It’s Monday morning and as I drive my commute, I go through a checklist of things I need to get done, and what’s happening during the upcoming week. My alcoholism also wants to decide what needs to be obsessed about: what hasn’t been dwelled on for awhile? What hasn’t been upsetting me that should be upsetting me? What don’t I like about my _______ again? Oh, yeah, that’s right. Concentrate on the badness and then let it go, but only in a hopeless, barnacle on the back of my head kind of way.
Ugh, and I’ve got a meeting tonight.
The things I let go of yesterday are sitting outside my front door. Each morning I see them. Most mornings I walk by them, jump in my car and head to work with the understanding that they will be sitting on my desk when I arrive.
Acknowledging that these resentments and paranoias and fears are still present doesn’t mean I’m failing, nor that the program isn’t doing its part. It means for another day I need to see these things for what they are, get myself right-sized, and leave them on the ground. I’m too busy today to spend hours trying to lift that heavy crap.
That said, simply ignoring the problems doesn’t make them go away. They need to be pointed at, seen for what they are and let go of; deflated, removed. Until these things don’t affect me consciously or subconsciously, and I am still affected by those resentments, those jealousies, those angers, there will never be anything close to true peace.
Because I’m lying to myself, whistling past the graveyard, not really, truly, believing that letting go is the best thing for me. Dropping my guard is like giving everyone the green light by way of my white flag. What a horrible mindset to live in: assuming everyone’s waiting for me to be out of sight or earshot before revealing their true natures. It’s a disturbing disposition, one that pushes me to isolate, remembering how much easier that is, because I’m so practiced at it.
Thankfully, I have a meeting tonight.