I’ve had better week-ends.

Yesterday was what I can only describe as a “dull” kind of day. Not dull in the sense that it was boring, but dull in the sense that my emotions were brought to a place that I can only describe as flat, lackluster, colorless, listless…I could go on, but you get the picture. I was in bed, reading, not wanting to do anything remotely physical. I fell asleep and had a horrible dream where I was standing beside my car and, all of a sudden, a SWAT team descended upon it, ripping it to shreds, looking for “something.” When they had sufficiently demolished the inside of the vehicle, they all just left, except for one tall, dark, official looking figure who walked up to me and said, “Ms. Bauler, I’ve just pulled up your records and it looks like you’ve led a pretty interesting life.” I then awoke and was left with completing this scenario via the committee in my head… not, may I say, a good place to go for positive re-enforcement, if you’re an addict who is debating whether or not to sit on the pity pot today.

After I put my emotions back in order, it was time to meet my sponsor for some 9th step work. For those of you who have, or are in the process of making amends, let me say that I have the sincerest respect for your commitment to this part of the recovery process. After reading several letters to my sponsor, we then talked about the physical work of amends-making. We came upon an issue that I was told I had to address personally and I was absolutely frozen with fear at the course of action she said was necessary for me to pursue. I left our appointment and immediately went to a meeting, hoping to feel better. I brought up the topic of “making amends” and listened carefully as everyone shared their version of this part of recovery. I left feeling numb and just wanted this day to be over. I have decided that other opinions are in order and have made an appointment with my pastor to discuss the issue.

It’s now Sunday afternoon and I’m waiting for it to storm. My dogs are going into apoplexy as they await the inevitable boom of thunder and 3 of them have been appropriately dosed with xanax so they can somehow get through the storm without swallowing their own tongues. I have just hung up the phone after speaking to (or should I say “listening to”) someone in the program - a tormented soul whose struggle with this disease has been raging for 15 brutal years… a Jekyll and Hyde concoction of purity and evil, both fighting ceaselessly to permanently inhabit this human form. Today Dr. Jekyll seems to be home, but Mr. Hyde lurks around every corner. Today there is purity, willingness, and even naivet’e in the voice, and there is a sliver of stability, at least for this moment. But today, I am weary at being the ear on the other end of the phone. I have had my own suffering this week-end and don’t want to put on my cheerleading outfit right now. I don’t want to scream or rant or rave - I just want the dullness to go away.

Till Next Time -

Your Humble Road Warrior