Tattle Tale

I haven't been to a meeting in over a week. I went to church Sunday and thought that would do the trick. It did not. I haven't been avoiding a meeting... life has just sort of gotten in the way of things this past week. The holiday, busy at work. And now it's Wednesday. Tomorrow is my home ACOA. I will not miss that. It's really amazing how fast I slip when I am not constantly surrounding myself with recovery. I need to find a sponsor. I have been dragging my feet on this. Just showing up is no longer enough.

Now I really need to tell on myself. I have been avoiding this now and its painful to write. As you all well know I continue to struggle with my relationship with K2. It is this constant source of confusion for me. Almost two weeks ago I ended communication between us. You can read "Moving Forward". Well two nights ago, in a moment of weakness I sent him a text message telling that I am not as strong as he thinks because I miss him and all of this isn't going away. I shouldn't have done it. I should have called someone (here's where sponsor would have come in handy). I should have slept on it. I didn't. He didn't text me back... Of course I was hurt I didn't hear from him and sad that he didn't immediately validate my feelings. A small part of me appreciated the fact that he was being the strong one. Well... he called last night. I was out to dinner and missed the call. As soon as I heard the missed call something inside me knew it was him. He left a message. He asked me to call him back. He said he would be busy for the next few hours and if I missed him he would call me tomorrow.

I opened a can of worms. I want to take his call. I have to go through all of this all over again now. I failed. I just don't get it. I know the drill... I know I have to let go. I know I need to accept things for the way they are... blah blah blah. I don't think anyone can say anything I don't know or haven't heard. Why do I fight it so much? I made this big declaration of moving on and moving forward and not even two weeks later I find myself in a very familiar place. I like here. I must. If I didn't I wouldn't keep coming back. Sometimes I feel like this is all so trivial. Like I have no right to be so involved in this because so many people have bigger problems than me. But I love him. I am in love with him and I just have so much pain associated with our relationship because I thought we would get married and having a loving committed relationship together. I have been in love twice in my life. My first long term boyfriend lasted 4 years. 3 years and about 360 days too long. When he broke up with me I was devastated, but I knew for sure that it was the right thing. He broke up with me because I didn't have the strength to do it myself. I don't feel that way with K2. It feels so wrong. Like its not supposed to happen this way. Ha ha... listen to me. Who am I to say what should happen. God is in control... not me. I need to get that through my thick head.

It doesn't change how I feel. I want to tell him I love you. I am in love with you. I don't want to abandon you. I am in it for the long haul. I don't want to fix you (well sometimes I do, but I'm getting better). I want to love you and be your friend. I want the same from you. I don't want you to make things better. I want you to love me. I want you to be my friend. I want you to support me in healthy ways. I want you to take care of yourself. I want to take care of myself. And I want to lovingly and appropriately take care of each other. I want you to know my true feelings about us... I don't want to be strong. I don't want to be afraid to tell you these things because of fear of rejection. I want to say that loving oneself and loving someone else is a lifelong process. You don't need to be alone until you get there. I want to cry. I miss you. I miss telling you things. I miss not having to say anything. I miss the unspoken understanding. I want you to be able to say today I need my space. And I want to trust you and give you that space. I want to accept you for who you are. I want to know that it is okay to have appropriate expectations of love, honesty and respect. That doesn't mean each of always needing to be right. It doesn't mean a ring on my finger. It doesn't mean needing you to always hold my hand. I support you. I respect your boundaries. I respect that people don't change but if there is a real desire they can compromise. I want happiness. I want happiness for you. I want for us to be able to be happy together.

Today I am grateful for:

Getting through the day

Memories

My father and I have had some volatile fights. Two in particular stand out in my mind. I was talking to my co-worker and good friend today and it helped me to remember. The first, and really the beginning of the end in my mind... was on Mother's day when I was about 16 or 17 years old. Traditionally Mother's Day is known for being a total disaster in my house. Something awful always happens. I was cleaning for my mom and the vacuum broke. I asked my father to fix it and of course he ignored me. As he usually did. Something just snapped inside me and I starting just screaming at him... screaming like I have never done in my life. His lack of interest just broke my heart and infuriated me that he didn't love my mom enough to even help me so I could do something nice for her. My sister came down the stairs and saw me screaming and she immediately fell to the ground and blacked out. My dad just sat there on the couch, looking at me and laughing. Laughing. It was the first time I physically raised my hand at him.

The next big fight we had was at the dinner table. I asked him to stop slurping his soup and he refused. It's funny how I look back now and see how silly the action was. It is clear that my anger was built up from all the previous experiences seething at the top just waiting to boil over. He was laughing again. Always mocking me... so I screamed (again, like I always did) and told him I hated him and 'Fuck You' and ran out of the house. It was less than 30 degrees that night with 2 feet of snow on the ground. I just left... I didn't know where I was going I just knew that I couldn't stay there. He didn't go after me. I walked 2 miles in the snow with no coat before my mom and her friend found me. I was shivering, and crying and was turning blue at that point. We never talked about it again. He never so much as mentioned it to me. What I did was wrong and disrespectful... but in my mind he never deserved any respect and quite frankly I don't think he cared. What bothers me the most about that night is my 8 year old sister at the time sat outside talking to me begging me to come back inside because she thought I was hiding in the bushes afraid. That is just so fucked up. I apologize for the foul language, but how messed up is that? What kid should have to do that? I don't remember anything happening after that... we all just pretended like it never even happened.

When I was 16 my mom decided to have an intervention for my father. We had to meet with a councilor and write letters about the things my father had done to hurt us etc. because of the drinking. The people included my mom, my two sisters, my mom's parents, my dad's father and his oldest brother. The night before the intervention we all gathered at some cheap hotel to rehearse and review for the following day. **Insert a little about me. I am tough. I am the rock. I am the one who can and will do anything that needs to be done. I am the one who makes fun of you for all your icky feelings. I don't cry (in front of people). I have a hard exterior and like to make people think that nothing ever bothers me. I set myself up for disappointment so I am never actually disappointed.** In actuality that is such a load of BS. I am super sensitive, hurt easily and internalize almost everything. We all went around the room reading our letters. I hated my father and said it out loud at every opportunity. This was my revenge. This letter of all the ways he broke me. It came time for me to read my letter. I couldn't do it. I cried so hysterically the words would not even form. The next day my mom woke my father out of a drunken stupor early in the morning. He came downstairs to all of us sitting there in a circle. He was basically forced to listen to us and he was carted off to rehab where he stayed for three days and checked himself out. He disappeared for two weeks after that. He called my mom from somewhere in South Carolina... he was soul searching. He didn't know when he was coming back.

That was not the first time he abandoned us... and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

I don't know what made me share these stories... I guess I need to just start getting them out there one day at a time.

Have a great weekend everyone. Peace and Serenity.

Today I am grateful for:

Making it through

Alanon/ACOA

God