[Don W]

Not sure if anyone can identify but, for the last few weeks I've been dragging myself into using the tools needed to stay sober and on target. Most of the time I've enjoyed doing the work needed. Trying to fight the desire to strike out at others. I'm doing OK but, I don't feel like doing anything. Then feel guilty for not doing anything. Fighting the desire to throw in towel at times and wondering how to change this pattern takes all my energy. Sometimes, I forget and ask for help out loud. My wife hears me say, "God help me". and of course questions. Sometime, believe it or not, I'm even overwhelmed by what I've been able to do. How can you be overwhelmed by recovery? It's hard to explain. Sort of like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I made a mistake and watched a program on PBS about survivors of abuse. I kept clicking away and the back. Some were telling my story, stories you've told on SR. Young children, afraid of being murdured yet, maybe not understanding at their young age what murduer was. I could relate so much. Being told by those that sexually abused me that I would be killed if I told. Not totaly understnading why I'd be killed for something they taught me was OK. Another of those false lessons. I only watched for about 5 minutes but, in those five minutes a lifetime of, I don't even know what to call it. But, a life- time. I think I can point the start reading a post by someone that mirrored my abusive childhood. I always go through a period of adjustment when new knowledge or flashback happen. I had one the other day. My mother was living with her mother and father, I think a nervous breakdown and father was in hospital from heart attack. It was Christmas, and like my when my parents were there an older one took us for a walk Chrismas Eve. When we returned santa had been there. I think me and my two brothers were between 5 and 8. Anyway, my sister took us for a walk and as joke told us our parents had been killed. She even put us to bed letting us believe it. Strange even back then word of my mother being killed devistated me, my father? there was relief, no more beatings. The next time this feeling happened was in 67 in the Navy got word he died. I've always felt guilty about being happy and relieved. I couldn't even cry to hide my feelings during the funeral. Although I was out of his reach, I felt relief for the youger children still at home. I haven't thought about this for years.