Battle

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I had strange dreams last night.  Dreams about being ushered out of magical bookstores before very nearly being crushed by the building.  Dreams about being late, left behind, and sitting in empty park offices waiting for something.

I went to bed with an unsettled mind and woke up with one.

I am powerless over others. 

This is what I repeated in my head as I drifted off to sleep last night.  And already this morning, I’m silently reminding myself of this first step of CoDA as I feel anxiety lapping at the edges.

There is a battle within–a battle between new and old.  New ways of living, and old ways of thinking.  This morning, I read in Jeanette Menter’s You’re Not Crazy–You’re Codependent, that even when a codependent has overcome much of what created the disorder, that they will, from time to time, manifest some of the symptoms again.

That accurately describes this past Friday, and then again last night. It’s like an itch that won’t go away, and I wish it would.

I am powerless over others. 

Last night was book club, a meeting I’ve been looking forward to for several weeks.  The book we read was awful, and I’ll admit that I tore it apart, joined by nearly everyone else. We laughed. We had good conversation. He even made it, which was a nice surprise as he had a City Council meeting to attend earlier in the evening.  There he was voted onto the Planning Committee, along with two others.  His political life has begun.  One of the two others also joined book club, with her husband, who made the announcement to the table that they–his wife and my boyfriend–were now officially “in.”  And she quickly added, ‘This is the first step to our being mayor!”

I am powerless over others.

I am feeling left out.

Let him do his thing.  Focus on your own. 

I am powerless over others. 

I called a CoDA friend on my way home last night and shared my feelings with her.  Can we go to CoDA every night, I asked, half-jokingly.  Is there a meeting to go to every night, she asked.  No, we’ll have to start our own.  She laughed.

What are the parts of the triangle, again?, she asked.

Martyr, Persecutor, and Caretaker, I said.

I think you’re in the Persecutor part.

I am powerless over others. 

When we got home, I laid in bed and read from the CoDA manual, then Googled flight schools, then checked my email.  Meanwhile, the machine of my inner mind whirred.

I just paid off my credit card.  I don’t have the money for flight school. 

I should spend any extra money I do have this week toward the study materials for my PHR certification so I can get a better job. 

I just got a raise at my current job.  I should be grateful. 

I need to do something for me.  Maybe an oil painting class is more prudent. 

I’m losing him to small town politics.  We’ll become strangers. 

No, I am important to him.  He will find time for me.

Left out.  Again.

I am powerless over others. 

I am powerless over others. 

I am powerless over others. 

Again, I see the need for a hobby when you’re overcoming addiction.  Because when these moments happen, you need an outlet.  To calm your mind, to restore balance in emotions, to easily slip into doing something that makes you feel whole and purpose-driven.

But I’m still finding my purpose.

I’m still finding my niche.

I’d like to, one day soon, recognize that not being involved, being invited, or brought in to the “cool kids club” is OK.  There is freedom in being left out.  It feels awful right now, but I’ll find my balance again.  I’ll find the quiet inner peace again.

The battle I feel with anxiety may rage now, but it will give way to stillness and growth.  To more “undependence.”

I will persist.

Probably.

 

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