A Small Peace.

At the last meeting I went to, I spoke about my struggle with resentment and my suspicions that I was clinging to anger because I am afraid of sadness. A friend advised me to pray and spoke about her own experiences praying for and receiving relief.

So guess what? I tried it. It worked.

Imagine that! I can ask for help, and receive it! I don't have to do everything on my own! I asked for help processing my anger and sadness about our present situation, and I woke up the next day with a profound feeling of peace. We have had a lovely weekend. I am still afraid, and there is still a lot of big stuff coming that promises a lot of hurting...but I had a weekend of peace with my husband. That was a small miracle.

It amazes me sometimes how quickly I can forget everything I know. I go to meetings. I work my steps. I call folks in the program when I'm struggling. I do all the stuff I'm supposed to do, and yet when things get messy, it's like I've never heard of a higher power. It's like I never learned about detachment, never read about choosing my own attitudes and emotions.

I am also recognizing that I struggle with the spiritual side of the steps...the spiritual side of me. I am having a hard time asking for my higher power to help me because I'm not sure who my higher power is. I've been working on finding out who it is, and I've had some realizations about what I think about this God...I am struggling with reconciling my emerging understanding of God as being the universal, eternal element of myself, that quiet place that I can turn to within myself when the world gets too loud, too complicated...with the idea of an external being that I can speak to directly and ask for help.

And maybe I'm making a mistake by trying to understand. My mind has stood in the way of my spiritual side for a long time, so maybe I should keep my mind out of it...just listen for the quiet when the inward-manifestation of God is helpful and turn outward for help when I'm not able to find the quiet in me. I honestly don't know, but I know that asking for help in a few urgent words worked to bring me some peace in a difficult time.

I am afraid that I might be facing the hardest part yet. It's been a lot of uphill in this adventure with my husband's addiction, and I keep thinking that the ground will get more level just around the bend. What is coming up is potentially the steepest part yet, and I'm terrified for both of us. I am sorry to be cryptic, my friends. I would probably be really annoyed if someone whose blog I read suddenly had a big secret. As soon as the time is right, I'll spill the whole story...and I swear it's not just a machination to get more readers with a Dickens-like chapter ending.

OK. Time to try to go to bed. Goodnight, folks!

Art by Atul Sharma

My Raw, Read Heart.

I cross my heart and hope to die.

It's one of those days when all I want is to go home and hide under the covers. Sometimes, it feels like we've been in survival mode for far too long.

Wait...we've been in survival mode for far too long.

Panic is becoming my baseline emotion. It's not safe, anywhere. There's no one to trust, and I feel like I have to hide everything, everywhere I go, from everyone. I'd like to go away, or get rescued and taken away, but I can't.

I've got bills.

And sometimes, I really feel the world shrinking. I could take a pin from the inside of my mind and just barely pierce the surface, and all of this would dissappear. I want my mental real estate back. I need to do some evicting.

I went to check out a few martial arts schools. At one, they only spoke Spanish and only taught kids. At another, they aren't open for a week. I'll check it out next week. There's a third that I'm going to drop by either tonight or tomorrow. I need to bust someone's ass, or I'm afraid I'll get lost in these emotional badlands.