The theme for this week is confession and its purgative qualities.
This past weekend, my step group finally finished our fifth step together. It was one of the most powerful experiences I've had with this whole adventure in recovery. Hearing everyone's stories, seeing how much everyone has grown, and coming to know this wonderful group of women more fully was as much a fulfilling part of the experience as spilling my own guts.
The process really is magic. Figuring out what my issues are and how they've affected my life and kept me from growing in the ways I want to grow...kept me from finding real fulfillment...that's something I've sought my whole life, and working the steps is bringing me closer. Finding the stumbling blocks is the first part of getting them out of my way.
I know the way we're working the steps is unusual, doing it in a group, but it's been really powerful for me, and especially now that we're getting to know each other more. While I know that the one-on-one work with a sponsor can give you a different kind of insight, getting to know these women better and fostering each other through the process has been this wonderful gift. We wouldn't have been likely to get to know each other without being in this group together, but I'm so, so glad we've had the chance to go through the steps together.
When they were setting up the step study group, it just happened to work out that the only folks who attended and stuck with it were women in relationships with addicts. It's worked out beautifully to make it seem like we're all supposed to be there, together, figuring this stuff out with each other. It makes me want to get all weepy, like a girl or something.
So, who am I to deny the power of a good confession? I've already seen the way getting my stuff out helped me, right?
After he got home from the clinic this morning, he told me he'd stolen my check card one time and taken $40. I'd never noticed. I felt a small flame of fury that I've been tending to keep in check flare up, briefly, but then it was ok. Or it wasn't ok...that behavior is unacceptable, and it has happened again and again, and it has changed our relationship inexorably; however, I understand that he was sick. He stole from me because he was sick. It was a nasty side effect of his sickness, and he's sorry. Talking about it helps him.
We talked for a long time (at ass-thirty this morning...an unfortunate side effect of his MMT clinic's hours) about his guilt for some of the things that he did, the things that he put us both through, the work that it's going to take to rebuild it. He's so hopeful, so proud of himself for making good decisions, working on himself and on becoming a better person every day.
I'm proud of him, too. I'm also terrified at how easily it could all fall apart.