Unable to articulate all that is on my mind, I have decided to share another magical and medicinal post from Momastery.com  I would like to pre-empt this by saying that this post, for me, relates to people with whom I have intimate and meaningful affiliations.   It is likely that I will continue to dabble in gossip about celebrities and other remote people.  If I have meaningful information or opinions, I will share them with the person whom they are relevant.  This is a tough habit and norm to breech.  It is a wildly unpopular way of being in the world. Even if the gossip is given under the guise of “concern.” Because if a concern is big enough to talk about, then it is big enough to be addressed directly to the concern-ee. And if a concern is not big enough to be addressed directly to the concern-ee, then it’s not big enough to talk about. I want to live in a world where women trust each other. Where people know where they stand with each other. Where women give each other the benefit of the doubt simply because they believe down deep that other people are doing the best they can. Where self control is valued. Where women don’t delight in evil. And so I am going to create that type of world for myself. Because we all create the world in which we live. That’s the secret. If you want the world to be different, then go ahead and make a different world for yourself. Gossip is tricky. Not gossiping is even trickier. Because here’s the thing. There is something inside me that loves gossip so incredibly much. When someone shares something with me about someone else . . . a juicy little morsel, it makes me feel so IN. It just makes me feel so special and accepted and like if she’s talking to ME about HER than she must like ME more than HER and it just feels cozy and like we are in this little circle of trust. But as my dear friend Adrianne says, (Earmuffs, Jesus) “That. Is Some Bullshit.” When someone shares a secret or complaint or judgment of another with me, all it proves it that she’ll do the same thing to me. It offers a false sense of security, this gossiping. No time for false things during this beautiful short life. We’re looking for the Truth. It’s going to be hard. This new Love Experiment is likely to put a damper on some friendships. It might make certain get-togethers a little less fun and I might be left out of some juicy conversations. I probably won’t be as funny or exciting. I might be a bit of a wet blanket. That’s okay. Because I want to be a woman who can be trusted. More than I want to be funny or envied or admired or IN, I want to be trusted. I want to be a safe place for friends to land. I want to be honorable. “I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter”   – Bob Goff

You struggle to keep your balance- to not jump- but you just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  You are walking a tight rope held by those you are bound to.  They plan to let go,  you know it in your gut, and you keep going.  What else to do?  People watch, helplessly, silently–some judging.  You put one foot in front of the other. Cuz-faith.  Faith that it will be what it is and you will be ok.  You have been down this rope before.  

My recovery is a wildly unpopular choice, extremely agitating to those who need to be feel in control, play God, the judge, the jury, the punisher, the rewarder.  I am also reminded daily that recovery is the ONLY way– and it divides me further and permanently from those feeling displeased(harmed) by it.    They are not yet ready and will literally do anything to get in the way of recovery life.  Annneeething!  I carry on with fervor, not ease, but fervor. Sometimes we have to sacrifice what we want now, which is war, to get what we ultimately want, which is peace.  And not everyone defines peace the same way.  For some people can only find peace in winning, which requires a war and a loser.  Well people do not make sick people well, but unwell people can make well people sick.  I seek wellness, illumination, peace.  Progress not perfection.  One Day at a time. There is always a right way to say what we need to say and a wrong way to say it. There is a way that will invite more light and reconciliation and a way that will invite more darkness and polarization. The latter is often the result of mental unwellness and cycles and dynamics of addiction plaguing a community or family system, usually through generations.  Break the cycle, I say!   And, sometimes doing what we really want to do, if it’s going to add more anger, isn’t the right thing to do. Even if it feels good at the time.  Recovery has offered me the tool of pausing and acting rather than reacting.  I am emotionally triggered in under a nano-second, this I cannot help.  Recovery taught me to pause long enough to decide what I can do to acknowledge the feeling and then to practice self care and self preservation without harming another.  In sick systems, there is no distinction between being displeasing or making a mistake AND being harmful.  Recovery teaches me that –it is not my job to please and it is not mean or a crime to displease or make mistakes.  I do not choose any systems that have reliance on people pleasing OR paying the price. a little bit soap box and ranty–oh well–

Looking back, I see that the only times my mother and sister had anything to do with me, were for emergencies and celebrations/scheduled gatherings.  I guess those times made them feel, maybe, benevolent, by showing up as rescuers, hosts, or gift givers.  But I think life, for me, is what happens in between the events. Relationships, as I experience them, are strengthened and clarified by day to day showing up and connecting, for no reason at all.   I stopped accepting gifts and help from anyone who can easily live without me.  That is not love.  It feels icky and confusing. I suspect that if they could honestly express their sentiments with words, they might say “Who the fuck do you think you are, going off script?”.  My marriage was similar.  Big efforts toward planned gatherings and crisis, little attention in between.  It died a natural death once it became clear that only sustained connection would lead to physical intimacy.  Again, off script.  Why am I not more grateful and indebted and willing to throw myself away, feigning closeness?  I will not accept any more opportunities to show gratitude in the from of submission.