When I first started recovery, I remember feeling intimidated by it. I was concerned with what I had to lose because I've never truely been open or honest with others before. And certainly not myself. It was easier to come off as mysterious and enigmatic over all, however, to a select few, I've thrown out some pretty personal and painful moments. Only reflecting back on it, I was able to remain relatively detached.
Never did it occur to me that acknowledging my emotions was a factor. To do so means I would have to 'feel'... Whether it was a past memory or something I was contending with in the present.
I didn't want to give up the 'security blanket' of emotional avoidance and not having to 'deal' with anything. But you know what? I lost more by living behind the impenetratable brick wall I surrounded myself in...because people disappointed me.
It was all their fault because my happiness was their responsibility. It was all their fault because they were expected to read my mind to know what I was thinking, needing and feeling. Nevermind the fact that I participated in the misery too. Nevermind I acted in ways that is textbook codependent. I figured that if I cared more, loved more... If I burdened myself with another person's responsibility, and tried to fix what I thought was wrong with them... If I avoided conflict and said little as possible, yet tried in other ways to express my needs... That they would love me the way I wanted/expected to be and the life I envisioned in my mind, would be peachy keen.
For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I felt like such a doormat. The more I was disappointed, the harder I'd try. The harder I tried, the more despressed I became. The more depressed I became, the more I cut myself off emotionally from everyone. Especially from those who needed me the most - my kids.
Why wasn't anything going my way???
It got so bad that I didn't trust anybody. I didn't even trust my own mind.
In desperation, I got in touch with a councilor, who ended up putting me on various psychotropics. Only things got much worse. It seemed, to me, the more I reached out for help, I never got the help I 'needed'.
My rock bottom was when I lost my kids. When that happened, I was broken and simply gave up. And why not? Nothing was ever going to change...
A few years after said rock bottom and having been content in stewing in my personal hell for so long, I stumbled upon my soulmate. Literally. And during that brief encounter, he gave me the message that would eventually turn my life around. He introduced me to the 12 Steps. A tool that I would later come to use. However, I lost what was probably the best friendship I've ever had in my life... Even though I was willing, I couldn't bring myself to be open or honest.
The best thing I have ever done (so far) was open up and get honest with myself. Having to look in the proverbial mirror of everything I've ever done and acknowledge the feelings, especially the fear, that has driven much of my unhealthy behavior has been an eye opener. I have never considered my feelings, muchless express them as I wasn't taught how to growing up - and certainly not honestly, has played a vital role in something I didn't expect to find. Acceptance of myself.
Honestly, Openness and Willingness work hand in hand when it comes to life, relating to other people/relationships and recovery. Without it, I am doomed to fail.
What the Steps asks of us during our journey of recovery may seem like it's asking for 'too much', and some of it may even seem unreasonable. The first time I read the Steps, I arrogantly thought, "Gee, this is easy. I can do this in one day!" It never occured to me that it involved clearing out a life time's worth of crap.
Crap involving false ideas and beliefs that I've carried around - particularly the self-perception of being worthless, unlovable and a complete loser (boy, aren't those the fun 'old tapes' that can be a PITA to change...). Basicially having to acknowledge those fears...which I'm sure most of us have shared...and more or less outgrow the boogy-man hiding under the bed.
After all, nothing has power over us unless we give it the power... Right?
