in which I cuss a lot about the wonders of recovery

I gently blow out the candles in the window that Lexi so carefully placed. She loves to clean and prettify, gets annoyed at my clutter and Roi’s slobbishness. I pile, he drops, she picks up and organizes. She complains, but she likes this rhythm. It gives her a sense of control I think, and perhaps a sense of superiority. I’ll have to keep an eye on that last part. It is too easy to slip into condependency from that position.

But it’s the money too. We went for so long with so little. Now she has control over the flow and she always wants more. There’s always something new to buy. Something she needs, something on sale. So she is happy to go beyond her chores to earn more. If she didn’t have such a reasonably good head on her shoulders I’d be concerned that her years of deprivation are launching a shopping addiction.

Not that I would know what the fuck to do if I became sure she was headed down that path. I’m beginnning to believe I suck at being a mother, and pretty much at life in general.

This doesn’t stop me from acting like I know what the hell I’m doing, and justifying every action as a reaction.  But I’m becoming aware that my life has become unmanageable, yessir’. I’ve said before that I’ve hit bottom, and I still believe I was at a bottom, if not the bottom at the end of 2008. And when you say to yourself that you’ve hit bottom, it goes without saying that you get it your shit isn’t together and the whole big mess is large and definitely unmanageable.

The problem is, I felt that my life was unmanageable because I was at a bottom. The bottom of a rather large hole that someone shoved me into, and then just for good measure dumped their shit in on top of me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still believe that. Kyd and Roi together? It was just too much. But now the picture is coming a little more into focus. I was indeed at the bottom of a hole I had been shoved into, but I had also been walking that edge for some time, and I was too proud and ashamed to ask for help to pull away from that edge.

Now I’ve climbed out of the pit, but I’m still standing at the edge with wild eyes, just waiting for someone to dare and try to shove me back in there. Practically taunting them to try. And if I have it my way, I’ll stand guard over this pit for the rest of my life.

Because it makes a lot more sense to spend my life guarding myself against this edge rather than walking away from it, obviously.

That’s not all. I’ve been so focused on coming out of that shit-hole smelling like a freshly bathed newborn, that I failed to see there is definitely shit on me, and it’s my own.  Suddenly I get the concept of “keeping my own side of the street clean”. I always took that to mean that I had to ignore what was happening on the other side of the street, you know, collude with the addict, when it really means I’ve got to stop ignoring what’s happening on my side.

And because shit analogies are fun and I feel like cussing some more; when I’m not watching where I’m going on my side of the street, and I’m not keeping it clean, I’m bound to get shit on my shoes, and it’s my own. Again. My shit.

So it’s time I start cleaning my shit up because I’m running out of time in this life, and I want to start living it while I’ve stil got breath in me.

Suffice it to say, Roi has thrown these AA-isms at me more than once before and I’ve bristled. How dare he? With the state of things as they are with Roi, I can’t bear for him to be right about anything. I can’t let one sliver of trust, love, or compassion through the walls of this fortress. I won’t be able to leave if I let any piece of him in here.

Do you know how difficult it is to hate someone completely? Much more difficult than one would imagine. So right now, it’s not really my side of the street I need to keep clean, it’s the fortress floors. I’ll start there.

Today I’m going to do my stupid work that I hate, fold the stupid laundry, walk into the too-small kitchen at 5ish and cook some god-damned dinner, clean up after myself, put in one of the 20 exercise DVDs I’ve bought and actually, you know, exercise instead of just watching with a tub of popcorn, maybe read a little, and then I’m going to get into my bed, close my tired eyes, and mother-fucking sleep at a reasonable hour for once.

But that’s JUST FOR TODAY. Tomorrow can suck it.