Tired, Again

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Last night was my CoDA meeting.  The friend and coworker who came to my first wanted to come again.  So did another coworker.  And oh yeah, one more was going to tag along.

He was going to take his daughter around town to sell clothes again.

My colleagues and I stopped for custard before the meeting, with plans to do dinner afterward.

The meeting was very well-attended.  We filled the room.

A lot of people shared their successes with CoDA.  I was tempted to stay silent again this week.  My focus of the day was, after all, quiet, peaceful focus.  Achieving balance.

But I did share.  And I felt like I stumbled through it.  I felt I looked simplistic and childish.  I’ve only just started my official recovery and I’m already talking about how freeing it feels to not be riding the emotional roller coaster everyday.  I talked about hitting Step One without a workbook to guide me through any checklists.  I talked about improved relations at home.

And then, my cell phone started going off.  First, it was a buzz of a notification.  Then another.  Then the buzz of a phone call.  It was audible and embarrassing.  I grabbed my purse and left the room.

The phone call was my dad.  I let it go to voicemail.  The text was him.  While out with his daughter, he had bought three shirts and a hat.

“Wow! Fashion show tonight then?,” I asked.  No response.

And then, the woman–me!–who had moments before shared her successes in recovery felt alarmingly codependent again.  In the bathroom, I felt my anxiety increasing.  He was enjoying his evening out with his daughter.  Again.  She’s his favorite.  She can do no wrong.  I remembered him telling our priest how my kids wore new name-brand clothes every time we saw them and wanted for nothing, whereas his kids were struggling.

And less than a year later, his girls, in particular, are name-brand fanatics.  And seem to always want more.  More clothes, more money, more ventures out.  And he acquiesces.  When he tells me no, he tells them yes.

Wait.  Stop.  Let it go.  I can only control myself.

By the time the CoDA meeting was over, I was ready to go home.  But we planned to get dinner.  We stopped, we ate.  And then on the way home, we ran into a police blockade at the freeway entrance that prompted a turnaround and I ended up on the wrong side of the road, with oncoming traffic.

My friend kept saying, “Get over! Get over!” And I couldn’t until the median ended.  We did get into the right lane, without incident, but my colleague in the backseat was prompted to joke how she didn’t want to die at that moment.

I think my friend perceived my being upset and started a conversation about the mistakes she’s made driving.  I just wanted to drop them off and get home.

And I did.  And when I got home, he was sitting on our bed watching TV, wearing one of his new shirts, and drinking whiskey.  After shopping, he’d spent a good part of the evening talking to one of our house guests who is heavily into the stock market and predicted a depression on the horizon.


Then he showed me his new shirts.  All nice.  Mostly flannel.  The hat was a brand he really liked.  He tried on each one for me and they looked good.

Two things crossed my mind: 1) my letter to my future husband that talked about how he likes to wear flannel on the weekends; and 2) the gut reaction of jealousy when he said that his daughter helped him pick these things out.

After the ‘fashion show’ I got ready for bed.

He asked how my meeting went.

I told him it was ok.

He asked if I shared.

I said I did but wish I hadn’t.

Then I laid down and read.

This morning, I’m feeling just as out of sorts.  I catch myself asking more questions about his intentions for tonight and the weekend.  I tried to turn the questions into “I” statements:

I’m planning to come straight home. 

I’m looking forward to a relaxing weekend at home. 

I’m so irritable right now.  I can tell that he perceives something is wrong, but I can’t even identify what it is.

I feel stupid and simplistic and fat today.  I feel like I’m not important.  I feel like I’m failing at life and money.  I’m jealous of his can-do-no wrong daughter.  And I feel shame for feeling this way.

Jealousy is a relationship killer, he’s told me.  Jealousy is a red flag for him, he says.  And really, I don’t know why I’m jealous.  I’m not sure I am.  I really struggle to pinpoint exactly what I am feeling.

I just know I don’t feel good.

I wish I could sleep in more.  As it is, I’m still in bed–far past when I should be up and showering. My morning is a little unusual–I’m running a special errand for work, first thing, and out of town.  If I roll out of my driveway at 8:00 a.m., I’m good.  I don’t have to be in the office until 10:00 a.m., and travel time is still paid time.

But truthfully, I want to pull the covers over my head and stay here all day.

And again, I’m not sure why.

I don’t want to speak to anyone.

I don’t want to answer the phone.

I don’t want to have to pander, entertain, or otherwise cajole anyone.

And again, I’m not sure why.

I feel like crying.

And I’m not sure why.

Something or someone crossed the line of what’s “OK” to me.  Something flipped the codependent switch. Something trigged intense anxiety and frustration and sadness.

And I’m not sure what.

And again, I’m not sure why.


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