am I denying myself the same chance of acceptance from other women?

And just to get us started:
I'm terrified of making mistakes in recovery, of having to be accountable for them, of letting others down by showing weakness (?what the what?  I don't get myself).
I'm also realizing that I thought I was patient and nice and aware of others. And the more recovery I work, the more I realize I'm bold, impatient, unaware of those around me, frank, forward, and not quiet.
It's hard because I've fought against it my whole life.  Trying to accept that I'm a deep FEELER, a loud TALKER, and a bold, frank woman is scary.
I wanted to badly to be quiet.
To not be the kind of woman who blogs her life but sits quietly and reservedly and gently.

But God has other things in mind for me, and I can't seem to stay away from glass-house living (blogging).  I can't stop talking, I can't stop being BALLS TO THE WALL RECOVERY GIRL (pretty sure I need a cape.  And possibly someone to draw me thus).

I'm just me.
Imperfect.
And presently full of healthy chocolate cake.
Blogging in the middle of a messy house.
Even though guests are coming over in 30 minutes.
It's all okay though because I'm the queen of procrastination, and gosh dang it ALL if this house won't look presentable in 15 minutes.

And in the meantime, here's the only thing I can grow in my flower bed.

 

Tonight I'll probably put the kids to bed and watch a tear-jerker for the sake of letting some trapped tears OUT.

Although honestly, with my kids around, sometimes I'm laughing too hard to cry.  I mean, LOOK at that baby ^^^