My alcoholism got to the point where I never knew what I truly felt. I was always having emotions, then trying to figure out where they came from. Anger could always be justified. Laziness was rationalized. Self-pity was mandatory. How often was I matching the emotion with its origin? Not very.
We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
Which leads directly into hopelessness. My connections were bad. I’d broken off my toggles. Every day a train was approaching, and I could never figure out which track it was on.
A sent email not responded to in a timely fashion triggered feelings of inadequacy, worry, self-loathing, confusion, disrespect, anger, revenge, hate. All within 15 minutes. I could carry it across a wide spectrum, like a nurse with a newborn, until it was all grown up and filled with over-sized beliefs.
Today, I realize: Maybe the person’s at lunch. Or in the bathroom. Or in a meeting. Not a meeting where they and others are plotting against me, but an everyday, run-of-the-mill, REAL meeting.
May I always remember: Fictionalizing people’s bad intentions or hidden secrets snow-globes my reality. And I’m sick and tired of being out it the cold.