Control

Group last night was, I suppose … progressive? productive?  actually, let’s go with just “not a waste of time”.

we talked about our barriers to Recovery.  some people said friends or situations or family, some said reluctant to find and trust a sponsor, some (including myself) said a hesitant of reaching out to others when in need.  but my biggest barrier, the one I really discussed, was a lack of Control.

those who know me understand my need for Control.  not over you or a given situation, mind you.  fuck all that; I couldn’t care less.  but me, and my life.  I never went to rehab before because I thought I could do it on my own.  I value willpower, personal control, and independence.  but when it comes to my Addictions, I apparently have none of that.

but what I talked about yesterday was how I have no control, no say-so, in my life anymore.

I was an A student, member of a trillion clubs, volunteered for everything, the mediator in my family, the pillar for my friends, and the leader of all my groups.  I was always what others needed me to be.  not because I needed to please them or for them to like me; that’s no more of an issue for me than the average bloke.  rather, it’s because I always thought it was my duty.  I mean, that’s how I was raised.

Mum:  “how did X did on her test?”
moi:  “she got a C.”
Mum:  “a C?  why didn’t you help her study?”
because suddenly my friends’ grades are my responsibility.

I still remember one of the things that made me cut the most back in high school during The Incident: Mother expressed how I didn’t do a sufficient job during the Spring Fling fundraiser for a club of which I was the president.  I didn’t do a good enough job; I was insufficient; my efforts were unacceptable.

so having my own life was never really a thing I considered, never something I felt.  sure, I chose the clubs I was in.  but I always felt I was obligated to not only be in them, but to also lead them.

eventually, I become an adult.  often times I was working two jobs, helping different people along the way with whatever, and still dabbling as the family mediator, even though I was no longer living there.  over the years, I’ve let a lot of those responsibilities go, sure — and with great effort and some resistance.  but still, I’m the leader; I’m responsible.

and then comes alcohol.  around 8pm some nights, it’s my time.  I can drink.  I can forget my responsibilities, my duties, my obligations.  I can just be me.  if I’m sad, I can cry.  if I’m pissed, I can be angry.  I don’t have to front for anyone, because no one (except recently Brian) was even around during these periods.

drinking was mine.  I didn’t have to share it with anyone if I didn’t want to.

and now?  now I have nothing.  I spend my entire day at work five of seven days, and I have to go to Group for the whole evening.  once I finally get home, I barely have time to even workout for an hour before it’s bedtime.  and now my rehab center is telling me I have to go to at least two additional outside meetings on top of the five with them.  fucking when??  I have two goddamn jobs.  I go to church with my dad on Sundays.  I’m already going to an AA meeting Saturday night.  I have shit I have to do over the weekend — grade essays, create lesson plans, work on my car, cook, go grocery shopping, exercise, etc.  I’ve cancelled all my plans for the next two months, because I know I won’t have any fucking time to really see anyone.

I have no Control in my life.

———

except my eating.  my EDNOS has come back strong.  on my NerdFitness forum, I pretended to be … erm, disgruntled?…. with the fact that yesterday I ate less than 900kcal.  but honestly, I’m proud; I’m pleased; I did great.  you can take my alcohol, you can take my cutting, you can take my fucking evenings and weekend and money and license — but I’ll be damned if you’re going to take away my eating habits.

it’s not about being skinny (though that would be nice).  it’s about Control.  it’s about knowing that somewhere in these 28 years, my life is still at least somewhat mine.  it’s about knowing I can still exert self-control and willpower.  it’s about knowing that I’m strong and capable and independent.

———

I’m somewhat angry at those who want me to dry up.  because they’re taking simply another thing away from me, in a life where I already feel like I have so little to claim as my own.

I’d rather not even be alive.  yet still I wake every morning.  for them.  the least they could do is let me have my alcohol, let me have my skin and blades, let me have my own eating habits.

but no.  I have a feeling soon even my ED will be attacked.  and then I’ll have nothing.

and when I have nothing, I may Depart…..

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