This Co-dependent’s Addiction: Self-Sabotage

Tags

addiction, co-dependency, fear, grounding, inner child, process, recovery, routine, self, trust

The point of setting up my blog was to utilize a world-wide public platform to share and explore my own journey out of depression. I have not kept up with my original vision of weekly or biweekly postings. A large part of not posting as I had envisioned is due to the ACOA trait of perfection. A million things had to be “just so”. My studio had to be clean. It had to be a day off work. I had to have brilliance just rolling down my fingers. My mind had “to be in the right place”. Blah, blah, blah….

Good bye, Perfection. You are in my way. (At least to blog).

Another stopping point was that I had to always have something stellar to share. My obnoxious inner critics dissect everything I think, say, and feel seven ways from Sunday and quite often what I want to blog about doesn’t quite measure up to their standards.

Shut the hell up inner critics! The whole point of sharing a journey is sharing the ups, downs, struggles, misses, gaps, and that failure happens. The point of journaling is to develop the habit of letting things that bother us out so that we don’t keep them bottled up. Journaling records our successes as well as our failures. It is a place to figure ourselves out, make peace with our needs, and to laugh at the things that used to bother us now that we have overcome them. Most of the time my daily pencil written entries on paper is acceptable. Adding to the “wall” above my bed is okay. A “blog” is a “web log” so why can’t I use it the same way? (Yes, I know it is public and not retrievable.) If what I write is not good, useful, enough, or simply the same song just a different voice; then the reader can ignore it. Their choice does not have to infuse me with doubt.

Time. Like most people “I don’t have time”. This one is pure BS. I have time I just suck at allocating it well. This factor may be the most important one for me in terms of recovery. One thing I know for sure about myself, is that if I don’t make time for myself, if I don’t take at least an hour daily to check myself, I will get into trouble. It can be fifteen minutes in the morning, fifteen minutes during the day, and a half hour at night, it just has to me intentional time. On my non-work days there is no reason to not sit and write a blog entry. If I post too much and readers tire of my journey, then at least I have developed a habit.

Very often I don’t keep up on something because my inner struggles keep me frozen. Since my crash I have had a nearly daily struggle with functioning period. PTSD has been an almost constant companion. Most people that I have spoken with about my crazy fear keeping me under the covers for days at a time, know exactly what I am talking about. I visualize myself melting into my bed, the sheets, the mattress. I liquify and disappear. Last year I could not stay away from my bed. I would get up, go to the bathroom, run back to bed. Then I would get a drink, feed my pets, back to bed. Get up, heat food, back to bed. I did get up and go to work. That was my life LAST YEAR. This year I do not do that as much. Infact, from June until now I have almost been a normal person at least with regards to my bed. But I am still frozen in many other ways and the pull of the “hide in bed” thing has just become a daily struggle again. As I write this the feelings are welling inside me to go hide. Nope. Moving on.

For me, co-dependency is the only life I know. For my entire life, my life has only been in relation to someone else’s life. My place was what I was given by them. My existence, my space, my own “stuff”, my own needs, wants, and dreams had to be eked out of someone else’s and with their approval. At the very core of it, I didn’t really exist. What I mean is, capital letter “I”. You see, it is our parents who create us (OK, God really but go with me here), our mothers who bring us into this world, and generally several people contribute to keeping us alive. Somewhere along the line someone or someones also give us a Self with a capital letter “S”. When reared well, a small child develops their own “will” and asserts that will regularly (no, I don’t want to put my shoes on, I want to go over there!). That same will and sense of self demands comforting when “scared to death”. Many, many times, my heard and unheard screams were shushed, ignored, or silenced through abuse. My Self and my Will was obliterated because someone else’s was more important.

Over time I have excavated either actual or just “body” memories of being crazy frightened and no comfort was given to me. I was always convinced I would perish. The coyotes would eat me. The shadow/noise was a man who would take me and kill me. I have wandered off again, I will not be found, make it home, or I will get hurt and die. It is literally so cold in here, hypothermia might take me in my sleep. And that’s just the crap I consciously remember. The subconscious memories are the real danger for me as I am discovering. For me, I think my subconscious memories are the memories of all the little kids in me that got stuck and didn’t finish developing. Whatever their needs were at the time, whatever job they needed to do at the time, still need to be met and finished. If I think I have lost myself in psycho-babble, if I think “I’ve got this”, or if I entertain my Cinderella complex; I only have to look at my behaviors.

My inner children are running the show. I have been keenly aware of them for a few years. However, I didn’t realize that even some of what I thought was positive behavior, was still actually either continuing to act out or simply not listening to whatever is adult in me. Motive is important. My newest questions are: “How will this actually play out given what I actually do and end up thinking?” And “How can I keep the good while hold firm on the not so good?” Remember, this is about making decisions, any decisions with the idea that kids are currently running the show, thus fucking up the adult.

Here is my example and I promise to wind up most of this post in the example.

Given the death hold resistance to unfreezing (part of me is convinced death is eminent), the fact that I failed to get up and go to work one days last week (a sneaky part of me that I didn’t know about), and that I know for sure from positive experience, that daily exercise at a gym is vital to my well-being; I should just bite the bullet and join the gym down the street. Sounds great right? Here are a bunch of potentials for self-sabotage.

The point right now is to stop freezing up. I can accomplish not freezing in bed by flinging myself out the door and working out. I will feel better. I will ruminate less. I will have more energy. My mind will sharpen. I will sleep better, eat less, lose weight, and become more attractive.

Because I am who I am, and that is currently wildly plural; forces at work will still try to keep the status quo. It is likely that the end goal will evolve from not allowing my youngest inner child to freeze me: to that inner child attaining a parent.

Translation: go to the gym to get physically healthy knowing that emotional, psychological, and spiritual health follow; NOT to get “hot” and remarried so you “have someone”.

See how motive matters? See how things can turn out depending on the maturity level at play? Maintaining the status quo of co-dependency is what my body knows. Even a positive behavior can be used to sabotage my emerging Adult Self. Played out this way, I get all wrapped up in some guy (only have a self in relation to another),
and let myself (I found it!), two years of hard work (down-play the last two years-you are perfect), and all the brilliant recovery blogs yet to come (you aren’t that special, you can’t write that well, this won’t go anywhere) go to be safe. Let. Go. To. Be. Safe.
Pretty sure that was then entire message of my childhood and I am wired to repeat it.

Another scenario this one. I join the gyms keeping the above in mind. When I go I don’t wear any make-up, I speak to no one, I don’t cash in on my emerging hotness, I do unfreeze thus slowly begin to have confidence in taking on my bigger problems. In getting the membership I have cashed out my tiny savings because, “I know this is important and I will just have to find a way”. Okay, this is my eldest inner child’s thinking. She knows what she needs and she is right, but she doesn’t do it in a safe manner. I have a long history of putting myself in danger to meet my needs. Once in a dangerous, precarious mind set, my inner workings keep me there. I will feel better about myself from the work outs. I will have more energy. I will feel more positive. I will CONTINUE to OVERSPEND (I did it to get the gym membership and I feel FANTASTIC). I will also over estimate my abilities like finding another job, budgeting that money appropriately, and keeping myself in line to live independently (for the third time). My you-don’t-deserve-a-self will emerge in debtedness, homelessness, and three generations of shame resulting in suicide, needing to be rescued by someone around me, or ending up back with the family that fucked me up in the first place. The need to meet my co-dependency addiction has been met!

Ok, no gym membership. No Cinderella act. No making lemonade from lemons- don’t go near situations where you may even find lemons if avoidable. Forget it. Stay home. Stay chubby. Stay self-conscious and wardrobeless because your clothes are size 4-8 and you currently are a size 12. This is better anyway. You don’t have to worry about a bright, busy, engaging future with big goals to accomplish. Just stay home with your books, your art supplies, your craft ideas, your pets. Just make yourself happy. Do only the minimal things to maintain your current life. Take care of yourself, play nice with others, don’t reach for much or be noticed. Find a routine, a safe, maybe sad routine and just stick with it. You don’t really need a gym membership.

Closer, but still self-sabotaging. This is clearly black/white thinking. All the other stuff that can happen is bad, so, no! This would be my inner six-year old. Not worrying about my future because I am convinced I won’t have a future, it is up to someone else anyway, or I have a long time before I have to deal with it, are other ways I have found myself maintaining my addiction to co-dependency. In this case can find other single women who are afraid of men. Throw the risk of pairing up again right out the window. Get busy with activities that bring other people into my life but keep it shallow. Dive head long into people pleasing but keep it small, simple, and cheap. I have noticed that if a person is pleasing enough, they don’t have to be attractive, smart, or terribly wealthy. People-pleasing is how co-dependents get around meeting their full potential. My inner six-year old running the show keeps me in the victim role. She really was a victim. My Adult Self gets sucked into this line of thinking because I have learned giving up often works.

This post has become way more than I thought when I first sat down to type. I am sure some inner workings kept me occupied with this lengthy examination of myself to not deal with something a grown-up would have dealt with today. I have to hope, trust, have faith that this is the most important thing up to this time of day. Since my complete crash a year ago January, and even since the diagnosis of breast cancer in 2009; I have been determined to beat suicidal ideation and live a healthy, happy, and even joyous life. After four years of reading, journaling, creating a “wall” of work, therapy, ACOA meetings, and a hospitalization, (minus time in school- major self-sabotage); my mind is there. There are times I know for sure I have successfully rewired something somewhere. This is great. Yeah me!

But missing work last week was a game changer. Somebody inside me scared Adult. Somebody was bold enough to threaten everybody’s roof. Upon examining what happened and finding no conscious reason; it likely was subconscious. I still feel betrayed. A bone chilling sense of unease that something I didn’t even know existed in me, will try to take me down from within. Or maybe it’s the sneakiness that has me rattled. Whatever is trapped inside me is freaked out by Adult making progress.

Inner Children, we need to talk.

bc

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Fear of Success: The Inner Child Temper Tantrum

My months over due, imperfect, untitled, recent post was really just an introduction to the ugly underbelly of fighting the addiction of Co-dependency. The last few months, as I just posted I have made very good progress at disentangling myself from a life that was not working. I have let go of my friends and family. I moved away from everyone. The last person who bit me left deep wounds. The last classes I sat through let me know I was not the kind of student they wanted in their program. Ouch. I have not heard from anyone in TWO YEARS (next month). I don’t count a one minute “Hi, honey” call from one, or two “just checking in” texts from another, or yet a third texted “just thought of you”. I need more than one, or three, or four hurried or texted words. IN TWO YEARS.

Now, lest readers get defensive, these are all “friends” of ten or so years. These are other women with whom I have been through quite a bit of adult-life-changing-stuff with. At least they had those changes. Me, not as much. But there is a lot of history in terms of evenings talking over a bon fires, dinners, days with kids, nights out, short trips, club/church membership, holidays spent, birthdays, sick days. Womens lives as we lead them. My friends have done a lot for me. They have done a ton. They have sheltered me, they have opened their homes to me, they have fed me, stored my stuff, moved me, and taken care of me after surgeries. They are good people. As I move through recovery though, I have noticed that it was all, and I do mean ALL just really tight co-dependency. And most of it was mine.

I have not heard from them because the relationships were based on need. And again, mostly mine. They never were “deep and real” (wink JS). As much as I wish I still had them to count as friends, the reality is that none of them has been to see me, in my home, in my new life (yes there were invites except for one of them). The reality is I need to be gracious and move on from those relationships.

My family is almost the exact same thing. We are a need and duty based bunch. We got together when my grandmother was alive and pretended to be something we weren’t. After she died the get-togethers got less urgent, less frequent, and less attended. I don’t go at all anymore. Last Christmas my kid went without me. During my breast cancer treatment was when I noticed that without grandma, we were feathers in the wind. I saw two family members the day of surgery, for Christmas (as couple weeks later), and then not again for nine months. One family member I saw every other week for a ride to and from chemo. I think there was a grocery shopping trip in there as well. The friend I stayed with I haven’t heard from in over four years. The last time my mom was in my state might have been for my grandmother’s funeral. Maybe another one in there right after. I quit meeting her needs, running to the hospital, and giving a crap four years ago (she was a no-show for the cancer) so I finally gave up. Actually, no, I Officially Gave Up after my “crash and psychiatric hospitalization a year ago January. I called her to come stay in my apartment while I was hospitalized. (My mom doesn’t have employment, not that she doesn’t do things). Um, no. So after much crying while supervised for my safety, I gave up. My mom cannot parent me, at any age. I get that I am technically a grown-up, but breast cancer, really?

All of the above is not meant to pick on other people. I have been needy since the birth canal and it has been a very, extremely, excruciatingly, maddening, everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) take-a-turn, drawn-out affair to get me to this point of somewhat grown-up. Hence the previous post! See how well I am doing!

Enter Angry Inner Child.

So, due to my probably-not-quite-the-birth-canal, but close, need for nurture, love, attunement, connection, attention, cerebral stimulation, bonding, communication, validation (need I go on?); I have to find it in other healthy ways. I need a place in this world. I need a sense of belonging. I need community. I enjoy being with others that share my interests and are interesting. I have something written more in detail about this event that I will post later, but for now I will just say that I went somewhere to find community, refresh some previous relationships, and get some deep shared meaning out of a hellua book we all supposedly read. But the thing is, we didn’t really discuss the book. It was a deep, thought provoking, possibly life changing kind of book, and there was almost nothing discussed. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Ok, I know I am deep, and tenacious, and serious to the nth degree; but these are not generally thoughtless, shallow, brief, unintelligent people but the “discussion” was exactly that. I was shocked, disappointed, a little mad, and unfulfilled. Really, really unfulfilled. As I pulled away to drive home late at night, the echos of all such searches bounced off the grey matter inside my skull. Of course I adjusted my expectations. Of course I understand that I assign way too much meaning to most things. Of course it was insane to drive two hours in rush hour for a book group. Driving along I came up with a posting about beverages.

The next day at work, I was still down about the night before. I mean a LIFE CHANGING BOOK. The day went well. Got some disturbing news from my kid, but got through it. Church Sunday was fabulous. Visiting hour afterward, not-so-much. I usually love visiting over coffee after the service. Nothing. No one interesting to talk to. No one spoke to me. I looked for my usual pals. Nope. Huh? I went home sad. I took a nap. Later I did my usual grocery shopping, cooking for the week, cleaning, prepared for my work week. Note, PREPARED FOR MY WORK WEEK. I knew my schedule, I knew my hours. PLANNED IT OUT. Went to bed.

Monday, up, work, all fine, ACOA afterward. Good. Talked a lot about Co-dependency. I was happy to be at ACOA. I would get “fulfilled”. We would go “deep”. I would “connect”. Over the years I have built up some pretty good tools to use when I need them. Over my bed literally hangs a great deal of my recovery work. It is my “wall”. When I have issues, I can refer to my wall. I use it to map out memories, feelings, thoughts, patterns. It reminds me of what I have worked on, figured out, and need to stay focused on. In the day hospital i learn to “breathe into my pain”. Just paying attention to the fact that I am not breathing helps, but so does noticing these huge shuddery things that come out of me sometimes. Paying attention to my body. I knew this, but didn’t give it enough appreciation; my body has stored up its pain. My BODY remembers. My body does it’s own thing….and I don’t always even know. During my share, I spoke of Peter Levine’s work that our body doesn’t know the difference between real or perceived danger. So, in essence, I still react now as an adult the same way I did when I was small. My wall, all my tools, are to help me “rewire” my freaked out brain. Old reactions. Current reality. Rewire. Tools. My share. All good. ACOA good. Home, sad.

A co-worker and I are reading a book and then going to the move. I was very down on Tuesday and did not have to work. I stayed in bed and read all day. My plan was to be very busy the next day getting my needs met, staying on budget, doing grown-up things.

When I first woke up on Wednesday, I was fine. Even sort of happy. I had resolved my lack of fulfillment problem from Friday. I had written about it and found growth. Even Sunday’s sadness turned out okay. I had maintained my Sunday take-care-of-yourself routine. I loved Mondays. Good work day, good meeting. Yesterday was a day of rest. Well earned. All good. Let’s get up and into the shower for a great day today! Ya, no.

I swear to the heaven’s I don’t get what is so hard about getting the hell out of bed and into the damn shower! For two solid years now I won’t do it. But, that’s another post. Any hoo, I finally manage to get out of my studio. I am determined to not be beaten by this “why bother, why get up, why do this day” bit that tortures me. I leave the studio just as I am; unwashed, unkempt, high school sweats, little make-up and all. The bank will close and I want to get back on track with my quarters. I cash my mom’s phone bill check after checking that I have funds to cover it. The cashier gives me the quarters and deposits the rest. Next, I sit in the grocery store parking lot transferring money from savings to checking for a few groceries. In have previously mentioned that I am learning to keep as much money as possible between checks. I am actually very nervous now if it is $300 or below. (HUGE WIN FOR ME). This paycheck I will be at $200. I am not comfortable with this, but proud as hell that I finally feel this way. This is a major rewiring accomplishment. The FEELING associated with SAVING. Yeah me! I decide on $36 dollars for spending until I get paid next week. In need $5 for the movie. Into the store I go with about a $15 budget. Out, mission accomplished. Next store, $7. Great.

As I get closer to the theater, I pull in to weigh out waiting for the co-worker or just going to the movie. Co-dependents don’t have relationships: they take hostages. Yes I am plagiarizing. Someone else came up with this one, and it’s true. Since I now have a clean slate on which to build good relationships, I don’t want to muck it up with old bad habits. I know this person also struggles and given that work together, I don’t want to cause discomfort. New for me: I have discovered OTHERS’ FEELINGS and that I can infact impact them. I can be as unhealthy as the next guy. I have previously pestered this person to do things and we have, but I have decided that all of my relationships need to be two way streets. I need the other person to seek me out also. My new rule is: it the other person does not approach me at least part of the time, then perhaps they are not interested and I should not attempt to make them my hostage. I will be okay. Searching myself, I decide I will be really mad if this movie leaves town and I did not get to see it. If this person doesn’t get around to calling me when they are ready (that is the agreement) I will be even more mad if I miss the movie. In my mind, it is better to go see the movie alone just to be sure to see it than to take the risk of another person letting me down and being hurt (and royally pissed). So I go to the movie.

While the previews play, I count my successes. Unfulfilled Friday taken care of. Check. Saturday freak out over kid’s news. Discussed with others parents. Check. Sunday Sadness. Recouped my routine. Check. Monday. Great. No check needed. Tuesday, day of rest. All good. Today. Seriously bumpy. Well, I DID get out of bed finally. I got quarters. Very good. I got eggs, margarine, coconut milk and creamer. Food. Good for the week. Check. Have movie ticket money. Check. HAVE MONEY IN THE BANK TO NOT TOUCH. Halle-friggin-lujah! Check,check,check. Did not risk something that would make you really mad. Giant check. Also did not pester co-worker, did not continue co-dependent behavior. CHECK! Movie begins, brain shuts off except for how it relates to the book.

Upon exiting the movie the trouble begins. Reality hits harder than the gust of cold night air. I am bummed. What the hell? Suddenly I am alone, lonely, and my life feels pathetic. Whoa! Wait. What just happened here? I drive home, bring in my groceries, get my food ready for the next day, look for my work stuff, and go to bed.

I wake up about noon and IMMEDIATELY KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG. NONONONONONO!!
I dash to the bathroom to pee and look at my schedule. FUCK! I was to work at 7 a.m.
I actually have to lay down again for a minute or two. Slowly, I realize my phone was still off and in my bag from the movie, not alarm set, and no bed alarm set to get up at 5 a.m. Upon retrieving my phone, there are three texts and four calls from my job. There are no words. There are times when a person wants to literally disappear. Evaporate. Leave with the clothes on your back and never be heard from again. This is one of them. And confused. God, I felt confused. I KNOW TO CHECK, DOUBLE CHECK, TRIPLE CHECK MY SCHEDULE. There was no conscious reason for this. One quick flip of the alarm clock. I am an adult, with a job, with rent, a car, pets, medical needs. How in the hell did I not go to work. After a few minutes of crying I called. The co-worker who answered was glad to hear from me, said to calm down and check in with management. Fair enough.

Words escape me on this one. Reason escapes me on this one. I spent the entire day going over my psyche as to why I would do this to myself. My eyes alighted on my Declaration of Self. This is a declaration I wrote for myself, giving me a self, and ways to protect myself. Some of it reads “intentional/unintentional harm by my own or others’ hand”. I unintentionally hurt myself by not checking my schedule when I was getting ready for bed. Another thing I have taught myself is not to ask “why” questions, but “how” questions. How did I do this? The answer was “because you were otherwise distracted”.

Two things. One, I was, despite what I told myself, caught up in the muck and the mire of the crap of recovery. I was tending to the little things, the hang-ups, the things I won’t just do, and missed the big picture ie my job! Two I somehow ignored my better-getting-better-and-more-frequent adult judgment. How did I do that. I have been so good, so successful, so contained, so into recovery, so not needy, so well behaved, so money conscious, so keeping up my studio, laundry, cooking……. I AM MAKING IT DAMN IT!

BINGO.

Oh, no, you don’t. You may not succeed. You can’t sustain it. You don’t have a future. It will only be taken away anyway. You may not leave us. Stop searching, there isn’t anything for you. You are too shattered. There are not enough pieces left. You broke, remember? There is no future for you. You can’t make it alone.

Inner Child, you little shit.

bc

Tags

adult children, budget, co-dependency, depression, fear of success, inner child, shame, spending

Sitting down at my laptop to post after a very long time of not posting, and actually a little break from writing, feels weird. I ashamed and disappointed in myself. I am going on “well you have to start somewhere”, so here I go again.
The break was mostly because I was less ruminative and more out there actually living my life. I started to ride my bike to work, I became more active at church, I even went to a few social events. I was going to write about Bad Days, Benders and Balancing out. And I did balance out quite a bit. I am, like a lot of dysfunctional people, a perfectionist in certain ways. I am also very much all or nothing, on or off, hot or cold, there or gone. You see, I got no middle. Chaotic, absent, addicted, injured parents don’t raise well- balanced middle of the road children. They raise kids to be just as wacky as themselves. This is not a healthy way to live. I know this. During my time writing less, I spent a heck of a lot of time finding the middle in other areas of my life.
Time was spent training myself to adhere to a few simple rules on the premise that once you break the small ones (rules) then larger ones follow. I got this idea from Charmed. Phoebe burned at a modern day stake for killing someone in the future, but the real problem started with dog doo-doo.
I have serious self-care deficits. One of my problems, now solved by a “small rule” is I don’t allow myself to spend quarters. Nope. No quarters go out, only in. Why? Because I will run myself out of my roles of quarters and then not be able to do my laundry. No laundry, no clean uniforms for my j o b . The roles come from my bank which is not easy to get to (because I also don’t have a very good sense of time) and I try my best to get at least one role each paycheck, if not two. However, routine is difficult for me resulting in ending up without quarters. Hence a stash. This week I did indeed use my stash and then got my ass to the bank. Small rule upheld, no laundry emergencies, routine reestablished, one win for self-esteem.
Another small rule. When shopping, acquire a few singles for tips and the ACOA basket. Also, never ever spend all the money in your change purse. If you can’t afford a decent tip in cash, no restaurant meals. This has really reigned in my spending. Go home and cook for yourself. Twelve step groups are free and self-supporting. They are THE best group therapy for me personally. Show gratitude, feed the basket. Resisting the coffee, pop, and treat stops because you may-not-empty-your-change-purse is good economy. Good for the bank account, good for the waistline, good for emotional addictions. I have to stop and ask myself why I want that treat. What am I soothing? Can I do it in another way? I do plan a Starbucks run about two Mondays a month, just to keep from getting bitter.
On payday I fill my gas tank. I have a horrible history of running out of gas. This is rude, inconvenient, dangerous and entirely avoidable. The last time I did this, my car also required a jump start because the battery needs to be replaced. I live in a major city. This is a dangerous rule to break.
Some things are not rules, but “best weekly practices” for the care of me. I absolutely MUST socialise two to three times a week. I live alone. I am an only child. I am not dating anyone. My child is grown and lives in another state. I am not close to anyone in my family. My best friend also lives in another state. I am prime pickings for loneliness, isolation, depression and suicide. This is an ongoing battle for me. I must go to therapy, 12-step, and church weekly. My church has things going on 2-3 times a week so this is easy. Therapy and 12-step is work schedule dependent but it usually works out.
My ACOS meetings have been positively amazing. My growth has been in leaps. What I do is whatever happened in the week, I process it though the issues of recovery and share what I learned. The good and the sucky. And there has been a lot of sucky lately. The other members have been unbelievably recovery oriented as well, and I think as a group we are fabulous at promoting healing.
Life is humming along. My car still needs some work, but it stops when I apply the breaks. It didn’t for a long time, so this is nice (huge one for the self-esteem- $800 in cash). I have a stock up of Viva paper towel and Charmin toilet paper. I have back-up shampoo/conditioner, dawn dish soap, toothpaste, deodorant, furniture polish (my studio is very dusty), and am up 50lbs of rabbit pellets. I have never, in my life, had stock-ups.This is huge for me. Since July I have NOT lived paycheck to paycheck. I have consistently had $300-1000 going into the next paycheck. This time it will be about $200. I have almost never not lived paycheck to paycheck. Back in May, I had 24 cents until I got paid. While working on my last degree (yet to finish), I never even made it close to the next paycheck before going onto credit cards.
Next month is my two year anniversary in my studio. This anniversary also marks the beginning of the end of my decline. The end of a life I could no longer lead. By the end of January I could no longer go to work or school. In November I gave up financially. On this two year anniversary, I will celebrate one year of “truth in spending”. One year of mostly making budget. I will have had 4 months of meeting my needs, paying my household bills complete and on time (maybe slight slippage, but very slight), giving to others, some play and books, and money saved.
This is not to say that I don’t still have problems or giant financial issues out there; just that strides have been made in the right, sane, safe, recovery oriented direction. This was largely possible due to an abundance of hours available to work at my job. Without the extra hours this would not have happened. At some point fairly soon I will need an additional job. Even as I type this, I know how far I have yet to go. I know how one expense can and will erase this nice four month success story. The laptop calls me back to share my journey out of depression because this success comes with a very high price.
She is my inner child. She is my addiction to Co-dependency. She is the rouster of the fear of success. She is the Big Bad Wolf raging to blow this house down. She is clothed in shame, with a basket full of “not good enoughs”, “who do you think your ares”, and “but I-I-I needs”. She is the reminder of kindly garbed people who bit me. She is the one who was first bitten. She will never forget. She refuses to let go.

AND SHE IS PISSED OFF

bc