tigerlily35

My eight year old won't sleep. I remember when she was an infant and I couldn't wait until she was older and would sleep through the night. I'm still waiting.
It has to do with the fact that we moved 9 months ago and our house has two levels: me upstairs with kids on lower level.
(I am also divorced)
She has such anxiety about sleep. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to her. I am so close to her from my own room I can hear her breathing. She now sleeps on the couch in the living room!
She wakes me up 2-3 times a night and I refuse to let her sleep with me as of 6 months ago because I am pregnant. I NEEEED sleep. I neeeeed her to sleep before this baby comes when the REAL sleep deprivation comes.
In the middle of the night I feel like I'm gonna lose it.
It's not like she's all alone...her 5 year old brother is downstairs,too.
I play music for her. I read to her. I scratch her back for her. But that's it. I'm done. I'm tired.
Do I just let her cry? I have been reduced to tears myself at 2 am quite recently.
I'm so overwhelmed I am afraid to have another baby...I'm 37. What if I don't have the emotional stamina?

I've been spending too much time in the problem. I've been allowing others to dictate how I feel.
Too much stock in what others might think of me.
It is none of my business what others think of me.
Solution:
Expand
Connect
Reach out
Reach in
Acceptance
Forgiveness
Patience
Turn it over
Acceptance
Acceptance

Did I mention acceptance?

The great thing is that you get your emotions back. The downside is that you get your emotions back. I never learned how to live life on life's terms so it was and still can be very uncomfortable in my head. That's why I drank. I would go to any length to avoid being uncomfortable. Someone said recently in a meeting, "I had to get comfortable with being uncomfortable". I try to remember that feelings are temporary. When I feel great,I know it will be followed eventually by a low point and vice-versa. That's just reality, alcoholic or not. We alcoholics just have less experience with coping. We are all in progress. When I feel "uncomfortable" I remember that I am doing the next right thing every day. I'm showing up for life. I try to remember to cut myself a break. It gets better each day I am sober because I gradually regain self respect, self esteem, etc. People begin to believe in me again. I gain confidence. I went to my first meeting 3 yrs ago. The first two years were a struggle. I now have one year and have never felt better in my life. But, man, it has not been easy. Patience with ourselves and each individual's process. You are right where you are supposed to be.

I came prepared to hold my ground.
I'm visiting my mom in Ohio, which I love to do. Problem is, the more I know her new husband, the more I allow him to annoy me.
I feel like I can handle it. I am even amused by him sometimes. Well, amused might be pushing it. I can go outside and scream and then roll my eyes at my own behaviour.
What gets to me is that I feel like he harrasses my kids. I didn't know what to make of it last time I was here. I was afraid to "disrespect" him so I was silent (but seething)
The Big Book tells me,"If we are to live, we must be free of anger." I still get pretty angry and that concerns me. I am advised to express myself.
Soooooo, last night at dinner, which seems to be a trigger-point for my (step-dad?)I chopped him off at the knees every single time. Very abruptly.
First he started in on the amount of ketchup my daughter uses. He started to take her plate away so she would not "ruin her chicken" with it. I grabbed another plate, put more ketchup on it and gave it back to her saying, "my kids like ketchup." (pleasant smile) Then he took her plate again because she had a separate saucer for her corn-on-the-cob. He didn't like that? So he took the plate and said. "Now what are you gonna do?" I said, "children sometimes don't like their corn rolling all in to their other food. I gave her the extra plate".(pleasant smile)I then made room on her existing plate for her. She and I had an agreement that she would have to eat 2 bites of chicken, which she did. He began to make up his own rules for her meal and I stepped in again saying, " Lily and I have it under control. She knows what she needs to eat in order to be excused."
On and on it went. In between bouts of harrassment he would take bites of his own chicken (which she didn't care for) saying, "...mmmmmmmm......mmmmmmmmm!!!!!! This is soooooooooo goooooooood. Too bad you can;t have any! You don't know waht you're missing!!!!!
The look on my daughter's face was...shame.
I FUCKING GET RILED UP ABOUT THAT. I am in recovery for two eating disorders, myself. I don't like to associate food with anything but nourishment.
Tonight I solved the problem by feeding them a solid hour before dinner time. I've got no room for resentments to multiply.
Resentment is the number one offender. Resentment kills.

Last Sunday, my bf and several of his friends competed in the Half Iron Man in Racine. This race was part of their training for the full Iron Man in Florida on November 1st.
What a great race!
I find these races so uplifting. The excitement is contagious! I marvel not only at the passion of each athlete, but the passion of the spectators, as well. Everyone is there just screaming for the people racing. You cannot help but applaud each person who goes by, whether you know them or not.
One woman parked herself at the transition entrance from the bike portion of the race and made it her personal mission to scream something encouraging to EACH athlete.
You see people struggling, even dropping out and you just feel their pain.
Most impressive were the women. These were not same women I'd raced against/with in Naperville. These girls were solid, lean muscle and fast! Passing the men!
It was cool to step out of my comfort zone and get to know some new people that day. I drove a woman up to Racine at 530 am and met up with some other women to watch the race. Three of us had lunch together and I just ended up really liking them both (Amanda and Lauri)
After seeing it done: 1.2 m swim, 56m bike and 13m run...I am determined to do this race next year!
I have a long Fall and Winter in the pool and a new book from my bff, Stephanie called, "Total Immersion".
I shall perfect my swimming!

I have a service commitment on Tuesdays from 10-12 at the Mustard Seed here in Chicago. All I do is talk to people who sit down and want to chat and I answer the telephone.
I really look forward to it every week.
This last Tuesday I answered the phone and got in to a conversation with a woman who was really struggling.
It was a very frustrating dialog after about 5 minutes.
Every suggestion was met with a reason why it wouldn't work. Here was a woman who was in a lot of pain. She
just "couldn't stop drinking."
She asked me directly how I got sober. She wanted to know what it took. How low did I have to go?
For me, the bottom was when I "put down the shovel". I could've gone much lower, but I was tired. She really wanted to know specifically what it was going to take, for her. Problem is that it's so relative. I know people who have wrapped their motorcycles around telephone poles and people who have lost everything they have:husbands, wives, children, jobs, and homes and it's still not enough pain.
I suggested she go to a meeting: No, I can't do that. It's been too long
Does she have a sponsor? No, she can't do that, either.
Any suggestion I made was shot down, so I told her what I was told,once upon a time: Pray for the willingness.
Please help me to become willing to not drink, just for today. Please help me become willing to go to a meeting. Please help me become willing to ask for help.
"I don't believe in God", she said.
That's ok. You don't have to. Pray to an empty chair. Pray to the tree outside your window. Just don't pray to your current higher power...alcohol.
No, she says.I know they are trying to trick me in to believing in God.
To that statement I might suggest the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Specifically, We Agnostics.
No.
No.No. No.
This program is not for people who need it. This program is for people who want it.
At the same time, I get it. I get why she called and why she calls the Mustard Seed often. It can be terrifying to envision a life without alcohol. i represented a life without alcohol, perhaps. I understand when someone says, "Please help me, I'm dying here. And while you're at it, go away, I hate you and I don't need you."
It's frightening because people end up dead. Sometimes one more drunk turns out to be the last drunk ever; the last everything.
I know a few active alcoholics today and I worry ceaselessly about them. All I can do is wait and hope and pray and not enable. We get here how we get here. Or we don't.

Someone strongly suggested I do this, as I shrink from confrontation. (Unless I'm in a relationship in which case I will attempt to steamroll you) Arghh! Progress, not perfection.

ASSERTIVENES

I have the right to:

!. My own spiritual process
2. Make a mistake as a mother
3. Take some "calculated distance"
4. Refrain from commenting
5. Disagree
6. Be disappointed
7. Cry, if I want to...cry if I want to (it's my party)
8. Follow my instincts
9. Say, "no,thank you"
10. Excuse myself from an uncomfortable situation



I have a responsibility to:

1. Advocate for my children
2. Call other women in program
3. Answer the phone
4. offer my children a variety of healthy foods
5. Be honest, open and willing
6. Show up
7. Ask for help
8. Be a good example
9. Treat body with reverence
10. Build my spiritual life.

I recently had the experience of being held hostage in the kitchen of a southern Baptist minister and apparently I am screwed. It seems there is only one path towards a spiritual life and that is his way.
The minister did not believe in the "higher power" concept that my program embraces. He says, "If you don't call it God, you're watering it down."
I do happen to call it God, but my concept of a loving, forgiving spirit does not condemn hundreds of thousands of recovering alcoholics and addicts, not to mention the Dalai Lama and/or Mother Theresa to the fiery bowels of the earth. My higher power made me human. He/She?/Who am I to label God with gender ? My God is rooting for me. My God put me here to learn. My God put me here to help someone, somehow. My God knows all my character defects, including my inclination to turn away from faith.
My minister friend believes in prayer,but I'm not doing it right? I have to be saved? All my prayers have been for naught? The one and only true God can't hear me unless I speak the right language?

If it were not for the step-approach to building a spiritual life I'd be lost. I believe my higher power brought AA to me and he/she/it/whatever speaks to me thru other people.
I was not strong enough to defend my point during said hostage situation. I deplore confrontation and will go to any length to avoid it, usually.
I feel bad for the minister as he sees himself as the "cheshire cat". If anything,I'd think the "one and only true God" would require a smidge of humility in exchange for gaining entrance to his special kingdom.

I've always heard people refer to "going home." Both in college as an 18-20something year old and again while living in Aspen for 6 years.
I originally went to school at UNM. It's located in Albuquerque where I spent some years off and on living as a child. (Not sure I did much actual "growing up" there)
So, I went to school for awhile in what passes for my home town. As I moved a lot as a kid, I didn't really feel like it was home. I loved moving! I never felt any sense of, "woe is me". (If you're my brother, you never felt,"woe is I")
As I became older, I sought a geographical solution to my issues. Funny, I knew it at the time, subconsciously, that I couldn't run fast enough.
I never thought of going home. I was never homesick. I've never felt a strong tie to any one particular locale because I never stayed anywhere long enough to love it.
It sounded good, though. I'd hear a co-worker in Aspen mention going home for the off-season and I'd picture her with cookies and milk safely tucked away in her pink-frilly childhood bedroom.
If I went to visit my mother in Albuquerque from Aspen, she'd be in an apartment I'd never seen before. I might recognize some of her knick-knacks (gawd, the knick-knacks!)but I had absolutely no connection with the space.
Same goes with my Dad. I have no connection to his home, either. I have no connection to my current city of ten years and I've only lived in the house I bought for 7 months now. I wonder sometimes if that's part of my "problem". I have a general sense of up-rootedness.
My former husband's childhood bedroom has the same furniture in it today and he's 37.
My point! My point in writing this was to recognize that I have a sense of well-being and safety here at my mom's home with her new husband in Brookville, Ohio. I won't say it feels like home. What does that feel like? But it feels good. I feel taken care of. I can let my guard down like I imagine some might do when they go home for Christmas.
I hope, by buying my home 7 months ago that I can provide that sense for my own kids. I want them to grow up in one spot. I want them to have a home base. I want them to know where to come for their comfort.

Doctor's orders: Cease and desist medication which encourages rioting chemicals in brain to settle down and do as they're told.
Have not been this "free" since...hmmmm....2002? Also, have not been this crazy since 2002. Ask my boyfriend. Poor man. I actually threw a punch at him. Lol!
He was not amused.
I'm not typically prone to tantrums (anymore) and I haven't thrown a punch at anyone in...at least 3 years. It's strange because I am witnessing myself engage in these behaviors. It borders on fascinating , almost funny even. I have regressed, albeit temporarily, to the Terrible Twos. At least I hope it's temporary.
What's more, I cannot sleep, which,in turn, makes me crazier. Acting crazy is exhausting. I cry and act crazy. Then I regain my composure, reluctantly, because once I'm acting crazy it's hard to stop.
Tonight I cried while watching, "America's Most Wanted." I said, "OMG, I'm such a WRECK!" BF says,"Ohhh, but you're MY little wreck...".
How romantic.
Tomorrow morning I want to go to my 9am yoga class and meet up with my sponsor. At 3pm I intend to drive to Ohio with my kids. If I'm up til 5 am, another day of intentions falls away.
I will be "re-medicated" over a period of time. In the meantime I am banishing myself to a very small town in Ohio where nobody knows me.
Only my mother is there and somehow she keeps on loving me unconditionally as only a mother can.

Trying to just take things one day at a time.
Acceptance List:
#1 Everyone has a beautiful side, including me
#2 Everyone has an ugly side, including me.
Wait long enough and I'll even show it to ya!
And you'll likely show me yours.
I hate that expression, "familiarity breeds contempt"
I recall saying to my boyfriend (when I was 21), "I just want you to treat me like you did on our first date!" And, "if you didn't know me you wouldn't be such a jerk".
Oh yeah! This was an acceptance list.
Ahem...
#3 There is much I cannot change
#4 Some people are healthier than I
#5 My expectations will not always be met
#6 The future is a mystery and it's supposed to be that way
#7 No one expects me to be perfect
#8 It's none of my business (what other people think of me)
#9 If I provide my children with the perfect,most ideal childhood, they could still end up miserable.
(Their perception of such, each one likely different, is what will matter)
#10 I cannot protect them from everything
#11 I have a progressive disease called alcoholism
#12 There is a power, an immeasurable force in the universe. And...it's not me.
#13 If I meet that power half way, by doing the next right thing, I will always be taken care of
#14 Feelings are inevitable, necessary and temporary

Today was somethin' else. We awakened at 4am, my daughter (8), my boyfriend and I. I ate about 800 calories of oatmeal and a Red Bull and we piled in the car for a short(ish) trek to nearby suburb of Naperville. Along the way we swooped up my vampire, oops, I mean, brother. He had yet to sleep and was cracking me up in his delirium.
Naperville was crawling with women of all ages, shapes and sizes for the All Female Naperville Triathlon. My first event of its kind.
The race was delayed by lightening. Just enough time for my nerves to kick in. There were something like 2700 participants and I was in wave 18. The orange caps. The 37 year olds!
I have never swam in open water of any sort and only began swimming 6 months ago, but I LOVED the swim. The water was a perfect temp and I got kicked in the head relatively few times-always followed with a polite, "Oh! I'm sorry!" I felt very strong. I was shocked.
Running out of the swim was weird, as my legs had seems to go all wiggly-woggily. We had to run up hill to our bikes.
At the bike, I peeled off the wetsuit, swallowed some disgusting gooey sugar energy gunk, donned my helmet and FLEW.
I mean, I hammered it.
I had no idea I was going to do that. I hammered it so hard that my legs no longer functioned for the run! I ran baby steps for a mile until the goo kicked in and I started to find my running legs (my sport of choice)
I picked it up the last quarter mile and was flyin'by. (at least it was fast for me!)
Then, suddenly there was Lily, my daughter, reaching for my hand.I grabbed it and we ran across the finish line together.
Funny thing occurred to me during the run: the last time I was in Naperville I was at an OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE. Hammering it in a much different fashion involving vodka.
Today was truly a gift of sobriety.

kinda angry. kinda disappointed. Kind of shocked. Kind of violated. Kind of intrigued. Kind of tired of keyboard sticking. Kind of tired of the justice system. Kind of pitying myself. Kind of perplexed.
What are the long-reaching affects of childhood sexual abuse? I had them all except I did not become a perpetrator myself. Now another. One I never even knew exsisted.
Vocal Chord Dysfunction--most commonly seen in victims such as myself. This is why I can't breathe. Throw out the Singulair.It ain't asthma. Oh, how I wanted asthma! A solution to a 30 year mystery! Take a pill! It's gone.
Everything he did to me manifested itself permanently somehow within my psyche, now he's in my throat.
I may change my specialty from addictions to child psych. It was my idea since the sixth grade. My experience can help someone.I am determined and passionate. The secrets have to go.

kinda angry. kinda disappointed. Kind of shocked. Kind of violated. Kind of intrigued. Kind of tired of keyboard sticking. Kind of tired of the justice system. Kind of pitying myself. Kind of perplexed.
What are the long-reaching affects of childhood sexual abuse? I had them all except I did not become a perpetrator myself. Now another. One I never even knew exsisted.
Vocal Chord Dysfunction--most commonly seen in victims such as myself. This is why I can't breathe. Throw out the Singulair.It ain't asthma. Oh, how I wanted asthma! A solution to a 30 year mystery! Take a pill! It's gone.
Everything he did to me manifested itself permanently somehow within my psyche, now he's in my throat.
I may change my specialty from addictions to child psych. It was my idea since the sixth grade. My experience can help someone.I am determined and passionate. The secrets have to go.

I am grateful for:

my health
my kids' health
my family
my bf
my few/tried/true friends
my car
my roof
my ex-husband
my ex-family-in-law
Financial Aid for school
electricity
water
blankets
shoes
pots and pans
the internet
Trudy
medication
air conditioning
my sponsor
AA
God
(None of these are necessarily in order)

I'm going to be maid-of-honor. Actually, I think it's "matron" if you're a divorced, 37 year old mother of two.
The bride-to-be is my long-time best friend dating back to high school.  We haven't lived in the same state in over 15 years, so she got to miss all the resulting drama of my active alcoholism. I'm happy about that, as I may nothave been able to maintain bff status in my condition. We alcoholics are very absorbed with getting to the next drink/feeling like a failure/piece of shite after we get it.
As a recovering alcoholic, my continued recovery involves being of service. However the opportunity comes about I should seize it.  I am now looking at this matron-of-honor situation as a great opportunity to stop thinking about myself and help her. I don't know what all the traditional duties entail, but I'm pretty sure I'm not living up to them so far.
I generally try to get by in life with procrastination until so consumed with anxiety I can no longer function. Working on changing that.
Other things I am working on changing:
1 Calling people
2 Answering the phone
3 Calling people back
4 consistent prayer
5. organization of important papers.
6. Eating more protein
7 budgeting money

"The smallest amount of merit dedicated to the good of others is more precious than any amount of
merit dedicated to our own good." Je Gampopa, Tibet (1079-1153)

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

My sponsor asked me to make a list of things I like about myself. I do what she says (mostly). This is because she has long term sobriety and I have faith in the path she has taken. She wants what she has. Therefore, I want what she has.
Anyhow, here's the list:
1. I'm willing to try
2. I'm introspective
3. I am continually trying to better myself
4. I am able to recognize when I'm wrong
5. I can ask for help.
6. I have determination.
7. I have quiet endurance.
8. I'm a good listener
9. I can apologize.
10. I don't smoke.
11. I'm learning to swim.
12. I always pop back up after getting knocked down.
14. I like going to movies by myself.
15. I like my own company.
16. My kids are turning out pretty well.
17. I don't drink as a solution to problems.

In 1966 (six years before the official date of women's participation in the race) Roberta Bengay (Roberta Gibb Welch) hid in the bushes and then joined the runners just after take-off to get into the race.
She ran the Boston Marathon in 3:12.2 and beat two-thirds of the men. Race officials, however, denied a woman had run the race. "I know of no girl who ran in the Boston Marathon. I do know of a girl who is supposed to have run on the same roads as the marathon route today. But that's not the same."
Duh?
(By the way, recently WOAH was informed that "Bengay" was actually Roberta Gibb Welch.)
The very next year, Katherine Switzer was refused permission to enter the Boston Marathon, but got a number in 1967 as K. Switzer. While racing she was recognized as a girl and officials chased her trying to pull off her number.
(There's a famous photo of the attempts to remove her number which were foiled by male runners around her, as well as her speed.) Switzer finished the race and most certainly WAS the first woman to run the race under an official number.
But Switzer paid a great price for her audacity. She was a member of the Syracuse University track team and was promptly suspended from the Amateur Athletic Union for "running without a chaperon!"
For those who are shaking their heads and who had been thinking women had human rights in the U.S. "Forever."
1966 was 34 years ago . . .



(This is from an article on the internet by Irene Stuber)

There's a uniform for everything. Sometimes they're necessary, though. I just had to buy a "triathlon" suit. It's really just a jog bra and bike shorts that you can swim in.
So, I had to buy that to wear UNDER the wetsuit that I have to buy next. This morning I had to buy bike shoes to fit the pedals of my "new" hand-me-down racing bike.
I wear a different uniform to run, to do classes, to swim indoors, to go to Target, to sleep.
I wear jeans and a t-shirt almost every single day of my life. That's my favorite uniform. With flip flops. Something I read yesterday had to do with the preoccupation with style being a form of spiritual malady. Hmmmmmm.