12 steps for non-drug addicts.

I've been reading a book. It's strange, because it's really connected to my life... and my future. In a lot of ways.

The most profoud thing to which I've been connecting, is the detailed accounts of the subject's journey through addiction. It's been hitting me very personally. I stopped when I realized this, and asked myself, "why?" The question really is, "am I an addict?" With what did I connect?

I have a reactional habit that's borne out of strongly uncomfortable feelings. It's complex. Actually, I have a lot of them. And they're destructive. To me, and to my family. AND my business relationships. I also have an unhealthy amount of guilt surfacing from years of the damage caused by my habit that makes the whole cycle repeat itself. The difference between me and a drug addict right now is that I appear healthy. My body is strong. I can hold intelligent conversations.

What are my uncomfortable feelings? I told myself, in my head today, while I was at the gym, "I'm worthless." It came to me out of the blue while I watched a man curl 27.5 lbs on each arm. It's not an absurd amount, and I thought, at first, that eventually I could do that. I'm already curling 20 on each arm. Then like a sudden sucker punch out of pitch blackness, I had a knee-jerk insult whallop me in the face. I'm worthless. I'm not enough yet. I'm not there. I have no value.

It's ABSURD. In the next moment I thought of a hundred different arguments to the contrary, not to mention a flurry of memories of people who love me, and whom I love deeply. But the inital, deep, organic thought still burned under there. I could probably write encyclopaedic-length volumes on where that feeling comes from and where it's going. But to be more relevant I needed to ask myself next, "so what am I doing about this?"

This is where my habit kicks in. I feel like it's uglier than anything I've felt guilty about before, including sexuality. Although sexuality likely ties into this, somehow. In fact, I know it does, but that's another entry altogether. So, simply, my habit is that I overbook myself. I've been getting told this with increasing regularity, and now it's starting to haunt me. I want to be so much to people that I promise the moon. And I'll drive there and back to get it. The more money, ablity and access I'm given (because I talk a good game), the more I take. But not for myself... it's given directly to everyone else, in time and gas and headaches and manhours and coffees and dinner and whatever else. I thought it was bad scheduling, but it's something so much deeper.

I have these terrible feelings of not being held in high esteem. I also personally invest myself in others' problems, their personal lives. I want to re-create them, heal them, fix them, see their eyes light up and their world become comfortable and rich. I feel full when I see other people eat. I feel guilty for so many unfinished assignments, bad marks, betrayed people, disappointed people, for... lying. For such a long time, now. I've lied about so much. I've made it a habit. An art. I want to erase what I've writen because now it's getting painful. I feel like crying because I feel like I can never be consistent. I over book myself because I lie about what I can handle, about what I've already got on my plate, about what I've already accomplished (or not). I lie because I'm ignorant of my own limits. Ilie because I want to please, and I'm terrified of being honest and killing someone's perception of me.

I've met someone who makes this all so wrong. I have to stop. I can't fuck around. I've been more honest with myself in the last month than I ever have in my life. I have real gravity now. I feel like I need to make amends with so many people. I feel like i have to change right NOW. I feel like I lack the courage and strength to stay away from things that will damage me. I feel like pleasure is too strong a pull to resist. I want to keep living the way I'm living, but I know it'l only deepen the schism inside me, the separation from what's real and what's a pretty, gorgeous sham.

I also need to understand what's mine. I realized lately that I get turned on when I rebel and do things that are secret, restrained, covered, hidden... I get turned on by a hand down my pants, but when the pants come off, sometimes so does the arousal. I love it when there's movement under the blankets, but when the fresh air hits me, I dry up. I seem to need to carve out space for myself and not be accountable. I feel a huge, pressing weight on me most days, it's followed me around forever. I used to cry because I'd never keep my grandmother alive. I didn't know enough about her ways and her talents to mimic them exactly and keep her alive. I cried about this when I was 8. Stayed up late, weeping and panicking in bed. Now, I feel totally, utterly inadequate. I slouch. I don't do the dishes. I let the laundry fall behind. I wear shockingly inappropirate clothing. I'm sexually liberal. I still don't get assignments done. I hide. I want to run. I lose track of time. I forget to take out the garbage. I don't do my taxes on time. My bills are poorly tended to because I'm not consistent with saving OR with collecting money for my efforts. I want to have a career, but I don't think I can handle it. I've broken prmises, I've lied because I was scared, I've lied because I've indulged, because I've been weak, because I've rebelled.

All this sounds so human and forgiveable. Why do I feel so burdened by it? Why do I feel like i'm an addict? Because I keep doing it. Because it feels as though this controls me, and even though I WANT to be better, I want to be mor ein control, I want to be something else, I have this habit that keeps fucking me over. And I'm done with it.

I need to change. It's so hard. I have so much shame. Shame. It's all about shame. I blossom under approval because it's the lack, th eopposite, of shame. That's the magic word I've been trying to uncover, folks. Shame. Embarrassment. Lots and lots of shame. There are plenty of times I feel fearless and free, but when the tired, vulnerable stuff comes up, it's got to do with loads of shame. He's got big muscles? I'm fat. Shame. You want me to be loyal? I'm not. Shame. They call me honest. I've got secrets. Shame. I procrastinate. Shame. I can't cook like yia yia. Shame. About COOKING! The house isn't clean. Shame. I haven't been forthcoming about my lack of interest. IN you, in it, in him, in her, in whatever. So I've let it go too far, too long. Shame. I can't make you any money. I can't help you. I can barely straighten myself out. Thanks for having patience with me. Thanks for believing in me. It helps lift some of this shame. This timidness, this fear, this self consciousness.

I need to face all these people I've disappointed, after I've forgiven myself, and ask for theirs. I need a plan. I need a partner. I need someone to stick by me even if it hurts, and I know I have that. I guess I need the reassurance. I have more than one partner in this life. Why do I say I need one? Perhaps because I'm afraid they'll give up in their hurt, and leave me. Fear of abandonment. Haha. Actually, it's closer to fear of hurting them. Because then I feel that crushing shame again.

I'm starting to heal. But I have to keep going with it. I tend to like to tie things up in pretty bown and call it a done deal. Happy ending. Ta da! I've ended with a prayer and the future looks sunny. Not going to do that this time. The ball needs to keep rolling.