So - once upon a time, there were three sisters. The eldest had red hair and was prone to anxiety. The middle sister also had red hair, and was very private. The youngest had blonde hair and was a happy girl, with a touch of worrying.
These three girls are my sisters and I - we are 36, 34 and 33 respectively. We are all Christians, although we are all very different Christians, with very different lives. I was thinking about Christianity and how a lot of times, it gets a bad rap for hate, scandal and greed. I wanted to let you in on how it's possible to worship Jesus and God in a way that is genuine and honest to you, and yet to be very very different in the ways that you approach your faith.
Let's start with me, because let's face it - talking about me is one of my favourite things to do. I had a lot of years away from the church - where I was out living the party life, drinking and kissing boys and getting myself into terrible trouble. During times of terrible trouble, I'd turn to God and start going back to church. I'd try to repent and to stop making rude jokes, to help out with the youth group and stop binge drinking. I lived a bit of a double life, advising the girls to wait for their true love, then going home and getting changed into lurid outfits and hitting the town. I had a spiritual awakening about nine years ago, when I realised that I had to stop living a double life. I'd been praying for a husband and yet my younger sister was the one who got engaged first. I was terribly angry with God, but didn't realise that my partner in the bridal party would go on to be my husband. It was like God said to me "huh, do you think I'd leave you all alone to make this decision? Here he is, the one you were waiting for - I had it planned all along. Why didn't you just trust me?"
So, I've learned to trust God and during the time when I had intense and severe Post Natal Depression, my faith developed. I realised that God had a plan and a purpose for my life, and that I had to stop thinking that I could know what was best for me - that I had to trust him and just do my best - learn to stop trying to control everything...to surrender and let go absolutely.
These days, I attend church with my hubs and son, teach Sunday school, support gay marriage, am pro choice, love dirty jokes and movies with Kirsten Wiig in them. I've learnt that I don't have to say goodbye to my racy sense of humour - God gave it to me for a reason....but that I do need to learn where to unleash it. I am very open to other religions, and have seen lots of people have spiritual experiences that don't involve Jesus. I struggle with the idea of one true faith, but I know that I can't not believe in Jesus.
The next sister had a period of illness in her early teens, where she suffered terribly with Chronic Fatigue. During those dark times, her faith developed, and she was one of those well balanced girls, who concentrated more on her books and her faith than boys. Our mother's faith was also an amazing example to her, as it has been to all of us. She got her license before I did, and had a wide circle of friends. She was always interested in other cultures, and wanted to travel. Funnily enough, as the one who didn't really care about boyfriends, she ended up with the most interest. Perhaps it was because she wasn't interested? Perhaps because she trusted God with the outcome? She studied hard, became a vet, and whilst she studied, she traveled the world, had lots of adventures and lived in America for a year.
These days, she lives in a small country town, and attends church with her husband and five children, was the first of us to be married and have a baby. Although she's settled down, she has by no means settled, she took her first born to Japan and is always scheming the latest trip to visit friends far and wide. She supports a number of organisations that ensure the rights of unborn children, mothers in need and those who have had terminations and who need counselling. She's loving and giving and prays endlessly for the members of our family. She holds a bible study in her home and sends her children to a Christian school. Her husband preaches in their church and they frequently discuss the bible and how to better follow God. They don't observe the traditions of Santa, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, and have requested that the family not give their children any characters that could be seen to have magic at their core. No Power Rangers, No Ben 10, No Fairies.
I don't always agree with all their decisions, and they don't always agree with mine, but our Venn Diagram of faith overlaps in many areas, and we are able to respect the other's opinion, even though we may not agree with it.
Moving on to youngest sister. She and the middle sister attended many christian camps and workshops in their teen years. Youngest sis is a very talented cook, and catered for many church camps, and was happy and cheery and loved organising her friends into races and active things. She got her drivers license earlier than I did, and was often the designated driver to parties. She was more social than middle sister, but still studious. She studied hard and excelled at Uni. Her faith developed during a difficult time, when she was the only child left at home and things were very busy in the family business. She would probably have liked a boyfriend, but I think the cautionary tale of my unhappiness with chasing boys and her faith made her content with what she had.
These days, she is an Assistant Minister at an Anglican church in Sydney. She's an accomplished cook and is a very caring lady. She wears the full frock and collar (when necessary), but when she was ordained, she wore a pink shirt and high heels, when everyone else was in black. She is moderate, and believes that life is hard but that God is grace. She is a big fan of Harry Potter, Dr Who, The Big Bang Theory and Legally Blonde. She often runs 14km a day, lost 40kg over two years and is addicted to the bustle of city life. She loves technology and is incredibly funny. She has a black cat, Max, who she adores, and lives with two very cool flatmates. She is infectiously happy and loves "Miranda" more than I do.
Despite our differences, or perhaps because of them, we all still worship the same God. We believe that God has his hand on our lives, that he sent his son Jesus to die for our sins, and that he is the way to have a relationship with God. Same God, but very different people. So, please don't switch off when you hear that we're Christians. We may have the same core beliefs, but there are many different flavours.
What is your experience of Christianity?
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
A message from an ex-dancing queen to Em Rusciano
I have been thinking a lot about Em Rusciano's post on Mamamia yesterday. - http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/im-not-a-mother-first-and-a-person-second/
And, it brought up a lot of stuff for me. I'll admit it, first I went all judgey, and wondered why she was still going out when she had kids. And then, I realised that she was right - she has the perfect right to dance on a podium, get dressed up and enjoy a night out. Why does it bother me so much?
Why?
Because I can't be that mum. And, that comes with a bit of grief for me. As readers of my blog know, I'm nine years sober and mostly happy about that. But, to have a sustained sobriety, I have to avoid the old places. I have to check myself before I literally wreck myself....it would be all too easy to fall back into drinking to make me feel good about myself, then ending up a messy wreck, doing things I don't like with people I hardly know, losing my self respect, probably losing my marriage and perhaps even access to my son. Yes, it was that bad at the end. My husband and son have never seen me drink, and I never want them to.
I know from my friends in AA, that if you go to places where the drinks are flowing, that sooner or later, you'll drink. As the saying goes, "there's only so many times that you can sit in the hairdresser's chair before you get a haircut". My life has had to change because of my illness, and mostly, I'm okay with that....but it makes me feel different! Which, I guess I am....but I realised that I had a message for Em, as I read her article.
Em - you are foxy, and go girl, for going out and partying. That's great that you can do that without compromising your family and relationships. (Apart from those nosey parkers who judge!) But, just because I'm not on a podium dancing, or because I can't have drinks with the girls, doesn't mean I'm a party pooper. My life is different to yours, but I like to think that I'm still fun. So, even though you say that you have little in common with the 40 something mums at school, try sharing a racy joke with them occasionally. You might be surprised....we might have been waiting for the opportunity to make you laugh. Don't judge a book by it's un-sequined, non-podium dancing cover.
Love,
Deb xx
And, it brought up a lot of stuff for me. I'll admit it, first I went all judgey, and wondered why she was still going out when she had kids. And then, I realised that she was right - she has the perfect right to dance on a podium, get dressed up and enjoy a night out. Why does it bother me so much?
Why?
Because I can't be that mum. And, that comes with a bit of grief for me. As readers of my blog know, I'm nine years sober and mostly happy about that. But, to have a sustained sobriety, I have to avoid the old places. I have to check myself before I literally wreck myself....it would be all too easy to fall back into drinking to make me feel good about myself, then ending up a messy wreck, doing things I don't like with people I hardly know, losing my self respect, probably losing my marriage and perhaps even access to my son. Yes, it was that bad at the end. My husband and son have never seen me drink, and I never want them to.
I know from my friends in AA, that if you go to places where the drinks are flowing, that sooner or later, you'll drink. As the saying goes, "there's only so many times that you can sit in the hairdresser's chair before you get a haircut". My life has had to change because of my illness, and mostly, I'm okay with that....but it makes me feel different! Which, I guess I am....but I realised that I had a message for Em, as I read her article.
Em - you are foxy, and go girl, for going out and partying. That's great that you can do that without compromising your family and relationships. (Apart from those nosey parkers who judge!) But, just because I'm not on a podium dancing, or because I can't have drinks with the girls, doesn't mean I'm a party pooper. My life is different to yours, but I like to think that I'm still fun. So, even though you say that you have little in common with the 40 something mums at school, try sharing a racy joke with them occasionally. You might be surprised....we might have been waiting for the opportunity to make you laugh. Don't judge a book by it's un-sequined, non-podium dancing cover.
Love,
Deb xx
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Total Control
Does anyone else out there remember a movie called "She's Out of Control"? It was a totally awesome 80s movie, featuring a makeover that made a shy, bookish girl totally irresistible to the opposite sex. Her father, played by Tony Danza, freaks out about this, and tries to stop it by a tactic that he calls "Total Control".
Like most control freaks, he's doomed to failure. And I was thinking about poor old Tony Danza in this film, and how "Total Control" doesn't work. At all. In fact, it makes things a lot worse.
You know there's a metaphor coming, don't you? Yes, well...those who know me, will know that I am somewhat of a control freak. Not the control freak who has to have a clean house. That would be nice. Mess, I can live with, but when people start doing things in a way that I don't like, I'm not so cool.
And I have learned to evolve from this. Back 15 years ago, I was a very very judgemental 21 year old, who thought that most people were "sheep" and that "it would be so much easier to be stupid, as I wouldn't be troubled by all these agonising thoughts". I was also a grammar Nazi of the highest degree and judged books by their covers. Needless to say, life wasn't easy, as I catapulted into many other people living their lives and doing things that I didn't think were right. I judged, I judged hard. And the one I judged the hardest, was myself. I hated lots of people, places and things, but the one I reserved the most hatred for, was myself. I never knew why. But from the age of about 8, I can remember viciously hating myself and who I was. Wanting to be someone else. Watching other people and finding out the right and wrong ways to do things. Trying to imitate them. Not trusting myself, not knowing who I was, but knowing that whatever it was that lurked inside me, it was damaged and untrustworthy. Other people had the answers. But not the stupid people.
It wasn't much fun being trapped in judgement like that, and over the past 15 years, I have sought various therapies to combat these disordered ways of thinking. And I like to think that I'm fairly evolved...but do you know what? I'm still a victim of "Total Control". I don't like just going with the flow...unless I decide to. I hate surprises. It has been brought to my attention by my brilliant psychiatrist, Dr Chakrabarti, and my clever mama, that I still try too hard to manage the way that other people see me. I love myself these days, but I still want to control the way that you see me. I still want a barrier between us. I still hide. I still want people to behave the way that I want, but I reserve the right to change what that way is at any given moment. No wonder it is confusing to be in my head, let alone in my life.
My past is littered with friends who I have totally confused by my inability to be real with them. My insistence on managing how often we contact each other. My insistence on the interactions that we have. My anger when things don't go my way. My repeated attempts, when we grow apart, to bring us closer together, to prove that I am cool and funny and interesting....that end up looking needy and even frightening. I am scared of how much I want to be liked, how much I need social interaction and roles in society to prove my worth and my function. I must manage socialising or I fear I will cease to exist. I don't trust that at my essence, I will be satisfactory.
I realised yesterday that I think if I don't chase people and convince them to be my friend, that I won't have any friends. How screwed up is that? A friend of mine recently withdrew from friendships and obligations, and I didn't understand her thinking. How could she do that, how could she trust that people would still remember her. I remember her saying that it was a way of trusting God more. And I now totally and completely get that. God does not want me to live in isolation, he has made us for relationships with each other. But the thing is, that he wants to be first. He has amazing, wonderful, beautiful things in store for us that way outweigh the pitiful attempts that we make to manage and control our own lives. And I think I've reached that point. I keep ending up at the same spot..and saying "If I do the same thing, perhaps I'll get a different result"...which, as we know, is in-freakin-sanity!
I'm scared, but I'm ready to let go. I want God in control of my life and I want to stop being Tony Danza. No more "Total Control".
I want to give God all of me and see what he has in store when I stop orchestrating my life and the way people see me. I have been made this way and put in this place for a reason. Time to start living in the sun and stop hiding in the dark.
Love
Deb :)
Like most control freaks, he's doomed to failure. And I was thinking about poor old Tony Danza in this film, and how "Total Control" doesn't work. At all. In fact, it makes things a lot worse.
You know there's a metaphor coming, don't you? Yes, well...those who know me, will know that I am somewhat of a control freak. Not the control freak who has to have a clean house. That would be nice. Mess, I can live with, but when people start doing things in a way that I don't like, I'm not so cool.
And I have learned to evolve from this. Back 15 years ago, I was a very very judgemental 21 year old, who thought that most people were "sheep" and that "it would be so much easier to be stupid, as I wouldn't be troubled by all these agonising thoughts". I was also a grammar Nazi of the highest degree and judged books by their covers. Needless to say, life wasn't easy, as I catapulted into many other people living their lives and doing things that I didn't think were right. I judged, I judged hard. And the one I judged the hardest, was myself. I hated lots of people, places and things, but the one I reserved the most hatred for, was myself. I never knew why. But from the age of about 8, I can remember viciously hating myself and who I was. Wanting to be someone else. Watching other people and finding out the right and wrong ways to do things. Trying to imitate them. Not trusting myself, not knowing who I was, but knowing that whatever it was that lurked inside me, it was damaged and untrustworthy. Other people had the answers. But not the stupid people.
It wasn't much fun being trapped in judgement like that, and over the past 15 years, I have sought various therapies to combat these disordered ways of thinking. And I like to think that I'm fairly evolved...but do you know what? I'm still a victim of "Total Control". I don't like just going with the flow...unless I decide to. I hate surprises. It has been brought to my attention by my brilliant psychiatrist, Dr Chakrabarti, and my clever mama, that I still try too hard to manage the way that other people see me. I love myself these days, but I still want to control the way that you see me. I still want a barrier between us. I still hide. I still want people to behave the way that I want, but I reserve the right to change what that way is at any given moment. No wonder it is confusing to be in my head, let alone in my life.
My past is littered with friends who I have totally confused by my inability to be real with them. My insistence on managing how often we contact each other. My insistence on the interactions that we have. My anger when things don't go my way. My repeated attempts, when we grow apart, to bring us closer together, to prove that I am cool and funny and interesting....that end up looking needy and even frightening. I am scared of how much I want to be liked, how much I need social interaction and roles in society to prove my worth and my function. I must manage socialising or I fear I will cease to exist. I don't trust that at my essence, I will be satisfactory.
I realised yesterday that I think if I don't chase people and convince them to be my friend, that I won't have any friends. How screwed up is that? A friend of mine recently withdrew from friendships and obligations, and I didn't understand her thinking. How could she do that, how could she trust that people would still remember her. I remember her saying that it was a way of trusting God more. And I now totally and completely get that. God does not want me to live in isolation, he has made us for relationships with each other. But the thing is, that he wants to be first. He has amazing, wonderful, beautiful things in store for us that way outweigh the pitiful attempts that we make to manage and control our own lives. And I think I've reached that point. I keep ending up at the same spot..and saying "If I do the same thing, perhaps I'll get a different result"...which, as we know, is in-freakin-sanity!
I'm scared, but I'm ready to let go. I want God in control of my life and I want to stop being Tony Danza. No more "Total Control".
I want to give God all of me and see what he has in store when I stop orchestrating my life and the way people see me. I have been made this way and put in this place for a reason. Time to start living in the sun and stop hiding in the dark.
Love
Deb :)
Sunday, July 1, 2012
This is where it all began
Chapter One.
My life began the way it continues to be - with a family who cherishes me. I was always supported, always given love and had two parents who had fun together, and with us separately. They brought us up to believe in God, and Mum especially always had time to listen to us and our feelings.
So why did I feel so scared all the time? I guess I've always been predisposed to anxiety. It's in my genetic lottery. Many generations of my ancestors have suffered from the black dog and his worrywart relatives. I believe I was destined to walk the journey that I have.....although it took me a long time to find acceptance about who I am and why I am the way I am.
I remember being terrified for a large portion of my life. I was scared of school, scared of leaving my mum. The only time I wasn't really scared was safe in the bosom of my family. I was an extrovert at home and an introvert in public. I was so shy, that I couldn't speak a lot of the time, and had a good line in blushing.
I didn't go to the toilet or eat my lunch a lot of the time at Kinder (first year of school), because the mean boys stood outside and said they were going to catch and kiss us. A well adjusted child would have potentially just went in - I was a bit prone to going to extremes, and so developed a fear of men that kinda still haunts me to this day.
My life began the way it continues to be - with a family who cherishes me. I was always supported, always given love and had two parents who had fun together, and with us separately. They brought us up to believe in God, and Mum especially always had time to listen to us and our feelings.
So why did I feel so scared all the time? I guess I've always been predisposed to anxiety. It's in my genetic lottery. Many generations of my ancestors have suffered from the black dog and his worrywart relatives. I believe I was destined to walk the journey that I have.....although it took me a long time to find acceptance about who I am and why I am the way I am.
I remember being terrified for a large portion of my life. I was scared of school, scared of leaving my mum. The only time I wasn't really scared was safe in the bosom of my family. I was an extrovert at home and an introvert in public. I was so shy, that I couldn't speak a lot of the time, and had a good line in blushing.
I didn't go to the toilet or eat my lunch a lot of the time at Kinder (first year of school), because the mean boys stood outside and said they were going to catch and kiss us. A well adjusted child would have potentially just went in - I was a bit prone to going to extremes, and so developed a fear of men that kinda still haunts me to this day.
See her? She's 6, but she's scared of the photographer and the big flash. I can see the fear in my eyes. It's actually my standard smile! When I was 5, we moved to Papua New Guinea, and lived on Igam Barracks in Lae. Dad was in the army, and working as a doctor. I suppose there was a lot to be scared of, the threat of violence and being in a different country. I don't think it really impacted me adversely, but I did continue my fear of both boys and toilets. I didn't go to the bathroom at school at all, because there were no doors on the stalls. I remember one horrendous day on the bus, when I couldn't hold my bladder any longer, and peed in my pants. I was sitting over the aisle from my younger sister, Jen, and watched transfixed, as the yellow trail crept along my seat, and dribbled onto the aisle. The trail worked its way towards the bus driver, then as the bus gained momentum and lurched along the streets, it doubled back on itself, and headed towards the big kids down the back of the bus. Jen and I stared at each other in horror.......and sure enough, soon one of the big kids noticed.... "Who did a wee in the bus!!", they gaped in disgust. Funnily enough, that's where my memory ends. I suppose that I got off the bus all wet, or put my bag behind me. I certainly don't remember being particularly traumatised by it.
What I do remember being traumatised by, is the boys who lived on Barracks. I was constantly scared of them. I don't really know why. I don't know what I thought they would do to me. I do remember one of mum and dad's friends teasing me, and I was very worried by what he said. "My, isn't she a tall girl?",he said as he smiled down at me. I ducked my head and flushed. "She's a lucky girl", he continued, "She's got nice long legs that will help her run away from all those boys who are going to chase her!". At this, he laughed uproariously. I was gripped by anxiety. Boys...chasing me? Again? Like Kiss Chasey? I pictured myself running really fast and the boys chasing after me. What would happen when they caught me? I didn't like to think about it, and resolved not to talk to any boys. That way nothing bad could happen.
It probably didn't help that I was the eldest of three girls. We socialised a bit, and I sometimes played with the boys on barracks, but I didn't really trust them. At any stage they could start to chase me, or do something strange. Boys were different to me and I didn't want any part of them. I had a best friend called Jordana, and I would hide beind the bus seats with her and pretend we were husband and wife. I liked that a lot better than playing with the boys.
In 1984, we returned to Australia, moving to Canberra, where dad got a government job. I started Year 3 and after a bout of pneumonia, moved schools to Trinity Christian School in Waniassa. I struggled with socialising and making friends. Apparently, the way I started a lifelong friendship, was to approach a girl, pin her up against the wall and say "I'm going to kill you!". This continued until I started saying "I'm going to kill you, but not today", until apparently the death threats stopped completely and we became friends. I don't remember this at all, but it fits in well with the idea that I was somewhat of a lonely, mixed up girl. Again - none of this was visible in my family (that I'm aware of) - at home, I was the oldest, I was happy to play games with my sisters and have fun with my mum and dad. I didn't know that usually people aren't two different personalities at home and at school. More was coming, too. Puberty was coming.....what fun that would be!
****
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Thinking about you, thinking about me..
I think in the psychological world, they call this feeling "Paranoia".
And yeah, cause I've been in therapy for a while, most of the time...I know that this feeling isn't real. I know that parenting and motherhood is a solitary game, most of the time. That you have to trust your instincts, that you have to make decisions and be happy with the decision that you've made. I also know that a lot of mums suffer from guilt. And I wouldn't like to say that I'm the guiltiest of mums, but I think I'm up there. Alex has been having lots of problems with sleeping and nightmares lately, so much so that we are taking him to a child psychologist to talk through the fears that he has. I am terrified that it's my fault!! That I've somehow damaged him and they're going to find out that I've done a crappy job. But, in my rational mind, I know that I have done the best that I can. That Alex is a well adjusted little boy, who is a little shy, and who has a vivid imagination. That's where the nightmares come from....I've even had that clarified by my best friend Jen......who had similar nightmares at a similar age - and as far as I know is leading a pretty creative and successful life!
So I need to stop doubting myself. Another favourite way of doubting myself is to look at the relationships that I have, and the ways in which I've let people down....the ways that I could have done things better. I was watching the Lion King with Alex on the weekend, and that Wise Old Baboon cracks Simba on the head. Simba says "that hurt!" and the Baboon says "yes, but it's in the past! You can't change it, but you can learn from it" So the next time he goes to crack Simba on the head, Simba ducks. He learns from his hurt.
Do I do that? Or do I just hurt from my hurt? I've been going over and over my dramatic exit from Weight Watchers.....and the people I hurt. And the hurt I feel. So much hurt. And is there a point to going back there? I still miss the friendship that I had with N and L, and if I'm honest, the kudos that came from being a Leader. Alex asked me tonight again, "why did you fight with your friends, mum? Why don't you work for Weight Watchers anymore?" and I told him - "buddy, mum wasn't very good at being a boss. She didn't like telling people what to do". I have very high standards of myself...and I want everything to be perfect. And I started to realise that I would put in way too much time ensuring that my clients were receiving the perfect service. That I'd think about them after hours and plan how I was going to help them and meeting their needs. That I was going to be the absolute best at everything. And if people didn't do things the way I wanted them to, I tried to be nice about it. But I hated having to ask. I wanted them to know the right way (my way) to do things. Instinctively! Without being told!
Oh...and I wanted reassurance constantly, that I was the best. Because I felt like I wasn't doing enough to be good, to help. I realise, looking back, that I was always asking them to prop me up. That I was always relying on them to help me. And that I wasn't necessarily giving that back. I like to think of myself as kind of evolved when it comes to my emotions. But it's going back over things like this that makes me realise that I am controlling. That I am inflexible. That I am limited. That I want people to agree with me 100% of the time or I feel like crap. And that's not their fault. It's mine. It's something that I need to fix. And I can start by stopping the comparisons. Who cares if I have enough friends? Am I a good friend? Am I so worried about being perfect that I am an imperfect friend? My flawed and skewed perception of myself cuts me off from so much. But I can learn from this.
I can start to solve my own problems, and to be open to imperfections. Soooo much of my life has been opting out of things that I'm not good at. Not even trying, because I dont' like the way that coming last feels. And it's not about doing stuff that I hate...it's about living life. A life without fear. I have so much fear. And it makes me angry. Because I'm terrified that I'll be rumbled for the fraud I am. But what if I'm not a fraud? What if I'm the authentic me, the one that I don't think is good enough? And if I say "this is me, warts and all, the way God made me". and be proud of that, instead of waiting for the moment when I feel good enough. Living life, as me, and not looking around to see what everyone else is doing. Being happy in my own company, and taking each day as it comes.
I'm terrified that Alex is afraid, because I spent so much of my own childhood being afraid. But learning to accept that fear, and triumph over it, is a battle that only he can fight. As it's a battle only I can fight. I alone can do it, but I don't have to do it alone. My relationship with God gives me great comfort, if I would only let it. I try too hard to do it all myself, to be perfect before I come to God, or anyone for help. I would much rather be the helper than the helped. But that's arrogance. Of course we need help. Everyone needs help. Being vulnerable is not a crime...it's a necessity.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Jumping off...
I have had another article published on Mamamia - bam, just like that. Sent it off, and 24 hours later, 91 people have read it. Some people I do know, some people I don't. Crazy stuff. And good friends of mine are telling me that I should write a book. Whoa.
I guess I'll look at the reasons why this scares me!
- because it might be crap, and everyone will laugh
- because writing is something I enjoy and if I make a job out of it, will I still enjoy it?
- what if I suck? What if I don't suck? What if it's really good and I sabotage it?
- Richard is not keen for Alex or he to feature in this book. He says he just doesn't know that everyone needs to know everything about us. So I'm wondering if I need to still write it autobiographically, or do I write fiction?
- I know me, and I like approval. What if I get addicted to people approving of me and feel bad if they don't. I guess the answer to that is, to find other ways to define myself that don't centre around what I do. Which is kind of why I'm not rushing out to get another job - there is a lot of work to be done in the house, etc, but I don't want to jump into something else so that I don't have to think about the reasons why this last job didn't work out. I feel that I need to work on the ways I respond to conflict and the reasons that I do what I do. (see previous post on approval!!)
Reasons why I like it:
- Gosh, I love writing. If I could make a living out of it, then I would feel soooo happy!
- I am slightly/moderately/very egocentric and like the idea of my name being on the title of something, of achieved something, of everyone telling me HOW FREAKING AWESOME I AM!
haha.
- I love the feeling of constructing a sentence, and modifying it, of searching for the right word, of encapsulating what I am thinking and feeling. Of sharing that with other people and having them say "yes! That's how I felt, but I didn't know how to put it into words". The bible says not to hide our lights under a bushel. Maybe it's time to kick that bushel to the curb and just go for it?
Watch this space :) :)
I guess I'll look at the reasons why this scares me!
- because it might be crap, and everyone will laugh
- because writing is something I enjoy and if I make a job out of it, will I still enjoy it?
- what if I suck? What if I don't suck? What if it's really good and I sabotage it?
- Richard is not keen for Alex or he to feature in this book. He says he just doesn't know that everyone needs to know everything about us. So I'm wondering if I need to still write it autobiographically, or do I write fiction?
- I know me, and I like approval. What if I get addicted to people approving of me and feel bad if they don't. I guess the answer to that is, to find other ways to define myself that don't centre around what I do. Which is kind of why I'm not rushing out to get another job - there is a lot of work to be done in the house, etc, but I don't want to jump into something else so that I don't have to think about the reasons why this last job didn't work out. I feel that I need to work on the ways I respond to conflict and the reasons that I do what I do. (see previous post on approval!!)
Reasons why I like it:
- Gosh, I love writing. If I could make a living out of it, then I would feel soooo happy!
- I am slightly/moderately/very egocentric and like the idea of my name being on the title of something, of achieved something, of everyone telling me HOW FREAKING AWESOME I AM!
haha.
- I love the feeling of constructing a sentence, and modifying it, of searching for the right word, of encapsulating what I am thinking and feeling. Of sharing that with other people and having them say "yes! That's how I felt, but I didn't know how to put it into words". The bible says not to hide our lights under a bushel. Maybe it's time to kick that bushel to the curb and just go for it?
Watch this space :) :)
Friday, May 25, 2012
9 years sober today!!
One day at a time, the days turn into weeks, the weeks turn into months and the months turn into years.
Yes. They do.
So what's different today?
I have been married for nearly eight years. (that whole thing about not getting into a relationship when you first get sober? Totally ignored that. Met Richard when I was 3 weeks sober. I looked upon our meeting as my reward for not drinking. It is a lot easier to focus on your recovery when you're not in a new relationship, but that's why everyone gets into one. We don't want to focus on us when we could be focusing on something else - food, smoking, another person? Lucky for me that Richard was Mr Right, and is along for the long haul. He's been my rock)
I have a five and a half year old son. His name is Alex. He is beautiful. Today, when I wake up, I know that I won't have embarrassed him with my drunken antics, I won't have endangered his life by driving drunk. I may embarrass him in other ways, but at least I don't have to worry about the ones that I can't remember.
When I have a good time, it's real, and not the product of a glass of alcohol. It's a lot harder to have a good time when you're sober, cause alcohol is a magic carpet ride into the land of "gee whiz, everyone is HILARIOUS tonight!!".....everything seems funny until you wake up with vomit all over your new jacket, no money, the car parked at a crazy-jaunty angle in the car park and a sense of dread at the missing hours in the night that enabled you to get grass stains on your back. Yes, it takes more effort to have fun without alcohol. But it's real, and it lasts.
I have a good relationship with my family these days. I particularly have a friendship with my sisters, instead of always needing to be rescued by them. My approach to family occasions would be something like the line in that song "I love the good times that you wreck..."..... I could be counted on to pick a fight, to get too drunk, to show up with only half an hour's sleep and a massive hangover, reeking of alcohol. The fact that I have my sisters back is proof of their capacity to forgive and my capacity to change. It hasn't been easy, but it has been so worthwhile. My parents and I have a better relationship too, I am more able to look after myself and others than to always be the one needing scraping off the road.
I respect myself these days. Don't get me wrong - I desperately miss alcohol sometimes. I miss the ease that it gave me, I miss the ways in which I could be the life and soul of the party. But, the buzz I got from alcohol was shifty. I could never predict which nights would be the "wooohooo sister, we is having fuuuuun" and which nights would be the "you skanky ho, get away from my (ex)boyfriend, Ima punch you in the stomach". And no, I didn't ever get violent when I drank...but that didn't stop me from copping a punch in the guts once when an equally drunken lass didn't appreciate me giggling and dancing with her ex boyfriend.
And I started to become less trustworthy. I took to drunk driving. I took to getting friendly with inappropriate men. All the people I hung out with went home and I started hanging out with the hard party crew. And, as your parents would tell you - guess what comes with the hard party crew? DRUGS! Drugs are bad, mmmkay? Although they seem like fun when you're drunk. I was such a try hard, chameleon, trying to fit in with the people who I thought were the coolest. So when the people I hung around with started talking about drugs, I took on the lingo, and became so good at it, that everyone thought I was a speed freak. What a compliment, eh? So, when a cool guy offered me a line of speed at a party, thinking it wasn't my first....I felt so complimented that I had to accept. Are you surprised that I was a natural? They couldn't believe that it was my first time. And that made me feel like I was good at something. Good at taking drugs? What a talent.
I was starting to lose myself in the last days of my drinking. I felt like I was walking a line between a semblance of sanity, and tipping off into lu lu land. That could have been the pills I was taking when my new friends brought them out. I still like club music, but if I ever hear any songs about "I was so f#$ked up", It gives me the chills and I have to change the channel. That's what it's like... everyone comparing how out of it they are, and how wasted they are, how they can't see and it's sooooo cooool to be so wasted. Did you know that you gurn and grit your teeth when you are on drugs? it's really bad for your teeth. One of my friends, a hairdresser, had to have a few of her teeth removed cause of the drugs....and I have a missing tooth that reminds me of the ways that I started to neglect myself.
I'd always, always wake up feeling awful, alone and dreadful. Ashamed, guilty, dreadful. None of my other friends seemed to feel the same way, or if they did, were wayyy in denial. I knew things were bad when, after a particularly bad bender on a pill (which I didn't want to take until I got drunk), I couldn't leave the house. I hadn't driven, I had the car there, I could have walked to the shops. But I couldn't physically leave the house. It was like the paranoia and guilt were weighing down on me and stopping me from getting out. I didn't feel safe. I had no choice but to eat my flatmate's chocolates. This caused trouble, as it would. But I felt it was justifiable. My behaviour was out of control. My housemates staged an intervention. I cried and told them it was none of their business.
I kept on drinking and dabbling in drugging. My life got worse. Then, one night, I went out drinking with some friends. I had started drinking quicker and quicker. The good, fun part of my drinking lasted for less time each time I drank. I'd go straight from "this is awkward, small talk, let's get pissed" to "dribbling, slurring, I just need to lie down for a sec", without a pause in the middle for "waheyyyyy!! Girls are having funnnnnn tonight!!". My drinking had really ceased to be much fun for anyone. That night, I crashed my car into a soccer field, completely missing the road to the highway I had to travel home on. As wake up calls go, you can't get much bigger than that. I was in a blackout. If I'd got on that Highway, I'd almost certainly have killed myself, or someone else. All the other points in my life, I'd ignored the signs. But here was one I couldn't ignore.
Two days later, on the 25th of May 2003, I attended my first AA meeting. I was 26, and sure I was too young for this program....but the stories I heard, I identified with. I craved the peace that the people there had. I admired the way that they had turned their lives around. I was arrogant, and thought I was different, but I stuck around. Things got a lot better from then on. Not right away, and not always. I still struggle with my addictive personality and with being "different". I wish I could go out for a fun night with the girls. I wish I could sit down with a fun glass of wine. But I'm just not confident that I could stop at one..... And my husband and son have never seen me drink, and I want to keep it that way. I just can't guarantee what would happen. So I will keep trudging this path of happy destinies and enjoy life on life's terms. I value what I have today, and a single glass of wine could undo that. It's just not worth it.
Yes. They do.
So what's different today?
I have been married for nearly eight years. (that whole thing about not getting into a relationship when you first get sober? Totally ignored that. Met Richard when I was 3 weeks sober. I looked upon our meeting as my reward for not drinking. It is a lot easier to focus on your recovery when you're not in a new relationship, but that's why everyone gets into one. We don't want to focus on us when we could be focusing on something else - food, smoking, another person? Lucky for me that Richard was Mr Right, and is along for the long haul. He's been my rock)
I have a five and a half year old son. His name is Alex. He is beautiful. Today, when I wake up, I know that I won't have embarrassed him with my drunken antics, I won't have endangered his life by driving drunk. I may embarrass him in other ways, but at least I don't have to worry about the ones that I can't remember.
When I have a good time, it's real, and not the product of a glass of alcohol. It's a lot harder to have a good time when you're sober, cause alcohol is a magic carpet ride into the land of "gee whiz, everyone is HILARIOUS tonight!!".....everything seems funny until you wake up with vomit all over your new jacket, no money, the car parked at a crazy-jaunty angle in the car park and a sense of dread at the missing hours in the night that enabled you to get grass stains on your back. Yes, it takes more effort to have fun without alcohol. But it's real, and it lasts.
I have a good relationship with my family these days. I particularly have a friendship with my sisters, instead of always needing to be rescued by them. My approach to family occasions would be something like the line in that song "I love the good times that you wreck..."..... I could be counted on to pick a fight, to get too drunk, to show up with only half an hour's sleep and a massive hangover, reeking of alcohol. The fact that I have my sisters back is proof of their capacity to forgive and my capacity to change. It hasn't been easy, but it has been so worthwhile. My parents and I have a better relationship too, I am more able to look after myself and others than to always be the one needing scraping off the road.
I respect myself these days. Don't get me wrong - I desperately miss alcohol sometimes. I miss the ease that it gave me, I miss the ways in which I could be the life and soul of the party. But, the buzz I got from alcohol was shifty. I could never predict which nights would be the "wooohooo sister, we is having fuuuuun" and which nights would be the "you skanky ho, get away from my (ex)boyfriend, Ima punch you in the stomach". And no, I didn't ever get violent when I drank...but that didn't stop me from copping a punch in the guts once when an equally drunken lass didn't appreciate me giggling and dancing with her ex boyfriend.
And I started to become less trustworthy. I took to drunk driving. I took to getting friendly with inappropriate men. All the people I hung out with went home and I started hanging out with the hard party crew. And, as your parents would tell you - guess what comes with the hard party crew? DRUGS! Drugs are bad, mmmkay? Although they seem like fun when you're drunk. I was such a try hard, chameleon, trying to fit in with the people who I thought were the coolest. So when the people I hung around with started talking about drugs, I took on the lingo, and became so good at it, that everyone thought I was a speed freak. What a compliment, eh? So, when a cool guy offered me a line of speed at a party, thinking it wasn't my first....I felt so complimented that I had to accept. Are you surprised that I was a natural? They couldn't believe that it was my first time. And that made me feel like I was good at something. Good at taking drugs? What a talent.
I was starting to lose myself in the last days of my drinking. I felt like I was walking a line between a semblance of sanity, and tipping off into lu lu land. That could have been the pills I was taking when my new friends brought them out. I still like club music, but if I ever hear any songs about "I was so f#$ked up", It gives me the chills and I have to change the channel. That's what it's like... everyone comparing how out of it they are, and how wasted they are, how they can't see and it's sooooo cooool to be so wasted. Did you know that you gurn and grit your teeth when you are on drugs? it's really bad for your teeth. One of my friends, a hairdresser, had to have a few of her teeth removed cause of the drugs....and I have a missing tooth that reminds me of the ways that I started to neglect myself.
I'd always, always wake up feeling awful, alone and dreadful. Ashamed, guilty, dreadful. None of my other friends seemed to feel the same way, or if they did, were wayyy in denial. I knew things were bad when, after a particularly bad bender on a pill (which I didn't want to take until I got drunk), I couldn't leave the house. I hadn't driven, I had the car there, I could have walked to the shops. But I couldn't physically leave the house. It was like the paranoia and guilt were weighing down on me and stopping me from getting out. I didn't feel safe. I had no choice but to eat my flatmate's chocolates. This caused trouble, as it would. But I felt it was justifiable. My behaviour was out of control. My housemates staged an intervention. I cried and told them it was none of their business.
I kept on drinking and dabbling in drugging. My life got worse. Then, one night, I went out drinking with some friends. I had started drinking quicker and quicker. The good, fun part of my drinking lasted for less time each time I drank. I'd go straight from "this is awkward, small talk, let's get pissed" to "dribbling, slurring, I just need to lie down for a sec", without a pause in the middle for "waheyyyyy!! Girls are having funnnnnn tonight!!". My drinking had really ceased to be much fun for anyone. That night, I crashed my car into a soccer field, completely missing the road to the highway I had to travel home on. As wake up calls go, you can't get much bigger than that. I was in a blackout. If I'd got on that Highway, I'd almost certainly have killed myself, or someone else. All the other points in my life, I'd ignored the signs. But here was one I couldn't ignore.
Two days later, on the 25th of May 2003, I attended my first AA meeting. I was 26, and sure I was too young for this program....but the stories I heard, I identified with. I craved the peace that the people there had. I admired the way that they had turned their lives around. I was arrogant, and thought I was different, but I stuck around. Things got a lot better from then on. Not right away, and not always. I still struggle with my addictive personality and with being "different". I wish I could go out for a fun night with the girls. I wish I could sit down with a fun glass of wine. But I'm just not confident that I could stop at one..... And my husband and son have never seen me drink, and I want to keep it that way. I just can't guarantee what would happen. So I will keep trudging this path of happy destinies and enjoy life on life's terms. I value what I have today, and a single glass of wine could undo that. It's just not worth it.
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