Let's Try Something New...

Maybe I've been doing it all wrong.

(Ok, well not all of it...I have been doing some of it right).

But this past weekend I learned something.  It wasn't my greatest weekend in recovery by a long shot, but then again, it wasn't the worst either.  And I have to keep looking for the lessons in each of the trials or else what is the point of the suffering really?

What I learned is that maybe my focus has been in the wrong place.  You know?   I mean really... I have been therapized, counselized, group-therapized, hospitalized..... focusing sharply on what's wrong.

ENOUGH!

Now, I'm not saying that all of those things aren't valid or that they aren't an important part of my process.  It's a fact that I am still standing because of all of those things.  I am grateful and lucky to have been able to afford them as part of my treatment to-date.

(Please, those of you who know me, don't worry that I have decided that I am now "better" and I don't need to continue counseling or treatment.  I know some of you are thinking that....and with good reason).

I know that I have miles to go still and I am not talking about eliminating any of the current support I have in my life.

But what if I can add something that makes my healing progress?

This past weekend, I was really struggling.

A lot.

I did some things right, and I fell back into some old habits to try and avoid the pain of losing the trust and relationship of the man I believed I would be living out the rest of my life with.

For three weeks I have been desperately trying to hang on in a space where there are no handles.

The words I was left with from Ken, that he was so hurt by me,  he can't even figure out if he still wants to proceed with our relationship, are fanned over the burning anxiety in my heart by Olivia, like dried reeds over an open flame.

Making eating next to impossible.  

Threatening to send me back to what is comfortable, what takes away the pain of rejection, of disappointing people, of getting it horribly, terribly wrong.

By design of my own doing,  because I let the demons that convince me I am not good enough already, (so whatever you do, don't TELL anyone that you have this one other thing that you have to recover from that you have been hiding from everyone in your life).

I am here once again in a space that feeds this disease who wants me dead.

I own what I did.  I will never blame Ken for needing time and space away from all of this chaos that I bring.  I was wrong and it caused this place we are in.  I am making no excuses and Ken has no role in what happened.  (I didn't give him a chance to).

For three weeks I have been applying with all of the strength I can scrape together, without the support of my once biggest cheerleader, all of the things I am learning to fight with, to this distress.

Fighting is exhausting.

Like talking about Anorexia, like disclosing my difficulty with alcohol since giving up eating disorder behaviors, I wasn't ready before now, for the information I learned this weekend.

If you know me, (Hi Mom!) you'll know that until I own an idea (that is....somehow it was my idea all along) it is difficult for me to grab onto.

I have a friend.  A very dear and special friend, who I haven't really known  for all that long, but who has firmly become an important asset in my life and recovery journey.

She is one of those people who shows up in your life for a reason.  (Hi Julie!)

She also tends to be one of those selfless friends who stays connected enough to realize when I might need support, and who shows up.

Every time.

In every way.

These past few weeks were no exception.

Reading my blog, Julie realized that I was in trouble.  She barraged me with text messages to "stay positive!" and that I'm "strong!" and "worth it!".  None of which penetrated the thick layer of  black tar Olivia had already begun covering my vulnerable, shiny, newly-formed, healthy self with.

Julie can be really, really (did I say really?) annoying persistent when it comes to helping.

"Did you watch the movie yet?!"

"I did, but I was drinking".

"Well watch it AGAIN! And this time I am going to ask you questions to make you prove it!"

So, I did.

Once I got over myself at how hokey and simple a thing like "changing my thinking" to embrace feeling good couldn't possibly help that much, I stayed up half the night last night, listening to just exactly how to do it.

It's actually a little deeper than thinking positively.  But in treatment and counseling and twice-hospitalized, I have been extolled the value of controlling my thoughts.  Turning my mind.  Think about what I want, not what I don't want.... and I just wasn't ready for the information yet I guess.

Until now.

This morning I woke up committed to the idea that I might as well try this because wallowing in misery leads me to the liquor isle at Hannaford faster than Trump can incite a riot at a pep rally. (I know, but I'm leaving it there...get your own blog :)

I know that none of this "positive thinking" is going to undo any of the egregious mistakes I have made in my past.  But I really want to like who I am and start forgiving myself for them.

Today I focused on being grateful for all of the goodness in my life.  I didn't get out of bed until I was sure I had named everything.

It's amazing how really difficult it became  to feel sorry for myself once I got to the end of the list.

Then, I promised myself that I would work hard to feel good.  It seems that is the first step to be able to start taking back control of my thoughts (from you-know-who) .  It sounds silly to say it here.  But that's exactly what I did.  I thought of something really simple that always makes me feel good.

The one thing I kept coming back to, is how good Sandy (the dog) makes me feel when she nuzzles me for attention or snacks, or both.

This is what happened:

I laced up my sneakers and walked (because I need to gain a few pounds back before I should run again) all around this beautiful place I get to live and watched the sun rise from all of the different angles in the Harbor.

I smelled the ocean and the early morning mud-flats beneath the foot-bridge.

I said out-loud "I want to stay out of my head and notice the beauty around me" and a cardinal flew by in front of us.

Then Sandy looked up at me with her sweet, happy smiling face as if to acknowledge this change in what I was giving off.

It sounds silly maybe.  But I noticed it too.

What's more, after leaving Hannaford with my jar of real peanut butter this morning, a woman I don't know smiled at me and said out loud, "you are just beautiful".

I'm not making this up.

It felt good to be able to feel in control of my thoughts and feelings today, rather than reacting out of pain and misery.

I'm going to do it again tomorrow.  Because what I have learned is that my life is where it is today because of what I have attracted to myself over the past.

I can't change any of it for all of the wishing in the Universe.

But I can change what lies ahead and focusing my mind on gratitude and positive thoughts might just be the switch I need to flip to kick this recovery shit into gear.

And it's starting to make sense.  (And in the brilliant words of Julie Roberts. "..even if it DOESN'T work...how bad for you can thinking positively be!?")