Spilled Milk

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Today was a difficult day.  As I felt the temptation to have a dramatic codependent meltdown, I reached out to not one but TWO CoDA friends, including my sponsor-to-be.

It wasn’t just that things at work spiraled out of control, it was that when they did, I reached out to him–margaritas tonight?

Probably.

And then his day spiraled out of control.  And there went margarita night, and much of any conscious time together.

I checked his friends list.  About 8 more adds.  Almost all single.  Most younger than me.

Gah!

Because my boss and I have a close relationship, I vented: Why when you have a good woman at home would you friend every single, cute, blonde girl on Facebook?!

His response: He’ll grow out of it.

I was catastrophizing again.  I felt myself ramping up.

I asked my sponsor-to-be for distraction techniques.  Then she delved deeper.

When you’re triggered, you cant see through the trees, she wrote.

She reminded me that “fear is behind everything,” then asked: What is the fear? What are you saying to yourself?

I’m telling myself that he doesn’t miss me.  That he’s glad he’s away from me.  That he’ll probably stop at a breastaurant and flirt with the waitress who is 10 year younger than me.

After some back and forth, what it came down to was a question: In this moment, did I believe he was not trustworthy? Or did I believe he’s running late.

I believed he was running late.  And he was.

In the end, she was encouraging about my reaching out for help, for honestly confronting my fears.  When I left work, I drew a hot bath, sunk into it with a newly-downloaded Mathdoku app and soaked for nearly two hours.

At some point, he messaged that he was on his way home.  When I asked him what he’d like to do when he got home, he replied: go to bed.

Emotionally, I recoiled a bit.  Any hope of a resurrected date night was out.  And he seemingly wasn’t hungry or had already eaten, so I dried myself off, dressed, and went to bed.  Which is where I am now.

He’s since asked if he should stop to get something to eat.  He announced he could not afford margarita night–maybe pizza.  I told him pizza in bed sounded great.  And P.S. I’m already in bed.

So there’s that.

Part of me wants to say that that’s all there is to journal about.  But, the reality is that this codependent-infused day didn’t start when I walked into the office, or shortly thereafter.  It wasn’t caused by a trip to his friends list.  Or even a cancelled margarita night.

No, it started long before that. I’m wrestling with the feeling of not being good enough at a deeper level.  Or maybe a more pervasive level.  I don’t feel good enough at home when I see he’s added several more Facebook friends of a certain variety.  But I also don’t feel good enough at work.  There are a lot of balls in the air and I don’t feel good enough to keep them all aloft.  I’m convinced one or all will somehow fall.  And maybe some did today.  And do we need to mention the job search again?  Neither interviews nor offers seem to be beating down my door.

I cannot control everything.

I know this.

But it would be nice to feel that I can control something.

Fear is behind everything.

And I’m afraid of being everything undesirable.

 

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