Sunday, May 1, 2011

in which the real pain begins

It's been an interesting few days. After deciding to write a book, I promptly decided to NOT write a book, and then decided that no, I should really write this book but maybe I won't publish it. Then again, maybe I will. 

Such has been my mind since last Thursday. 

I also decided that I think the Universe sending me one of Roi's booty-girls was actually a reminder that I was on the right track. As if she was forcing me to look this whole ugly thing in the face over and over again and not forget about it for too long lest I retreat to denial and minimizing myself. Lest I cave to Roi's sorrowful shuffling around the house.

WHICH, I did. Sort of. I talked to him and then we watched a movie together. I was about to beat myself up over the whole thing when it occurred to me that it takes quite a bit of painful effort to remain completely blocked against someone you work and live with. I didn't cave, I just didn't feel like keeping my shoulder up against the door. I needed a rest from that. 

He offered to go to a therapist with me. I didn't respond. It's too late. 

I spent several hours gathering together all the scattered information and journal entries I've kept over the last 4 and a half years. Emails, forums, written journals (scattered throughout 4-5 notebooks), and computer documents. It's a lot of stuff, and revisiting some of it was heart-shreddingly painful. No wonder our brains minimize stuff, forget, deny, etc. I was reliving several traumas over again and I had to walk away from it many times, catch my breath, scream into a pillow, meditate, take a walk -- anything to keep my molecules from flying apart as they seemed to be threatening. 

And I've only just begun. I've only just located and gathered, but now I have to put it all into one document with dates to use as a reference for writing. 

I am in a terrible state of confusion about what I mean to do with this writing. All I know is that the drive for it is out of my control at the moment.


  1. Hey-

    It is hard, rereading're right, it was a re-traumatization. Our brains are very good at protecting us. Can we blame them?

    I have a friend who has a significant other who senses when she is about to leave and then he throws out the therapy as a last ditch effort to get her to stay, or a wedding ring, or whatever will get her to stay put. Whatever will buy more time. Jermaine never did that. We just cycled, always cycling.

    Keep up your strength.

  2. Roi always throws me a bone, but it is rarely so dramatic as therapy, and only once did he "talk" about a ring which, predictably, never did show up.

  3. Hey honey-honey....I tried to post here when you first wrote this and blogspot ate my comment, which I hope doesn't happen this time. I wanted to say that in the writing, yes, it is where the pain of letting go of our (my) denial begins...but it is also the place where the real healing begins. Healing that starts with debriding the wound, and which hurts like a motherfucker. Healing that starts with me having to really open my eyes to the fact that I live with an acting-out addict whose recovery is patchy at best and on the one hand, none of my business, but on the other hand, making me physically ill.

    I believe with all my heart that, as the Al-Anon preamble says, "we discover...that it is possible for us to find contentment, and even happiness, whether the alcoholic is still drinking or not." (Substitute other verbs as needed!) You know Al-Anon saved my ass, so of course I think that. But I just talked with my sponsor last night, and we agreed that, despite all the grieving and tedious restructuring of this entire year of my life, I am physically and emotionally healthier than when I was living with someone who lied and used and tried to shift the blame onto me for noticing it and calling it out. I'm not saying I couldn't have kept living with him. I was working hell out of my program and I would have stayed. But there's another Al-Anon saying, "God does for us what we can't do for ourselves," and as I was too in love with him to leave him, not matter how he gaslighted me or blew up at me in rage for "catching" him, it took him leaving me for me to start to get better.

    This has gotten preachy and longwinded when all I really meant to say was: I love reading your writing. I love *that* you are writing. Please keep writing, and I will keep reading. The writing will lead you to the next step. I know you don't know what the next step is yet, but that's okay. Just do the next right thing. Just write the next honest post. <3 <3 <3

  4. RJ - thank you for your kind words. As for the "we discover...that it is possible for us to find contentment, and even happiness, whether the alcoholic is still drinking or not"...not sure I believe this. Unless what's unspoken is that finding that contentment/happiness requires leaving. :P

    I don't know. I just know that the whole unveiling and looking at the big ugly is what I seem to need right now and it feels right.