Things

I feel a sort of disconnect from the recovery world vs. real life realm.
In truth, my recovery world and real life are meshing together so naturally, the Me Of Two Years Ago is peeing her pants a little, but the Me Of The Present feels so natural about it all that she wonders why everyone doesn't discuss the physiology of masturbation over a round of Ben & Jerry's (Karamel Sutra, anyone?)

In the way of updates, Danny worthily baptized our daughter -this is important, folks and friends, this is pivotal and important.  Her baptism day has always been this sort of unknown -a Future Event looming over our heads, neither of us knowing if she would be able to be baptized by her own father or not.
The day has come, and she was.  It was touching and highly emotional for our highly emotional and easily touched family.

I'm still wearing my ring, though we are still separated.

It's weird how this separation is working out.  While I wish I could transfer what's going on in my head to the confused heads of those around me, I know that GOD KNOWS what's going on and that's enough for now.
I like Danny.
I LOVE DANNY.
But I can not commit to living with him right now and sleep peacefully at night.  God knows it's not time for me.  I need more healing.

My trauma is like a bad batch of hormones -they aren't predictable, I don't understand them, and they pop up fully without welcome or warning.  I have NO CONTROL.

While I should be great friends with the idea of NO CONTROL by now... I'm not.  I'm getting there, and we have our moments... but true bonding hasn't occurred.  Not yet.  I understand the beauty in embracing a lack of control, but there are still aspects of it that really BUG me.
Trauma is one of those aspects.

I hate that trauma hits sometimes when Danny comes home 20 minutes late.  Logically, this is should only be mildly irritating IF THAT.  But for me?  It can be cataclysmic.
I hate watching trauma dovetail around me in rapid succession... faster than I can surrender it and find peace again, it hits, hits, hits.
I HATE THAT.

I feel controlled by trauma, though I know that isn't fully the case.
It FEELS true sometimes.

I keep thinking of the war in heaven.  I keep thinking about Satan's plan to force my hand.  I keep thinking how, when Danny was in the thick of his addiction, I thought Satan's plan was pretty genius, actually.
I keep thinking how the person I truly am in my core of cores refused Satan's plan because it employed a tactic I balked at: control.

I don't remember exactly what I felt, but my core does.  And my core balks at control.
It balked when I felt it in my marriage, and it balked when I tried to employ it toward my husband's addiction.

I'm feeling a cleansing of control in my life, so when trauma pops up and takes over, it just pisses me off in a big way.

It's good for me.  I'm learning from it and growing and finding out WHO I am and what I'm made of and in the meantime, I'm popping in to say that this blog -this super secretive blog -doesn't feel so secret anymore.
I'd love to get to know my readers more in real life and I'd love to send you a link to my other blog -the one where my recovery life (meaning my LIFE LIFE) is bleeding out all over the pages.
So reach out, if you want to, and come and meet my family.
I'll send you the link if you email me at brabadges@hotmail.com

Wishing you serenity in the present,
Alicia