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HALT alert: NO MONSTERS IN THIS HOUSE
It's 1:02 AM as I begin to type. Jon and I fell asleep four hours ago watching His Girl Friday on Jon's laptop (we've learned to work around the whole not-having-TV thing).Mimi came into our room half an hour ago and I got up to change her pull-up. The room tilted left, then tilted right, and right now it's swirling around and it's way warmer in here than it should be and the floor feels about a mile away from my head. I can't sleep.
I feel drunk; I swallowed some cold medicine before bed on an empty stomach. Just some over-the-counter, no-alcohol, generic brand cold medicine.That has to be it. I don't like this feeling at all and yet I used to seek out this sensation on purpose. Add that to the long list of things that make no sense to my alcoholic brain. Ugh.
But if I dig deeper I have to admit there is more at play. Jon and I started this week with a fight about moving back east -- I want to; he doesn't; we've been fighting about this for 10 years. He's been working nonstop. I haven't been to a meeting or called or gotten a sponsor. I goofed up the time of a playdate for Mimi. I have been reading Caroline Knapp's Drinking: A Love Story, which has led to way too much time in my head. I haven't prayed. On Monday night I stayed up to make apple bread for my Tuesday faculty meeting, and then we overslept and it was raining and Jon couldn't take Mimi to school and I ended up staying home. I bought Valentine's Day cards for my relatives and forgot to send them on time. On Thursday, I went to work and left my laptop sitting on the kitchen floor.
Put simply: I've let recovery slip. I haven't paid attention and I haven't used the tools and I haven't dialed the phone. I have not been grateful. I've set expectations for myself and failed to meet them, charging back to feeling hugely inadequate, which is miserable but familiar territory. It's been a week like the weeks I used to live all the time. I have felt the dark pull of despair, always waiting just right there.
NO.MONSTERS.IN.THIS.HOUSE.
This is a chant Mimi likes to do before bed, when we've turned down the lights and the stick-on constellations Jon carefully applied to her ceiling are glowing softly. We hold hands, a trinity, and warn off interlopers in our deepest voices. She giggles, but I know she is serious about the monsters. And I know how to do this now, how to right myself and fend off the demons. I know how to have faith that it will get better if I keep doing the next right thing. I know it will be all right if I get up tomorrow and remember to be gentle with myself and others, set reasonable goals for the day, go to a meeting, call my sister, fix dinner and read stories and take a nap and return the email that has been waiting a week to be acknowledged. These things will be done, and the doing will feel good, will be good. And if I just keep doing that, the monsters will stay out of my house.
I feel drunk; I swallowed some cold medicine before bed on an empty stomach. Just some over-the-counter, no-alcohol, generic brand cold medicine.That has to be it. I don't like this feeling at all and yet I used to seek out this sensation on purpose. Add that to the long list of things that make no sense to my alcoholic brain. Ugh.
But if I dig deeper I have to admit there is more at play. Jon and I started this week with a fight about moving back east -- I want to; he doesn't; we've been fighting about this for 10 years. He's been working nonstop. I haven't been to a meeting or called or gotten a sponsor. I goofed up the time of a playdate for Mimi. I have been reading Caroline Knapp's Drinking: A Love Story, which has led to way too much time in my head. I haven't prayed. On Monday night I stayed up to make apple bread for my Tuesday faculty meeting, and then we overslept and it was raining and Jon couldn't take Mimi to school and I ended up staying home. I bought Valentine's Day cards for my relatives and forgot to send them on time. On Thursday, I went to work and left my laptop sitting on the kitchen floor.
Put simply: I've let recovery slip. I haven't paid attention and I haven't used the tools and I haven't dialed the phone. I have not been grateful. I've set expectations for myself and failed to meet them, charging back to feeling hugely inadequate, which is miserable but familiar territory. It's been a week like the weeks I used to live all the time. I have felt the dark pull of despair, always waiting just right there.
NO.MONSTERS.IN.THIS.HOUSE.
This is a chant Mimi likes to do before bed, when we've turned down the lights and the stick-on constellations Jon carefully applied to her ceiling are glowing softly. We hold hands, a trinity, and warn off interlopers in our deepest voices. She giggles, but I know she is serious about the monsters. And I know how to do this now, how to right myself and fend off the demons. I know how to have faith that it will get better if I keep doing the next right thing. I know it will be all right if I get up tomorrow and remember to be gentle with myself and others, set reasonable goals for the day, go to a meeting, call my sister, fix dinner and read stories and take a nap and return the email that has been waiting a week to be acknowledged. These things will be done, and the doing will feel good, will be good. And if I just keep doing that, the monsters will stay out of my house.
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8 comments:
"miserable but familiar territory". I can relate to that. Boy, can I. This is beautifully written, and I LOVE the saying of No Monsters In This House. I'm going to use that one, too. Weeks like you have had are tough. It's amazing, though, to have that inner awareness, that recovery voice that tells you exactly what is going on, what you need to do. Writing about it is a huge part of diffusing the power of the disease, too. At least it is for me.
Keep on keeping on. I'm thinking of you.
-Ellie
First of all - we've been a laptop instead of tv family for quite a few months... and we love it.
I love your honesty. Thank you for that. Sending hugs (and you can call me anytime... I'll send you my phone via email if you want it)
I really relate to that feeling of needing to ward off the monsters. Sometimes I'll push for a while and not take care of myself and think "hey, I can do this" -- but I can't. I always start falling back into more and more crazy old patterns.
Thanks so much for dropping by and commenting on my blog recently.
Stopped by when I got an email from Custom Blog Designs about your new look (Diana also did my makeover!). Very nice. I'm now following because I like your style, and your honesty.
Susan
I love your honesty too.
When there are no monsters in the house does it follow that there are beings of good will there watching over you all?
Oh! Of course. I didn't make the conscious connection between the monsters and my higher power. Yes! We are well looked after. Thank you for reminding me.
I read Drinking, A Love Story 3 different times before I got sober. I think I need to pull it out again, now that I AM sober! Can I add your blog to my page?
Of course! Thank you!
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