On reaching out when life gets hard
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On reaching out when life gets hard
I've thought so many times that things are hard. Life is hard, recovery is hard, work sucks, on and on. I find ways to be grateful, I plow through. One day at a time. Seven months, now a little longer than that. Then, on Monday afternoon, my life got a new perspective when an aunt called me and told me about some unthinkable gossip: my father isn't really my father. She presented damning evidence that my mother lied to everyone: me, my father, and both families. In my gut I knew what she said was true and I was devastated. My biological father is a smart but sneaky, cheating, thieving man who has been in the outer perifery of my life for forty years, and everyone around me knew, except me, and maybe, my dad. Oh, the the lying sneaking thieving dude's dad died of alcoholism in the 80s.
I cried, and raged, and hated on myself. I came here and looked but didn't post. I thought a few times very seriously about drinking. I stopped caring about anything, I called my mother, who admitted it was true, I called uncles and aunts who sheepishly said they always thought it was true, I looked online at the damning evidence that yes, I look just like this guy, and his family. My life was based on a lie, and shame. My sisters are my half sisters, and I have god knows how many other half siblings, with smiling faces that look like mine and little kids that look like me. I'm Irish, suddenly, the week after saint patricks day.
I win an award this week for the most unproductive week at work ever. I took three sick days, but accomplished nothing on Monday or Friday. I was way more productive than that on the worst weeks drinking. And tonight I thought I'd just break it, and drink, so, instead I called an old friend of 20 years. And poured it all out on the phone for two hours.
What a salvation our relationships are. She listened, and empathized, and she called me on my ****. Pointed out that I need to be open minded and what I've heard isn't true unless it's true, and everyone has a story. This is mine. Have I mentioned I'm not an easy person to negotiate with? Especially when I'm swearing up a storm and interspersing it with crying. But something broke about an hour in.
She said "bexxed you might come from a family of sneaks and thieves. Well you're smart, so maybe it's true. So hey, make it good. Everyone has a story. Understanding your own story is the best thing. You know there's always been some things that don't add up. Now you get it. Think of all the things you've pulled over on your poor dad when you were a kid. You were just a sneaky O'Malley*." (*not the real name).
And suddenly it was funny. Suddenly I couldn't believe I thought about wasting my life drinking over something that was actually really funny. I'd gotten mad at another friend's doltish boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, for good reason, and told him I thought he was a jerk. Oh, it's the O'Malley in me. I lied my way out of a speeding ticket ten years ago. Scrappy O'Malley. I once sold my car for more than I'd paid for it, years after I'd bought it. Yep, the O'Malley struck again. She just went on and on making fun of me and it became so hilarious I had to ask her to stop because my stomach hurt from laughing.
I don't know if this made sense but I think it's important to remember that nothing is so earth shattering (and I recognize that some awful things will never be funny persay) - that there is absolutely no other perspective to approach it from. And sometimes we have to find the choice to move forward and that choice is so much closer than it might seem. And often, or maybe always, we have to trust someone else when it's the last thing we think we could do, to show us the way. I was feeling really resentful and distrustful of everyone and everything in my past present and future, and it was understandable, and that was the time that I really needed to trust something larger than me that I don't understand, pick up the phone, and reach out.
I'm so grateful I did.
B
I cried, and raged, and hated on myself. I came here and looked but didn't post. I thought a few times very seriously about drinking. I stopped caring about anything, I called my mother, who admitted it was true, I called uncles and aunts who sheepishly said they always thought it was true, I looked online at the damning evidence that yes, I look just like this guy, and his family. My life was based on a lie, and shame. My sisters are my half sisters, and I have god knows how many other half siblings, with smiling faces that look like mine and little kids that look like me. I'm Irish, suddenly, the week after saint patricks day.
I win an award this week for the most unproductive week at work ever. I took three sick days, but accomplished nothing on Monday or Friday. I was way more productive than that on the worst weeks drinking. And tonight I thought I'd just break it, and drink, so, instead I called an old friend of 20 years. And poured it all out on the phone for two hours.
What a salvation our relationships are. She listened, and empathized, and she called me on my ****. Pointed out that I need to be open minded and what I've heard isn't true unless it's true, and everyone has a story. This is mine. Have I mentioned I'm not an easy person to negotiate with? Especially when I'm swearing up a storm and interspersing it with crying. But something broke about an hour in.
She said "bexxed you might come from a family of sneaks and thieves. Well you're smart, so maybe it's true. So hey, make it good. Everyone has a story. Understanding your own story is the best thing. You know there's always been some things that don't add up. Now you get it. Think of all the things you've pulled over on your poor dad when you were a kid. You were just a sneaky O'Malley*." (*not the real name).
And suddenly it was funny. Suddenly I couldn't believe I thought about wasting my life drinking over something that was actually really funny. I'd gotten mad at another friend's doltish boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, for good reason, and told him I thought he was a jerk. Oh, it's the O'Malley in me. I lied my way out of a speeding ticket ten years ago. Scrappy O'Malley. I once sold my car for more than I'd paid for it, years after I'd bought it. Yep, the O'Malley struck again. She just went on and on making fun of me and it became so hilarious I had to ask her to stop because my stomach hurt from laughing.
I don't know if this made sense but I think it's important to remember that nothing is so earth shattering (and I recognize that some awful things will never be funny persay) - that there is absolutely no other perspective to approach it from. And sometimes we have to find the choice to move forward and that choice is so much closer than it might seem. And often, or maybe always, we have to trust someone else when it's the last thing we think we could do, to show us the way. I was feeling really resentful and distrustful of everyone and everything in my past present and future, and it was understandable, and that was the time that I really needed to trust something larger than me that I don't understand, pick up the phone, and reach out.
I'm so grateful I did.
B
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