"Sometimes you don't realize the weight of something you've been carrying until you feel the weight of its release."

Ugh, where to start?

I went back to work April 23rd. Everybody was welcoming and nobody asked me a damn thing, which was good. My buyer was fantastic. The HR woman did everything right. But by Tuesday, the very goddamn next day, I was riding the struggle bus. I went to work but only because I knew I had Wednesday off. I had worked that out with the HR woman....to have Wednesday's off for a month to ease me back into it. Thursday rolled around and I was the same. Struggling to force myself to go. Friday was fine because, well, it was Friday. The next week wasn't good at all. I cried Monday for no fucking reason. Started in the a.m., continued through lunch. I don't know why. Who the fuck knows why. I did and it sucked. But I worked and that was good, right? I texted a friend to help boost me the next day because I knew I would need it. He did and it worked. Wednesday was a good day. Went to my CB AA meeting and ran errands.

Finally, after 5 years of living here, replaced the light above the kitchen sink, with Dad's help of course.

I love it and my dad is a rock star. It was not an easy task to accomplish, but he did it and it works and it's awesome and I love it.

So Wednesday was good. However, I woke up Thursday and called in. Said I was nauseous. I honestly have no recollection of whether or not I actually was. Maybe I was, but probably because I made myself that way by worrying myself to it. I don't know why. Why do I have this wall I can't break through when it comes to work? When did all this shit start? Why do I allow it to continue?

I fought with myself again Friday a.m. and finally came to "Fuck it. I fucking give up. I cannot fight this goddamn battle anymore." And I called HR and quit for good. She understood. I cried all damn day.

A friend of mine who has been around me the past couple of months said to me, "Amy, you haven't been right for 2 months. Your sleep is all jacked up. You're up one minute, down the next. Something isn't right." And it hit me. How did I not see it before? Because I get in my own head and just think I'm a worthless piece of shit who should just die and release everybody in my life from having to deal with this big fucking burden that I feel I am. But having someone say to me, "You're not okay" makes me realize I'm not. You're right. I'm not. I am not okay. This isn't okay. This isn't me.

This shirt didn't work. At all.

And so I finally got with my med check lady and said as much as I hate anti-psychotics, I would take anything she thought would help. Anti-psychotics fuck up my body and make me suicidal, but if they even me out, then so be it. It's a give & take. She found something that isn't an anti-psychotic but is simply a mood stabilizer and I've been taking it since this past Tuesday. I've also been on a high dose antibiotic which is fucking up my body. My mouth tastes like....sour milk. I don't know. It's disgusting. But today was my final day of it so from here on out, I should be able to tell how the new mood stabilizer is effecting me, good or bad. It has the potential to cause blisters around the mouth and nose (mucus membranes) so that's fun! *eye roll* It's unlikely, but why can't a side effect be spontaneous orgasms or something exciting like that? *sigh*

So I'm unemployed and feel like a loser and I'm still crying sporadically for various reasons, but I don't want to end my life and I see that as an improvement. Obviously.

This new drug....I knew I'd been on it before so I went back through my old journals and found when I was on it before and how it effected me. 03-04 and I didn't write anything bad about it, so there's that. However, I was drinking pretty heavily so I'm sure it didn't work as well as it could have. Hopefully this time is better.

It was hard reading those journals. I'm glad I keep them for the above reason because I've been on numerous medications throughout the past 20 years and need those journals as references. But damn. I wish I could burn every fucking one of them. And I may.

Here's what I realized.

I am no goddamn different than I was 17 years ago. I'm the same fucked up goddamn idiot I was then. The only difference is I'm not drinking.

Now, my therapist would remind me.... I am absolutely not the same person. I've grown in those 17 years. I have a greater understanding of myself and others in my life.

But....

My journals were a lot about my relationships with men. And with Mom. And my life today is a lot of the same. Men and Mom.

I feel free to write about Mom here because I'm pretty sure she doesn't read this shit ever. It's too goddamn depressing and I don't blame her one bit.

So here goes.

What I read in the journals was a lot of "Poor me. Why doesn't my family reach out to me? Why don't they check on me? Do they care at all? Hell, I could be dead and they wouldn't know for months because nobody checks in." I still feel that way today, lol. I live a block away from my parents and I'm pretty sure it'd be a good week before someone realized, "Hm, haven't seen or heard from Amy in awhile. Maybe we should check on her." And then it'd probably be another week before they actually did and by that time, Garfield would have eaten my bloated, gassy body and my neighbors would wonder what the smell is emanating from my house. Yep. That's how I envision it happening. I'll choke on some stupid food and lie here for weeks rotting before anybody noticed.

And isn't that sad & depressing? Yep, it sure is.

But here's what.... It would be my own goddamn fault.

That's what I realized reading those journals. It was all "Why don't THEY...." Hell, why don't I? ME. The phone works both ways. I hear my own mother say that all the time about her mother. Grandma complains no one calls her. Well, guess what? You have a telephone too. So here I am, perpetuating the cycle of "poor me", "you take care of me". And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my behavior and my attitude and my part in relationships and, and, and.

Step Four anyone? "Made a searching and fearless inventory of ourselves." This is my start.

How am I responsible? How have my actions played a part in my relationships with others and myself?

Take men, for example. This is where the rubber hits the road for me. Fearless inventory. OK, here goes.

I use men to feel a semblance of love. While, yes, I enjoy sex, honestly, I use sex to feel close to another human being. I feel unlovable. I don't feel worthy of anyone's love. And so in order for me to feel some form of "love", I use sex. And then I dismiss them. Your services are no longer needed or wanted. You're getting too close for comfort. You may actually see the real Amy so I'm gonna kick you to the curb before you can kick me to the curb. I will hurt you before you can hurt me. Or if you hurt me first, that's it. My level of trust in you is gone and I may try, but our life will never be the same. I will always hold myself back and protect my being at all costs. Because it hurts too damn much to feel and I can't drink that shit away anymore so I've found another way to protect myself. Build a goddamn wall around me of defenses.

You have no idea how hard that is for me to admit. Because when I say I use men for sex, that's all you're gonna see. You're not going to see that I honestly do enjoy sex and my libido has been raging for 2 years. You're not going to see the real work I've done trying to be in 2 loving relationships in that time. All you're going to see is "She uses men for sex. I knew it." And that's where my fear comes in. People thinking less of me or interpreting my honest assessment as something other than what I mean it to be.

Just because I have and continue to use men for sex does not mean I haven't loved and been loved in the past. I have and I do to this day love. As much as I am capable of loving anyone, I have loved Chris and Ricky. And if I'm fucking honest with myself, I fucking love Phil and I hate him for it. *eye roll* There's obviously still work to be done, but reading those journals and realizing my apparent lack of growth was a very rude awakening for this almost 43 year old woman.

Jesus.

When I did Step Four before, it was pretty easy. It's easy, because as a woman, we're good at finding our faults. We feel guilty about everything. We feel (& are made to feel by society) shame for simply being female.

But this time.... this time is different. I still want to do it. I'm actually looking forward to it, in a way. I want to change. I want growth. I do not want to come out of this the same person I was yesterday. I want more. I deserve more. We all do. However, it makes me very anxious to fearlessly look at the deep down core shit that I've clung to for decades and it scares me to think of releasing those defenses. As shitty as they are, they've brought me to this point. Good or bad. They've made me who I am today. I thank them for that. But I don't want to be this person anymore. I want to be more. I want to be better.

And I can be.

"It is possible to be so ignorant that you do not know how ignorant you are."

If you don't know you're doing something, did you actually do it?

First off, I spoke to the AA guy Thursday. We went to a public place and talked and I left it at that. He was hopeful. I was less than. I picked him up for the meeting Thursday evening and 2 minutes before we got there, he told me he had spoken to another member about us (my older gentleman shopping friend) and boy, oh boy. Did that piss me off.

I told him that was a dick move. We had agreed not to involve AA in our "relationship". He chose that person on purpose because he knew we were friends. I didn't speak at that meeting and people could tell I was "off" and I ended up leaving that guy there. He could find his own way home.

He texted and apologized. I didn't respond. He texted last night that he was going through some shit and I told him to contact an AA man.

He was at the meeting this morning, which I felt really good during. I mean....really good. But afterward, he texted me again and said he needed to talk. I again told him to contact an AA man. He said it wasn't about AA.

Well, sort of.

I stopped at his place before coming home and he was a self-righteous asshole, telling me I "claim" to have 6 years sobriety, that I'm a massive manipulator, that I'm vindictive.  I think he just didn't like seeing me happy, to be honest. And fuck him for questioning my fucking 6 + years of sobriety. FUCK. HIM. I've worked my ass off for those 6 years. Just because I'm not like everyone else doesn't make me less sober, motherfucker.  AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Fuck. You. Very. Much.

I'll work my program, you work yours. Keep your own side of the street clean. Asshole.

But then he said I 13th Stepped him and I know the look on my face was, "WTF?"

I had never heard of the 13th Step or "13th Stepping someone" until today and I had to come home and google that shit.

And lo & behold, I did. I 13th Stepped that guy. I could make all sorts of excuses. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a 13th Step! He was the one who gave me his number, not the other way around. I was very clear about not wanting to date a newbie. He was persistent. Yada, yada, yada.

It's all bullshit. Because I have over 6 years in sobriety. I'm the one who should have known better. I'm the one who had the "power" because of those years and because of his newness. I put him in a very vulnerable state and did I take advantage of that? I suppose I did. I wasn't aware that's what I was doing. I thought I was simply feeding a need and he was a more-than-willing participant. 

But that's like saying a drunk 14 year old girl "consents" to having sex with an older boy.  No, no she doesn't. She's incapable of giving consent because 1. She's 14! and 2. She's drunk. HE has all of the power. She has none.

I've made my apology to him. He did not accept it. I called to make the amend and left it at that. He called me back and said he doesn't accept my apology, he doesn't want anything to do with me until I....well, he's basically trying to work my program, which doesn't ever work, so I'm gonna leave it at that. He said he's still available for a booty call. 

Um, no. Never again. Not on your life.

So I texted him that I simply wanted to make my apology. I was unaware, but that's no excuse. I should've known better. I think he's right, that we should not engage with each other anymore and that I wish him all the best.

He sent me back the

Understandable. 

However, I do believe he's attempting to manipulate me. He's a massive manipulator, which is what he claims I am as well. Perhaps I am and that's why I see through his shit so easily.  

I think what's best for me (& him & the group) is to step away from the AA meetings in that particular town. Man, I'm going to fucking miss those people, but to save my reputation and to show that I am not a 13th Stepper Predator (jesus fuck), I think that's for the best. I'll continue to chair my own meeting Sunday mornings and those who choose to come will be welcome, of course. I hope to see those from the meetings I've been attending there. 

Goddamn. How did I get into this mess? My vag, that's fucking how. Stupid vag.  She's not doing the thinking for me anymore.