Vicarious Rising

The Devil I Know

Cruising along in my marriage waiting for inspiration or enlightenment to strike has been moderately difficult for me most days, but the last few -- for reasons I have yet to comprehend -- they are less bearable. It makes sense to sit tight and not make any major changes until more dust settles and I am certain of the future I want for myself. But I've gotta say, sometimes my nerves want to do that knee jerk reaction and play destructo without a thought to consequence.

My husband, to put it bluntly, is annoying the shit out of me. Granted, I am feeling sick with some sort of sinus thing, but normally when I am sick I am kind of benign. As much as I'd like to pass off my persnickediness off on the wopper of a headache I am carrying, I think the nails on a chalkboard feeling my husband is giving me is altogether its own problem.

I've been running a fever and sleeping on and off for the past couple days, spending part of the time napping in my favorite chair. But that was only part of my excuse for staying asleep in my favorite chair past bedtime. And when I finally decided to  make the trek up to bed at 3 a.m., I laid there for an hour, feeling angsty that my husband was laying there, snoring, taking up too much space and generally smelling bad.

Today, his usual "what's for dinner, where are we going for dinner, when-are-you-going-to-feed-me-woman" questioning is particularly grating. And when I didn't have a fully realized answer because I am sick and don't feel especially hungry, he got all surly with me. So, I got more sullen. His voice irritates me. Gee, I wonder if there is an underlying resentment eating away at me that has nothing to do with dinner vittles? Ya think?

Oh, dear. Today is not a good day in coupledom.

Dignity

My mother's birthday was a few days ago. I didn't send a gift, but I did email her. I have a little guilt for not doing more, but not so much. I couldn't think of anything that didn't feel contrived, but my note was genuine. I don't see the point in doing something for the sake of appearances.

My anger at my mother has dissipated so significantly I am thoroughly amazed. In a thousand years, I never thought I would transform from the little girl sitting terrified on her pristine white canopied bed to the woman I have become today. Those agonizing years in my twenties, when the realities of my family situation came crashing in, have finally become a more integrated part of who I am. I don't know that I would call it acceptance. To do that would, to me, be saying that how I was raised and treated was acceptable and I doubt I will ever concede to that. I suspect a part of me will always be outraged that the innocent I was had to go through that childhood. I do not think I can ever achieve the sentiment that my parents did the best they could.

However, I can and have gotten past it with my mother. I might even call it forgiveness. I look at her now with the eyes I did as a girl, wanting her mother to be happy. But I no longer feel the weight of the responsibility for fixing her. This makes all the difference. And I do not blame her any longer for placing that weight on me. I have grown up. I know who can and cannot bestow that burden.

What this means is that I can treat my mother with kindness. I like that. I like the thought that she and I have a chance to maybe get to know one another on different terms. It may not be all that the daughter in me wanted, but it is something not so bad at all.

Emotional Tourniquet

I've been thinking about how much better I've felt since I've been able to better handle my relationships with my sister, mother and sister-in-law these past several months, how their psychological whirling is going on mutually exclusive of me these days. It certainly makes me feel more in control of myself. But it does come with a measure of sadness because there is a much stronger boundary between us now. It's one that is long overdue, but at the same time, it effectively creates a distance between us as well.

I have a friendship I've had to implement this method with as well. Anytime I allowed myself to get too emotionally involved with the relationship, it would lead to me becoming agitated. For my own sanity, I've had to detach myself from the friendship to a degree, make myself care less about his personal minutiae and remember it has nothing to do with me and my life. However that sentiment makes me feel. But holding up this reserve between us is often difficult because I miss the closeness we once had. Feeling like I have to protect myself from him feels unnatural. Or maybe not unnatural, just painful.

This is one of those situations I've had to accept what I can and cannot change. When it comes to cross purposes and my peace of mind is at stake, I've got to choose me because I cannot change his behaviors towards me I don't like. I have to keep him where it is safer for me. Sometimes I think I really ought to drop him altogether, but that is another rant for another day. I don't always do what's best for me.

But I worry about my need to shelve people who disrupt my serenity. I don't have so many people close to me that deciding to set people aside when I get emotionally strung out by them is a blasé thing to do. On the other hand, it is very clear to me why I need to establish boundaries with certain individuals who I have failed to do so with in the past. I guess I am concerned about closing myself off to intimacy again. If I am perpetually cutting people away when they cross certain lines, will no one ever get close? I know at least in the case of my friend, I feel like I lost something rather important. Setting up limitations in this case feels just a step or two from the borderline of fear closing up shop rather than a triumph of recovery.

I'm pretty certain I want to know what it is like to be truly close to another human being, to experience that sort of trust. However, I haven't quite decided about having these emotions yet. But I'm no coward. I'll stick it out and see where they take me.

Rosaphilia

It's not often when something that is good for you is simultaneously a pleasure. I am continuing to marvel that this stretch of my journey has been an exercise in good trudgery rather than painful toil. I don't expect it to last forever. But, damn, if I am not wallowing in the best of piggish wallow.

I do have some less than ideal moments, however, and they pop up at the oddest times. Last night I was at the women's AA meeting that I really enjoy, and I found myself feeling unreasonably defensive when one of the women began to express her disbelief that anyone would have no urges to drink if they were an alcoholic. This was after I had spoken and said I was lucky enough to not have cravings, but I knew that I needed to stay away from that first drink because then all bets were off. They other ladies joined in with the first woman, rolling their eyes at the inherent dishonesty at any alcoholic who claimed to not have cravings. I found myself chiming in that I meant that I had no urges, but I did indeed have thoughts about drinking. It just didn't feel like a real need. Then I sat there pissed at myself for feeling compelled to explain myself at all. WTF?

I immediately shut my trap and thought to myself that this is one of those "group think" things that annoys me so much about AA. It is not that I think you have to sign up for it to belong, but it's like you do feel ostrasized if you don't tow that line to some degree. It's best if you shut up rather than state otherwise. I have a good friend in NJ (who I haven't heard from in awhile... I ought to check in on him) who once blasphemed the Big Book by implying that Bill W. was just another human being not a God inspired saint, and someone actually threw said Big Book at him. My buddy is made of stern stuff, but really! How firm can you be in your beliefs if you have to resort to physical demonstration to make your point? Obviously, most AAers are not this extreme -- most are openminded and inclusive -- but sometimes I do feel like my individuality gets squashed a bit in my disbelief that one size of alcoholism fits all.

But aside from being somewhat disturbed by my slide into people-pleasing, I've still been glad to be able to practice living in the moment, being able to stop and not only smell the roses, but prune them a little and appreciate their blooms.

I've had separate instances this past week involving my sister and sister-in-law that in the past would have sent me into several weeks of anxiety that I have been able to put into a "que sera sera" box. I find that remarkable. I am not baffled about how to handle those two situations today. I hope I can keep that up because I sure have been tied up in knots by their antics and really like how I feel today.

As for the rest, I'm just taking it as it comes. When the roses stop blooming, I guess I can figure out what else to admire. I could just put in some analogy about the thorns on the rose bushes here, but I am already mired in cliches. I've got some major issues going on in my home life that I am just sitting in a "wait and see" mode. It is a new way of dealing for me, searching for answers to be revealed without actually doing anything. Meditative slackerhood. I hope when all the petals fall off I don't just get stuck with dead wood or just a big thorny mess.

Recognition, Lust and the Pursuit of BeLonging

"Just being" is a terrific way to spend my psychic space, but it doesn't make for interesting blog writing. Although that's not entirely true. If I had progressed a bit more with releasing my inhibitions and shared some of the delightful imaginings from my mind, I'd likely get a landslide of blog hits heretofore unseen. It rather amazes me the search words that increase traffic. If I wanted to just blatantly hawk myself to peeping eyes, it would be so sadly easy. I cannot really fathom why anyone would want to be famous. I really do not get it. There's naked, and then there's naked. Part of why I feel comfortable sharing what I do here is that I don't think there are a thousand looky-loos here for a vicarious wack off or to tear me to pieces. You'd only bother reading my tedious blather if you are interested in recovery, therefore I can bare a fair portion of my soul. So long as I choose my tag words with care, I can be the real me without too much fear. Kind of ideal for an introvert like me.

Still, I have my secrets.

I have been having some rather odd dreams regarding AA meetings, where I am not feeling as if I quite fit in with what is going on in the rooms. I can look at that as a literal interpretation of how I am feeling of my place in the rooms, or I can search deeper in myself and question what it is that is troubling me. When I have a recurring dream, something's up. I know I am not feeling the need to sit in the rooms each day, nor do I feel the rush of relief and peace slip over me when I enter. I think it is more because I am not in a constant state of agitation like I used to be. I don't have to be talked down from insanity. However, I don't think completely cutting myself out of AA is what I ought to do either.

I'm at a point of adjustment, I think, where I am settling into my skin, figuring out what I want. I think I will just continue to sit. It's funny, the process of finally becoming my right size and shape. Like a newly built house on its foundation, expanding and contracting with the weather, sometimes making a loud crack as it fits itself better on its base. So long as what it is built on is strong, everything's going to be alright.

Daily Rut

Tomorrow is an exciting day for me. Nine episodes of Burn Notice back-to-back. A whole gosh-darn marathon. Not that I haven't Tivo'd all of them already, but still.

A few of you have asked about my writing, which I haven't mentioned much here of late. Well, I am indeed writing, but not anything worth publishing or anything formal. Sort of fits and spurts of stuff as it comes to me. My life the past summer has been largely disorganized and I have given myself permission to not feel too much pressure to make shareable output. So long as I am skipping along and enjoying myself, I am okay. Plus, I have sex on my brain, people! A little distracted!

My main goal, as I am swimming through uncertainty, is just being. This simple goal is something of a mammoth for this little girl. Just cutting off a self-recrimination at the pass is a big undertaking. Learning to do life on life's terms is something that I'd like to be able to do once in awhile, and the past couple months, I've hit a bit of a stride on it. So, I'm going with it while I can. I don't doubt that I will soon be beating the shit out of myself again with aplomb. But while I am feeling moderately able to be at peace with not knowing where life will take me, I am going to try to - if not enjoy it - not fight it either.

I do, however, have plans to sign up for another writing class, just to keep some sort of accountability going. My days are busy, and it would be easy to forget about following my dream if I don't carve out time for it. I won't let my own needs slip by the wayside, and being a writer is one of those needs. It's one that I am still insecure enough about, though, that discomfort arises when I think about doing it in a capacity that involves an audience. Maybe that's why I haven't been sharing so much about my writing here.

Something for me to think about. I wonder if I haven't maybe taken a few steps back in that regard. Or if maybe it's just the summer got away from me. Maybe I should chastise myself for not being all I could be. Now that is familiar territory.

All those deep thoughts can wait. I've got a date with Mike Westen tomorrow. Too bad my son's home from school and I have to pretend only mild interest. He thinks  television spy dude is pretty cool himself, but I somehow think he'd be horrified to know his mother was lusting after the guy. Don't want to mess up my kid by making him realize his mother thinks about anything so icky as sex. One fuck up in this family at a time, thank you very much.

Contagious Intimacy

I've got a bit of a crush on Michael Westen, the jaded recently ousted spy who is the star of the new USA show Burn Notice. He seems as good a target as any for my underused fantasy life. If I have to cast someone as my wayward lover, may as well be be a hero with a wicked smile who rocks a tank top. Damn, where has Jeffrey Donovan (who plays Westen) been my whole life?

I digress...

I have to admit, I've been in what I would deem a good state of mind for the past several months. All the introspection not withstanding, I would say I do not feel especially broken. This is a new sensation for me. Most of my life I have been accustomed to a perpetual sense of wrongness about myself, that I was always seeking a direction to go, but my compass was bent. I think I was maybe putting too many North Poles in the way of my magnetic field, or something to that effect. Right now, I am using my own gut as a guide, leaning on myself and my higher power. When I look too much at others to determine how I should be living, I end up getting defensive and soul-sick. It's a little like trying to utilize an instruction manual for a Blackberry to operate an iPod.

This overall tranquil feeling is certainly a relief, but I also worry that it is some sort of laziness setting in. In fact, I am sure that there is a component of "don't rock the boat" involved. I am not being productive enough, and that leads to guilt, guilt interferes with my overall serenity and then this tranquility is not quite real. So, I know I have to dig deeper and figure out the right mix of vigor and rest.

One thing I have noticed that is a probable red flag is that my idea of tranquility also means less interaction with other people. But one of the biggest keys to my recovery has been connectivity with other people. That has been the primary benefit of AA for me, in my opinion. Sitting in a room full of people who are, by and large, interested in my well-being rather than my downfall, has been very healing for me. I've felt safe for the first time in my life.

I'm a big time introvert, and spending great gobs of time with people tends to drain my energy. It is not that I dislike it, it is that it psychically takes a lot out of me. I think this has a lot to do with my sensitivity and the underlying desire to make everything alright for anyone feeling any distress. I can take social situations in small spurts, and I am slowly learning to deal with them in a new way so that I can spend more time with people. I need to continue to push myself into social situations that are not too stressful for my own sake. But lately I've just been enjoying the quiet.

Part of the problem is that when I spend larger amounts of time with others, I start watching cues from them about how I think I should be living. Like my therapist says, if I am not careful I could "should all over myself." I start feeling guilty because I start seeing the way everyone else lives and feels and acts as "normal" compared to myself. Which is not the point. What I should be doing is connecting, not proving to myself that I am a dipshit.

Add that to the fact that I am clearly looking for an intimate connection to another human being. I believe it would be hugely dangerous to cut myself off from the general population, yet undergo some sort of soul mate search. Even if said soul mate were my husband, it seems to me, whatever my sexual and emotional issues are surrounding me right now, becoming a self-contained island of any sort isn't the way to go. Understanding myself can only go so far; I need sounding boards. I keep having to remind myself, I cannot do it alone. I can ask for help. I have support now. I should use it.

Yet it is a bit of a paradox that it feels so difficult. I am urgently seeking intimacy on a number of planes, and some of it is easily within reach in the form of friendships I've formed in sobriety, including those here online as well as those in and out of AA rooms. Deeper interpersonal intimacy will be much more difficult. For something my poor little being yearns so piteously for, I have done a damn fine job of denying myself for the past 30 odd years or so.

Gads, another babbling post. See, this is why I need to get feedback from other people. I talk to myself far too much. See where it gets me? Me, the Hitachi and episodes of Burn Notice can only do so much. It doesn't lead to Nirvana, and I am beginning to like myself well enough that I want the whole enchilada. Self love has gotta be better spiritually and physically when you're sharing it with the right someone special, right? Didn't someone say to me I can fuck my way to spirituality? I'll order one of those with a side of guacamole.

'Course, I'll take Michael Westen in a pinch. Can't imagine he'd be too wrong. He claims something about being a tactile expert, I do believe. Man, does that sound like something I need.

Desperately Seeking My Inner Vixen

My horoscope for today seems a propos of my current dilemma:

It's an unusual day for you as you are stressed with issues that need resolution, yet solutions seem out of reach. The problem is that you don't know where you are going now and your uncertainty tempts you to withdraw. Still, your creative visions are amped up. Don't be afraid to slip into a daydream while imagining the possibilities of your future. [Rick Levine]

My dear blog friend, Postpaleo, had similar advice for me, to use my writing skills to explore my sexual fantasies. This is an intriguing idea. It also terrifies and embarrasses me. I wouldn't even know how to start. Or what words to use or.... then again, I do like a challenge. Perhaps if I look at it in this way, I could try. And if I don't get it right the first time, I can think of all the fun in the trying?

When I was working on my novel (the one that sorely needs to be redone, but I have been too chicken to look at since I have stopped drinking), I had a sex scene in it. I drank quite a bit while getting the nerve to write this passage. Getting myself into the mood wasn't too difficult. Reading steamy material doesn't embarrass me nor does watching it. Although I can't say I've done much of it with company. But observing and involving myself are two different animals. To put it succinctly, my sex scene pretty much stinks. It reads like the fumblings of a middle school boy venturing into his first bra. Except I'm not sure either the boy or the girl is having any fun amid all the awkwardness. Compared to the rest of the psychological level of the book, you'd think my kid took a stab at writing that section of the novel. It would almost serve the story better just to skip from the kiss to them laying in bed after the fact. It was that bad.

One good thing about looking back at this process is that quite obviously alcohol did me no favors in loosening up my libidinous creativity. I do not believe the magical answer to my sexual dysfunction lies in intoxication by liquor. This is a freedom that has to do with something altogether different. Let down my guard to engage rather than numb down my senses. As Postpaleo and others have intimated, trust is absolutely crucial. I think trust is going to have to come of not only my partner, but even more importantly, from within myself.

Maybe that is where I should start, with continuing to learn to trust myself. If only I knew what that meant.

Vaguely Disturbed

It's sort of funny that in my inability to discuss sex, I can't appropriately explain myself either. The most I've been able to talk about my issues with sex is here on the blog, and even here I, at best, stumble around ineptly.

I guess I would like to make some sort of attempt at clearing things up. First off, definitely heterosexual female here. Married to a really wonderful man, but our sex life is and has been for years........... sigh. Barely existent. I don't want to talk about it. I am not going to go into details or point fingers or anything. I understand a lot how it got here in a lot of ways, and a lot of my choosing a safe mate has to do with bad sexual experiences in my past. I didn't choose for it to be chaste, it was just acceptable that more wasn't required of me. That's all I am going to say. Hope that makes some sense.

But now that makes me feel like half a person, or more accurately, half a woman. I don't feel quite fulfilled. Or maybe it's just in my head. Maybe it is some part of recovery. I'm not sure. I know I feel like I have an itch that needs scratching and it also feels romantically, spiritually, linked as well. I feel like I have been holding myself back in in a sensual, emotional regard and I don't know what to do about it. I have had dialogues with my spouse on several occasions about this. I don't think we are on the same planet. He is comfortable with how things are. I do agree that we live together quite nicely.

I'm just muddling through. In the end, I could end up in just some sort of acceptance mode. I don't know. Some days I'm just zen about everything. Other days, none of it feels okay; I want more.

It's a funny part of recovery - I never thought I deserved anything, and now I am wondering for the first time about needing something more for myself. But when am I asking for more than I deserve?

Getting Back on the Horse... Finding a Horse?

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things again. My son is back in school. I started back with my therapist. I'm officially back in my townhouse. I've not quite managed to unpack everything from storage from the grand disappearing act during August, but I'm not pressuring myself to do much along those lines. I'm not feeling especially motivated to nest here at the moment anyway.

After all my summertime reflection, I found myself not having much to say to my therapist. While I have much work to do, I am finding myself very reluctant to broach talking about my sex life with my much esteemed doctor. I trust him and have been working with him for about eight years, but somehow talking with my 70+ year-old doc about my newly rampant heterosexual desires kind of skeeves me. I mean, I can tell him I am having them, but getting into any talk beyond that is just... man, I am so repressed I can't deal with doing girl talk in this regard, nevermind with someone my grandfather's age. I can joke along with the best of people, but any sort of serious dirty talk? My god, forget it. I don't believe there is a shade of red to describe my blush.

This leaves me at something of a loss about how to approach exploring my problems, inhibitions and curiosities regarding sex. Can't find out about it from books, my therapist makes me uncomfortable, I'm married and can't exactly go picking up strange men to test out my feminine wiles. Ah, conundrum. Well, I am still waiting for inspiration to fall from the sky. If everything in my marriage were working the way it ought, I suppose this wouldn't be so much of an issue. The fact that I chose someone to marry where this has become an issue, is an issue. Agh. My head hurts sometimes.

I think, for now, my best option is to keep doing what I am doing. Or rather, just being.

Higher Power? Hullo? Speak up, will ya?

Oh well, there are worse maladies in the world. And I don't have to drink over any of it. Good god, would that ever have the potential to make it worse. Although, I gotta say, there is a part of me that wouldn't mind adding a little bit of whore to my resume. If only for a night.