There was no meeting I could get to on Saturday, but I did go to one on Sunday. I was a little pissy because I was made to be late by mutual disrespect for my schedule by both Roi and Lexi. Nothing overt, nor intentional, it just was as it is. (Note to self: keep working on stating my needs clearly.)
Sunday is the only s-anon meeting, so I opted to go to that. When I walked in there was only one other woman there. I recognized her from the meetings I had gone to before. She opened the meeting formally, but after that we simply "shared" back and forth. It was pleasant and easy and I suddenly felt like, "yeah, this is okay".
We went over the normal scheduled end time and I had to suddenly end it because I needed to get the car back home for Roi so he could go to his meeting. We ended with the serenity prayer, and since it was just the two of us, she took both my hands in hers.
As I drove home I reflected on my tendency to go things alone, to not turn to others for help. It's classic I suppose, the wanting to believe I am strong enough on my own, the not wanting to burden others, but most importantly the deep shame I feel over having let my life go so far afield and the resulting feeling that there is no way back now. It's too late. Some part of me knows this is foolish and prideful and it is "her" that I try to listen to in order to move my body to a meeting or to schedule time with a therapist.
But it's also not having met a therapist or potential sponsor yet that resonates deeply. Someone with deep intuition who can see things clearly, can see what needs to be said, what needs to be done, and how to work with me. A soulful and vajra-like spiritual advisor who can cut through my resistance swiftly and skillfully.
I once met a man, a Buddhist teacher, with whom I found this resonance. I was strangely drawn to him from the moment I came into his presence, and after a day or two I walked straight up to him and requested some time with him to talk. I had no idea what about, I just knew I needed to talk to him. He smiled and offered that we go for a walk the next day at lunch, and so we did. We sat together a short way down the road, and within minutes I was crying in great big gulping sobs. He told me three things. I, like him, carried deep wounds from being in a relationship with a deeply wounded person. I had an attraction that was "almost unholy". I carried myself with an edge, and I needed to soften.
The first and second needed no explanation, but I later asked him about the second thing he said because I was unsure of what he meant. He explained that I carried myself almost like a rock-star, like someone with supreme confidence, and with an attitude of not being willing to behave for anyone, and it scared people. And perhaps it attracted to me those who wanted to take some of this for themselves, or those who wished to steal it or squash it or challenge it.
I was stunned that he had been paying that much attention, and more stunned at the thought. It has haunted me for some time now. It is this that I seek. The teacher that sees through me, into me, and knows which things need turning, tweaking, growth, nurturing, and which things need to be softened, quelled, or thrown out. The teacher whose advice I can trust.