Whore

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Last night, I dreamt I attended a work function with him.  We stood in a massive, empty warehouse.  The energy was electric as we milled about.

His Human Resources Manager was the only other woman in the crowd.  She stood out among the sea of men, her long black hair striking against her tall, narrow frame.

She began greeting everyone in attendance.  In her announcement, she listed off names of those present, concluding with, “and a whore.”

All eyes were on me.

I searched the crowd for my boyfriend’s face.  When my eyes found his, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

I was embarrassed, upset, and felt abandoned.

I turned to those next to me and added my own sarcastic post script: “Yeah, because his dick leapt into me of it’s own volition.”

And then I repeated that line to everyone who would listen.


 

I am to begin Step 4 work this week.

Step 4 involves a making a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of ourselves.  What it looks like is identifying the many people and things we fear, resent, and have caused harm to, and then analyzing why.

The goal is to begin identifying unhealthy patterns within our own behavior.

My sponsor has already identified resentments she’s expecting to see listed: my boyfriend, my ex-husband, and my coworker.

There will be more, but oh, my coworker.


 

If I linger in bed longer than I should this morning, it will be to avoid going to work. Which, for all intents and purposes, is a tragedy.  After all, I love my job.

But since starting my recovery journey, a distance has grown between my coworker and I.  Where we were once very close, I cannot put enough space between us now.

Her negativity is repulsive to me.  Her sarcasm caustic.  Her loudly shared belief in the superiority of her ideas maddening.

I resent her selfishness, her disregard for others, her lack of respect for those we work for, her proclivity toward complaining about everything, her reliance on weed, and I most resent her flippant attitude toward recovery.

In conversation with my sponsor, I shared my frustrations.  I wish I had never invited her to my first CoDA meeting.  I’m angry with her for disregarding the steps, for shaming my emotions during meetings, and assuming she knows best. I am angry that her negativity remains unchecked. 

I cannot control her.  I cannot force recovery upon her. 

I can only establish healthy boundaries between us.  

I want nothing to do with her. 

“I wonder if my disgust over her negativity is recognizing something in myself,” I told my sponsor.  “Her and I were once great friends, and to be that close, I know I had to have been that negative, too. I had to have repulsed others with my own behaviors.”


 

I am aggravated.

I don’t want to go to work.

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