WMB,
A couple years ago, I could've, and maybe i even DID write exactly the post you did, but insert "man" instead b****. And believe me that man was as bad as I thought he was. Which makes me wonder why I gave a crap about him, and why, if indeed he WAS a reason I used, I would allow him that much power.
I used to think, as I got wasted, how ironic it was that he, a recovering addict, was the reason I was doing that to myself.
Many times during that relationship I tried to stop, both using AND the relationship. I told myself I didn't need him (I have a sex/relationship addiction too) and I'd just replace him (and the booze, drugs, food) with something I could count on. (cutting) I am NOT kidding, that was how my mind functioned.
Then I had to give up cutting or I was going to get thrown out of my house and into the psych ward...so then what. I decided to throw myself into my art and pets, because my pets loved me no matter what and being a hopeless addict and terminally depressed and then manic, was "cool", excepted and understood in the art world.
I was looking for the people around me to validate my behavior, and got got p**** as s*** when they didn't. When they had the nerve to suggest there might be a better solution. Not one that was more convenient for them, but one that would give me some real options in life.
I decided to swear off men, forever. I decided to stop eating and lost 60 pounds in four months. See, putting the things I played out my addictions with...men, food, cutting, really didn't address my problems. I was angry, sad, felt hopeless, isolated, went off by myself into all sorts of risky situations thinking "they'll be sorry, one day when they find my dead body and all my amazing art, poetry and writing, they'll say to themselves...why didn't we realize what a genius she was? Why didn't we TAKE BETTER CARE OF HER?"
Fast forward a few months. I got into NA (I was, again, afraid to lose my place to live) and I started to transfer my issues to the people in NA...how do they expect me to stay clean, that b**** didn't even call back. My sponsor is bats**** crazy, I don't like the way so and so looks at me in a meeting, when I told them how I felt, they didn't get all riled up with me, they told me to stop worrying what everyone around me did and work my program. Wow, seemed everyone in my life was cold and no one cared if I made it or not.
Fast forward six months. I was told not to come home, so much for my art and my pets. I lost my home, family, friends, belongings, and financial support. People are so cold. I had a problem, couldn't they see it wasn't my fault? couldn't they just take care of me, fix me?
The thing was, no they couldn't. Their best efforts, love and attempts to soothe me did no good. They saw that long before I did. The people in NA knew that they couldn't fix me, and if I was not willing to set my anger aside long enough to consider what they were saying, that there was nothing more they could do. All they had to offer was their own experience, and I didn't care about anyone's experience except my own.
Fast forward six months. Me sitting in my one room, rocking back and forth on my bed, swigging out of a bottle and popping valium and benedryl, praying for sleep.
Fast forward six months, I have some goldfish and plants by then, I found a way to make art out of garbage since my supplies are gone. There is really no one around me to blame my desperation on, though I find a few that I can claim are the guilty party..my boss who snapped at me at work, my ex who wouldn't send me money (that b*****d) and finally myself, because it's starting to dawn on me that I am the common denominator in these experiences,and I'm starting to see that all those losers and credents are getting on with their lives, and those cold hearted NA people are still clean and I am still a strung out hopeless addict. Obviously I am a desperate case, the one who is too far gone to get and stay sober...so I overdose because I can't bear to wake up another day with myself, and my pointless life.
I didn't plan well enough, because of course I was wasted when I made my decision and someone called the ambulance and I lived.
Fast forward four months. I'm clean. I am not blaming anyone for my behavior, not even me. I'm an addict. I truly was insane, terrified, hopeless and had no reasonable ways to address life. But I am also and adult, and believe it or not, there are people out there who still care about me and are telling me there is hope. And I am working a program that is teaching me how to address life, rather than try to make it all go away. And I am starting to believe there is hope, and I see why I acted like I did before, and most importantly I see why it didn't work and that there are ways I can act that will get me closer to where I want to be. I have less money, because I am paying ambulance and hospital bills. But that really isn't anyone's fault (I was blaming them on the person who called 911 at first).
The world is what it is. My boss still snaps and my ex...lets not go there...but I can act differently. Before I merely reacted to everything going on around me, some days I was estatic, only a few hours later to dive into a black depression over some tiny slight. I find that happening less and less now that I am able to do a reality check.
The world didn't change, but I changed my behavior and the ways I react to the things going on around me.
In two months time, it'll be another six months, and I'll check back in with you and let you know how things are going.