Recovery
I don't think I can do it today.
I feel mean. I feel hostile. Baby's crying. Dog's barking. TV's broke. Bank account's broke. Everyone's mad at me. It's 9:25 AM. Now there's some error message that keeps popping up at the top of the screen. I'm about ready to have a total freak out.
I don't even want to do it. What I want to do is drop the blinds, put my earplugs in, and get back in my bed. I want to stay there alllllll day. But I can't. I have all these kids and this insurmountable mountain of responsibility to tackle today.
There is a big pile of laundry on the living room floor... all mine. I have to deal with it before anything else.
Its a really good thing I don't drink because I have the potential to be a serious drinker. It's just in me, waiting for me to cross that line. I know that because when I feel like this, I think about mixing up a cocktail. These women on TV that start the day with a cocktail, I get it. That tells me that I am fully capable of being that girl, except for grace. God help me... I'm weak.
The Baptist church is starting Celebrate Recovery in a few weeks, so they are doing a series to prepare the church for the influx of souls that will seek refuge in our church. So the preachers asks, "What are you recovering from?" At first I thought, "These poor drug addicts, meth addicts, alcoholics. They have such screwed up lives. Only God can help them. I should do something to help."
The more he talked, the more I looked at my own screwed up mess. It looks good from the outside, people. It really does. I wish you could've seen my hair yesterday. It looked so good! But I am a mess. I have problems, and I try to cover them with my great big optimism and faith. I heard someone on the radio talking about nurturing the inward beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, and I got tears in my eyes. I am so far from that... so, so far. (But the hair counts for something, right?)
He says, "The first step in AA is to admit that you can't control whatever it is."
I wrote on my paper, "Money. Food, Anger."
I can't control our money. I can't control what I eat. I can't control this wave of insane anger that takes over me.
There. I admitted it. Now what? Do I need to go to Celebrate Recovery? I'm thinking about it. If only I had an extra couple of hours each week to go to the meetings. If I thought it would make a difference, I'd really go. But I don't believe it would help me. Some help I'll be for the poor souls that really believe in it.
What's wrong with me...?
I am overwhelmed. I need help. I need God to help me.
I'm not sure I can do this today.
lvb
I feel mean. I feel hostile. Baby's crying. Dog's barking. TV's broke. Bank account's broke. Everyone's mad at me. It's 9:25 AM. Now there's some error message that keeps popping up at the top of the screen. I'm about ready to have a total freak out.
I don't even want to do it. What I want to do is drop the blinds, put my earplugs in, and get back in my bed. I want to stay there alllllll day. But I can't. I have all these kids and this insurmountable mountain of responsibility to tackle today.
There is a big pile of laundry on the living room floor... all mine. I have to deal with it before anything else.
Its a really good thing I don't drink because I have the potential to be a serious drinker. It's just in me, waiting for me to cross that line. I know that because when I feel like this, I think about mixing up a cocktail. These women on TV that start the day with a cocktail, I get it. That tells me that I am fully capable of being that girl, except for grace. God help me... I'm weak.
The Baptist church is starting Celebrate Recovery in a few weeks, so they are doing a series to prepare the church for the influx of souls that will seek refuge in our church. So the preachers asks, "What are you recovering from?" At first I thought, "These poor drug addicts, meth addicts, alcoholics. They have such screwed up lives. Only God can help them. I should do something to help."
The more he talked, the more I looked at my own screwed up mess. It looks good from the outside, people. It really does. I wish you could've seen my hair yesterday. It looked so good! But I am a mess. I have problems, and I try to cover them with my great big optimism and faith. I heard someone on the radio talking about nurturing the inward beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, and I got tears in my eyes. I am so far from that... so, so far. (But the hair counts for something, right?)
He says, "The first step in AA is to admit that you can't control whatever it is."
I wrote on my paper, "Money. Food, Anger."
I can't control our money. I can't control what I eat. I can't control this wave of insane anger that takes over me.
There. I admitted it. Now what? Do I need to go to Celebrate Recovery? I'm thinking about it. If only I had an extra couple of hours each week to go to the meetings. If I thought it would make a difference, I'd really go. But I don't believe it would help me. Some help I'll be for the poor souls that really believe in it.
What's wrong with me...?
I am overwhelmed. I need help. I need God to help me.
I'm not sure I can do this today.
lvb
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