Open...

“This program is based on honesty and right now, you aren’t being honest.” My sponsor gently reminded me a week ago.
“I know. Really the bottom line is, and I hate I’m saying this, I don’t want to stop.” I reply, unable to really look her in the eye.
“That thing in your head, telling you this is wrong… that’s your God voice talking to you.” she continues.
“I know.” I nod. “And I will. I promise. When I’m ready to let go.” That voice, since Rob died has gotten louder. It has steered me in some interesting directions, making me do good things randomly for people and for myself that I never thought possible.
I’ve been getting a physical release for a little while now from another person. I’ve “needed” him to numb the feelings of grief and I “need” the food to numb my feelings about using something (or in this case someone) to numb myself with. Vicious cycle this is…
I swore to myself I’d stop when it became too much. I just hoped that when that time came, I’d be strong enough and not completely blinded, to be able to stop. I’m trusting that “feeling” I get when I need to make a decision to tell me when. For now… I keep “using”.
It’s hard to describe what it’s like getting caught up in all this. I enjoy the high I get from feeling loved in a physical way. The whole world melts completely away. There is no work, no stress, no grief. It’s only warm skin beneath my fingers, a soft mouth on mine, and a heart that is beating softly in my ear. I can tell you it’s better than any cookie I’ve consumed, it’s euphoric, delicious… and fake.
Everything was fine. I was able to take it as it came and not think too much about it. A series of events quickly unfolded over the course of a week, starting with my sponsor’s comment about honesty and ending with me waking up one day with that feeling, thinking to myself, “I can’t do this anymore. End it now.”
I didn’t end it right away. I went back for one more high. Just one more time, to make sure and yeah, I got my verification when I felt horrible afterwards that I needed to end it immediately before any more damage could be done. Whatever void it was filling, the feeling was letting me know it was done and I needed to move before I got hurt even more.
I usually question these feelings, just to “make sure”, but no questions were needed. I promptly ended everything and waited for the explosion of feelings I’ve been stuffing into the depths of my head to come on out.
That didn’t take long at all. It’s like everything was waiting under the surface of the numbness to flood my head and knock me off balance again. Not that I was ever really balanced to begin with…
I’m tempted to use food to calm it all down. Really really tempted. So much in fact that I’ve kept in very close contact with my sponsor. I’ve had to change my emails to her and tell her what I will be eating that day instead of what I ate. I know if I go against what I tell her I’ll be disappointed in myself. I want to get better. I want to work this better and I’m trying really hard to understand that it’s work. Every. Single. Day.
It’s been a few days since all of this. I’m crying non stop again. The waves of grief are coming so hard and fast that I’m getting sucked in and carried out to some unknown place. I’m angry beyond belief with him, with myself with this whole situation. Mostly with myself though. I know good and well there is nothing I can do or use to fix this madness. I’m stuck sitting through it. The sooner I can accept that, the better. I’m just not quite there yet.
I spent some time today writing my co-worker. He’s off today. I don’t know why I feel this intense urge to write to him but I do. I’ve fought the urge for a week now. There is nothing I write that I feel I could ever just randomly bring up so I write to get it out to another person. Like Rob did when I wrote him about my food issue, my co-worker reads my letters, and puts them away, never really saying anything but understanding everything.
My letter tells him about my relationship with Rob, what he meant to me and the events that have followed his death. I don’t know why I feel compelled to relive all of this but I do. It’s centering me somehow. I cry forever and it takes an eternity to write but I don’t want to stop until I’ve said everything I’ve needed to say.
I feel so wide open in the scariest way ever. While I want to be a friend to my co-worker I’m scared I’ll make him my replacement to food, focusing on “fixing” him instead of my own recovery. My skin is crawling, I want to eat so badly. I’m almost tempted to go back to the sex because I’m not sure I can do this. I want everything to shut off.
I keep writing instead.
Work ends. I need to go to an OA meeting. I’d rather not but feel pulled in that direction. Once I’m there, as always, I’m happy I went. Ironically enough the topic of discussion is the “tools” we need to use to get through recovery. I of course, needed to be reminded of this. My favorites are meetings and writing. I loathe the phone but I’m trying to move beyond that and actually use it more. Slow process.
It feels so good to hear everyone’s stories and to know that we all struggle with the same things. I’m content when I leave but once I get home, my mind starts to wander. I can’t seem to nail down a project and stick to it. I was going to draw for a while until I started thinking about writing so here I am. I think I’ll go draw now…