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I wanted to say thank you... Thank you God for helping my mother through her medical crisis.
Thank you God for helping me through the crisis I've created in my head.
Thank you God for ... everything. And thank you all for the patience and support you've given me. You have no idea how much that means... I simply had no idea when dealing with codependency would become more difficult when you're faced with the possibility of losing a loved one, namely a parent, would be. As much as I believe things happen for a reason, if this was a "test" of my progression, then I failed miserably. Which is why I'm still taking this down time to recollect myself - my mind, my emotions, and most importantly...my faith. This experience messed me up more than I imagined... To the point where I'm tossing around the idea of starting steps 1 and 2 over, because I don't feel like I'm anywhere near ready for step 3. *sigh*
Tags: Tired
I realize I haven't logged in in a few days, and with my last blog I contemplated on giving up... So I can see how my absence may have appeared that way. Truth is, yes, my mom did have a heart attack. Thankfully it was only a mild one. When they discovered she had two more blocked arteries (again in the major ones - one being 87% blocked, while the other, over 50%), they're still uncertain as to what may have caused it as the stent they placed a couple years ago had 98% blockage and she was on the razor's edge of having the 'big one'. She did have the new stents put in yesterday and came through just fine... Thank you God! However, the family is in a bit of a mess because none of us really understood (and still doesn't) her logic. It's been an emotional rollercoaster for all of us, but at least she's promised she'll do something the next time she starts feeling odd. As for me, I'm thinking I'm needing a mental/emotional break and try to regroup. It's bad enough we already lost our dad, but the fear of losing our mom too, well... Instead of having faith and learning on God, I panicked and allowed all the abandonment issues take on an unhealthy life of it's own. Berating myself isn't going to get me anywhere... I've still much self dissecting to do if I ever hope to overcome these faults I have. One... step... at a time.
I need to get this out before my head explodes... A couple of years ago, my mother and I would go donate plasma together. It's standard procedure to be weighed in, and have your pulse and blood pressure taken before you're allowed to donate, which is good too because I have watched people suddenly throw up or pass out. Little did we know, that said standard procedure would be key in saving my mom's life. Twords the end of September of 2005, her blood pressure became elevated until, finally, it was so high they had to turn her away. This was also about the time where she was in pre-menopause. She had gone to the doctor, initially for something to help lower her blood pressure. However, with all the blood work they had done, showed something else... She had signs of congestive heart failure, and promptly sent her to a cardiologist to do a stress test. Ironically enough, she has the same cardiologist as her mother - my grandmother, who also has congestive heart failure... A hereditary disease that strikes the family women just before or during active menopause. The initial stress test proved inconclusive. So a nuclear stress test was ordered. The test revealed a 98% blockage just above the left anterior descending artery, ajacent to the branches beneath. Needless to say, I did not take this news very well either. You can get an idea of the area from the image below. 
The medicated stent they placed seems to still be holding as of her last checkup less than a month ago, although they found two more areas with blockage that need stents. For the past couple weeks, mom's been exhausted. Even the doctor says she's put on about 8 pounds of swelling and gave her pills to reduce the water retention, which, thankfully helped. Last week, it seemed she was doing better, but... That seemed to have merely lasted for a couple of days. Every day I try to check up on her. When I called last evening, she was so out of breath just by talking on the phone for less than a minute. Last night, she sent me an email... Hi honey, I hope I wasn't rude when you called, I just don't have the breath to talk. I've been this way since last night. I really don't want to go to the hospital since I have congestive heart failure and there is nothing that can be done until Friday. I do go see my other doctor on Thursday, she might be able to tell me if I had a mild heart attack. Anyway, I'll just be glad when Friday get's here, as this has dropped me to my knees, I have have NEVER been so weak. I love you and don't worry, I will go to the ER if I need to. This whole thing has left me panicked to the point where I've been backsliding in my recovery, and even contemplated giving up on the whole thing. I've been praying - trying to let go and let God. Only the fear of the possibility of losing my mother has become utterly intense, and very irrational. So much so, I found myself begging, pleading and bargaining with God due to my selfishness. It this same sh*t that brought me seeking recovery in the first place, only now I'm being confronted with abandonment issues and losing the ability to cope...along with everything I've learned. This isn't without it's own sense of irony, however, as when I opened "One Day at a Time in Al-Anon" to today's inspirational reminder, it talked of the importance of prayer and being mindful of resisting God's knowledge by assuming I know what I want or what is best for me. How do people deal with something like this without falling backward in recovery? Or giving up?
Tags: Depressed
At the insistence of a friend, she had accompanied her to a local bar to meet someone. Although her friend had interests in this particular fellow whom they had gone to meet, he and my mom ended up hitting it off instead.
I was about 6 or 7 at the time.
Little did anyone know, my parents and the rest of our family would be in for a rocky ride with alcoholism and everything that goes along with it. Secrets, dysfunction... You name it, it probably existed within our family.
Until examining my own unhealthy behaviors, I realized that I learned the patterns of 'stinkin thinkin' at a very young age. Although this December would mark 16 years since my dad passed away, these said patterns are still ever present in my life and in my mind, and I'm watching these same learned habits being passed on to my grandkids.
When I was 10, dad nearly died from a heartattack that destroyed 1/3 of his heart.
It was a miracle of God he even lived.
This happened shortly after my brother and I returned from spending the summer with our biological sperm donor... Which we didn't go by choice, but rather we had been sent out there because dad's drinking had gotten so out of control.
Dad's drinking was by no means, normal. Even after he had nearly lost his life, he'd still go on drinking binges that would last for days at a time.
In a child's mind, I simply could not understand... Did he love his bottle more than he loved us? Was he trying to kill himself?
I did everything a child was capable of doing to get their parent to stop drinking. From dumping his booze down the drain when he wasn't home - risking his wrath in the process, to ignoring the acknowledgment of his presence whenever I smelled the stench of liquor on his breath. I'd even fall asleep on the livingroom floor, provided he decided to come home after binging, in hopes that he'd wake up from his stupor and see what his drinking was doing to us.
From second grade up until the 8th grade, my academic life and my social life was a living hell. Before his heart attack, he was notorious for quitting jobs, and taking his paycheck to disappear on drinking binges. Since he blew all the money on bars and booze, we were forced to move again and again.
The shortest attendance I had for one school was 2 days.
I considered myself lucky if I could spend one semester at the same school and that I never had to repeat the same grade, despite all the academic differences in schools within the same school district.
Not only that, I had an extremely difficult time socially. I never was able to stick around long enough to meet anybody, and when I did, I was yanked out of one school and into another.
Other times, where I actually did make a new friend, I ended up doing what I could to sabotage the relationship. After all, what was the point to have anything lasting when I knew I wasn't going to be around long anyway?
This is probably why I find myself not being a very social person to this day.
As much as I have a distaste for disclosing my personal life on a public forum, which I may end up deleting after a few days, I guess the point I am trying to make is this...
Many of us may have chosen 12 step recovery, not because we are drug addicts or alcoholics, but because we have become slaves to addiction in our own right. Addiction to control and modifying the addict's behavior being one of them. As I have come to discover the hard way, living with an addict can turn us into codependents.
Yes, we were hurt by the addict's actions and I don't argue that. It's taken me a long time to step out of the victim/martyr role and recognize that my learned habitual ways of coping has spread into every facet of my adult life like a cancer, even though my dad has long since died.
Since I've come to discover the origins of learned passive aggressiveness as a mode being able to control and manipulate another person's addiction, that I too, have to become equally accountable. The blame of addiction shouldn't be rested squarely on the addict's shoulders, because the addict isn't the only person in the situation that had a role to play.
Tags: Reflective
Native American Words of Wisdom An old Cherokee was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, "A battle is raging inside me ... it is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."
The old man fixed the children with a firm stare. "This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too."
They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"
The old Cherokee replied: "The one you feed." I had a long conversation the other night with a close friend, who happens to be majoring in psychology. Naturally his minor would be philosophy, and we were discussing both subjects. He had said something interesting which continues to have me pondering... "There are two sides to every human being. The one that the public sees; the other is either the person who we hate, or who we love." The duality of ourselves fascinates me both on the psychological level as well as the spiritual. Granted, I'm not attending college as he is, so much of my opinions is simply musings based upon what I am continuing to learn from getting to know myself. What is it about our ego that, more often than not, struggles for unhealthy dominance over the temperance of our spirit? There seems to be a commonality amongst addiction and mental illness in American society's ever-growing secular mindset, and the inner struggle with our duel nature. We see this everywhere, especially within the western culture. From medicine and psychology, to science and physics, the nature of the spirit is consistently omitted. In the nature of duality, how are we - as individuals and as a society - apt to find a healthy balance between our shadow (ego) and our spirit? Especially when mainstream thinking acknowledges one side and ignores the other? I read somewhere not too long ago where a physicist has proven 'love' as being the fifth element. If I had more time and it wasn't so late, I'd dig up some documentation on this theory. However, such a theory strengthens my self-created debate. [Note: this theory, ironically enough, pretty much sums up my newly appreciated and reinforced belief that God is love.] The celtic singer, Enya, said it best when explaining the person I am: "I am not a religious being. I am a spiritual being." With this notion in mind, you may better understand why I believe the 12 steps is pure genius when it comes to tackling the problem of balancing our duel nature, as well as mental illness and addiction. So kudos to Carl Jung, who was one of the first and few advocates of A.A. in psychology. Wikipedia states, "Jung emphasized the importance of balance and harmony. He cautioned that modern humans rely too heavily on science and logic and would benefit from integrating spirituality and appreciation of the unconscious realm." I can see alot of truth in that statement as we seem to have very little focus on our spiritual nature otherwise. The cliché - "I am only as healthy as my spirit," is telltale as to the success or failure of my own, or any given person's personal recovery using the steps.
I realize I should be blogging more often than I do. Especially on this one.
Truth is I've been burned out for months because when you've got more than one blog, they all come to feel like an obligation. Not to mention I've lost several 'friends' (many I've known for years) due to my lack of social interest with their's as well.
Eh, perhaps I am having an off day and I don't even realize it.
Some days I find myself being overloaded on a spiritual high, that I sometimes wonder if I'm manic (but in a good way). Then I start coming down for a 'break', which lasts two or three days before I find myself pulling out the Big Book.
Being bipolar, this 'coming down' process isn't like the typical crash and burn going from a manic episode and rapidly decending into the depressive stage. Instead, it's more like switching from a spiritual mindset to a more grounded, logical one.
One of my biggest bad habits that I have is that I have a tendancy to analyze things to death. To the point of redundancy. This is not a healthy habit to have by any means, and I can see how relapses can happen... By being stuck in your head.
Now I've made it pretty clear that another one of my favorite, yet worst vice is that I happen to loooooove to isolate. It has never been a secret that I simply am not a very social person. To be honest, I'm not real sure if it's because my mental and emotional faculties tend to get overwhelmed and overstimulated, or that I've become a habitual introvert due to my PTSD.
Irregardless, the fact remains isolation causes me to be stuck in my head, and therefore the cycle of irrational thinking starts spinning like a freight train with a turbo engine.
This is the cycle I'm on now... The logical, however, analytical one.
For the past three days I have been working on trying to find the pattern of my inability for letting things go, and while having had discovered the answer, I became emotionally disconnected in the process.
I noticed one of my hurdles of getting to step 4, and beyond, is having to remember and relive all the emotional baggage.
That is when I put my book and my journal down, and the mobius loop of irrational thinking begins. Namely, avoidance.
When it comes to this self defeating problem of mine, friends in A.A. and N.A. have suggested to me all kinds of things: "Fake it until you make it," "Start by forgiving yourself first," "The steps are in order for a reason," "Let go and let God." ... And my personal favorites: "How's it working out for you?" and "Are you willing to do anything it takes?"
Man, those last two is like catching a left hook to the face while caught off guard. Of course that left hook being something I cannot argue with, which is the truth.
Despite the fact that I've been taking the time to get to know myself, and actually like myself (I guess there is some wisdom to being one's own friend after all), the fact of the matter remains... I am going to have to open that can of worms if I expect to clean my side of the street - via the steps.
As much as I'm willing to do anything for my personal recovery, I cannot seem to bring myself to face those deeply buried emotions.
Is there anyone who has any suggestions that might help me get past this? 
Tags: Disappointed
I found this while trolling through a group on another site and thought this was fantastic, and wanted to share it. Enjoy!  I Asked GodI asked God to take away my pain.
God said, No.
It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.
I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, No.
Her spirit was whole, her body was only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, No.
Patience is a by-product of tribulations, it isn't granted, it is earned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, No.
I give you blessings, Happiness is up to you.
I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, No.
Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, No.
You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, No.
I will give you life so that you may enjoy all things.
I ask God to help me LOVE others, as much as he loves me.
God said... Ahhhh, finally you have the idea!
-Anonymous
Tags: Reflective
It's late and it has been ages since I've blogged ... and even longer since I wrote a serious one. But tonight/this morning won't be that time. Or at least I'm not real sure.  Since my video card brought the farm on my main computer, I've been rather preoccupied giving my backup a badly needed overhaul. Come to think of it, it probably would've been quicker if I had simply reformatted. But - eh... I'm a certifiable geek who insists on doing everything the hard way. Actually, I'm not exactly sure just how true the above statement was. Is it some paradoxical issue I create for myself due to my bipolar disorder? Or could it be I'm still clinging to Einstein's definition of insanity like a life preserver? I guess the discovery to that question will come further into my recovery... Also, I failed to mention in my introductory blog is that I happen to be a self proclaimed 'goth'. I don't mean one of those posers who's borderline emo...where wearing a corset over your dress is considered a historical trend, writing self-absorbed and whiny poetry over at Starbucks, bi-sexuality is more accepted as mainstream rather than being a form of an identity crisis, and Prosac is considered to be a status symbol. Rather, I'm one of those old schoolers who considers goth to be a state of mind and not a dress code. The reason why I brought that *ahem* insignificant rant up is because I haven't used my backup computer since... Since... Uh, since I forget when. However, the point being is that I was surprised to see all the 'dark' and sarcastic images I've kept for use as blogs, comments and whatnot -- and how much my attitude twords, well, pretty much everything in general...has changed since I decided to get serious in making some changes within myself. To give you an idea, I had real issues with "God". It was bad enough I had the wrong attitude in thinking that my perception of a Higher Power hated me and all my "troubles" was some sort of a cosmic joke. To top that all off, my equally sick and codependent ex of 12 years happens to be one of those annoying Christian fundamentalist types. A real zealot if you will. Everyday I had to hear his fire and brimstone sermons, and how I was going to hell and blah, blah, blah... This does things to your mind when you're yearning for oblivion because you despise yourself as it is and having to hear the voice of condemnation day in and day out. Don't get me wrong as I wasn't always like this as I was raised with Christian and spiritual beliefs. Needless to say, Step 1 was easy... I had no problem admitting my life was beyond unmanagable even though it had been long past since hitting rock bottom. Only denial and depression was ever present. That, folks, was a tough part to get past... Step 2 I wrestled with for months. It took what seems like forever before I settled on a concept that would get me by. "Fake it until you make it," was what my friend/ex-neighbor suggested. As good as his advice was, at the time, it still wasn't good enough for me. Letting things go is something I don't readily do, or easily. Instead I pondered and analyzed, just trying to figure out what is [my perception of] God. Not to mention I was having to get all that preachy conditioning by my ex out of my head. It was a hurdle that was keeping me from getting to the next step, and it was supposed to be a Higher Power of my own understanding. Mind you, I've been working the steps on my own and without the guidance of a sponsor. Perhaps it's not the best idea, but for me, it's workable for the moment. Anyhoo... During that time, something must've clicked. For someone who's been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and having been on who knows how many different medications (and thus my goal has been to manage without the drugs screwing with my emotions, my memory, my body and my personality ... among other things), and who's moods cycle rapidly like a never-ending rollercoaster -- I have been told that my cycling is almost...but not quite...as level as when I was taking the medication. Not only can I say there is something profound and life changing about the steps no matter if you work them with a sponsor or solitary as I do, but there is also a kind of healing power that stretches beyond recovery of our addictions. Is this faith? I honestly can't say that I have an answer to that. What I can say is that I don't 'feel' much of a need or an attachment to the darkest sides of myself. Instead, when I gaze upon those images that takes up space on my harddrives, not only do I still find a sense of beauty in the broken, but I don't feel as if I can connect with that part of myself any longer. Just having come to that recent realization seems strange, yet profound to me somehow.
Tags: Tired
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