I used to write so much more on this blog. I had so much to say, so much to share.
These days I'm hard-pressed to find words.
What can I say that needs to be said?
I've been in recovery longer now than I had been a year ago, surely that warrants more shares. Only I find I've come farther and found I'm quite at the beginning.
The more I work recovery, the more I find there is to work.
How can I help others when I have no idea what The Lord has in mind for them?
Each day... EACH day I face my own character defects, and my soul is filled with the desire to surrender. Sometimes I successfully surrender, sometimes I don't have the faith necessary to surrender completely.
In this state of perpetual pride -one I which I fear I will exist quite indefinitely -I am humbled at least to the point of knowing that I have no answers.
Four days ago, I felt the beautiful, blessed serenity that has come from working recovery daily. My shoulders relaxed, my mind at ease. I felt myself being present and appreciated more fully God's supernal blessings.
I had enough.
I was enough.
And then, three days ago, I was hit with a shame trigger that uprooted it all. I began blaming and feeling like a victim of circumstances. All too suddenly, I didn't have enough, and I wasn't even close to being enough.
I called my sponsor to surrender the shame.
I prayed. And still... I felt myself turn completely and utterly inside, unaware of God's peace. I was hurt easily by any cat that looked at me crossways.
Two days ago, it lingered. Still I prayed, still I faltered.
Yesterday, I just made it to the end of the day before breaking into the kind of tears that make your body shake and require some kind of rough work to get them all out for the moment.
I took a scrubber pad to my dishes, and my dishes caught all of my pain, all of my tears.
Who could I call?
I made a list in my mind, only dismiss it and beg God for what I desired and knew only He could offer.
Take sesh this pain.
Danny held me as my tears tapered off, validating my pain which wasn't addiction-related at all, but family of origin related. Can you relate? Yes... Families are the greatest sources of deep emotion, aren't they?
Shame is so powerful. I make decisions from a shameful place.
I know I shouldn't, and I also know that I do it without realizing it. And I've BEEN DOING IT for years. and I didn't realize it until I'd been in recovery for FIVE years.
When I feel shame, I blame. When I'm blaming, I'm a victim.
I recognized my tendency toward victimization two years ago, and only recently did I tie it to the root... And that root is shame.
The farther in get into the puzzles of me, the more puzzle pieces I find.
I seemed to know so much more a few years ago, had more to offer, more answers.
I know now that I have a few answers for myself and they do not coincide with everyone else's answers. What's more... The answers I do have are slim it fierce and carry me through the answers I don't have which are looming at best and threatening at worst,
What do I have to say?
Not much. And that's a heck of a change from a girl who can't be bothered with silence much.
(My computer cord was viciously mangled by my dog, so I'm typing from my iPad which always ends up messy. Forgives us, won'tcha?)