To me, “trust” and “safety” do not go with “sex.”
Neither do consent, equality, and respect belong with the idea of sex.
However, these are aspects of healthy sex. But I just can’t see that.
With possible sponsors, I’m observing people and looking for evidence of the following:
- Someone who is trustworthy.
- Someone who seems interested in getting to know me.
- Someone who doesn’t often use the word “God.”
- Someone who is safe.
I feel like I need an excessive amount of evidence of the above, before I can approach the person. It’s like slowly building up “rep” points in my own faction if this was part of the game, World of Warcraft.
IF “RECOVERY” MEANS “TRUSTING OTHERS,” FORGET IT!
I don’t want to get better. I don’t want to go through the 12 Steps. I don’t want to recover, because it seems like recovery means to be open with others.
I don’t want to become intimate with family members or coworkers. If recovery means becoming emotionally vulnerable to those fucks, then I don’t want it. I’d choose a life of pain and misery alone, rather than pain and misery caused by them.
7th grade might have been my first fantasy. I read Lord of the Rings and I fantasized about being an elf, and one of the elves in the story (Glorfindel) would come and rescue me, tell me I’m special, and taking me into a special elf world, where I’d live forever.
By middle school (6-8th grades), I slowly started withdrawing and started to gradually fear intimacy. I don’t think I’ve ever had a trusting, intimate, safe relationship.
IS IT WORTH IT?
It’s getting more difficult to open up, during meetings. I wonder if I’m heading straight down towards “rock bottom.”
Many addicts need to hit bottom before deciding to finally change. I guess I’m no different.
Emotional rock bottom. Fun times.
Even in the Monday night SAA meetings, I share less. I haven’t cried at a meeting in about 3 weeks, I think. Just shutting down, at least on the outside.
How can I break the trust barrier without going through Hell? Well, I guess I have to keep going through this bullshit hell of recovery. Someone, somewhere said that it’s worth it.
USING A SCAPEGOAT TO DISTRACT FROM THE REAL PROBLEM?
In my family, I often felt like a black sheep and a scapegoat. The problem child. I’m sick of that bullshit. That is a huge reason why I no longer talk to any of them. I was “too sensitive” and “couldn’t take a joke” when made fun of.
Did I become the focus of concern?
Did it shift attention away from what was really wrong?
What was really wrong, anyway? What was the main addiction or problem? Was it my dad? My mom?
Do I have the right to be happy?
Can someone prove the answer is yes?
I require proof and evidence. I don’t trust dumb/blind opinions.
PLAYING ‘MINI ME’ IN MY RELATIONSHIPS
From an article: “It is very easy to ‘love’ the child who displays the ‘mini me’ of the parents.”
I learned that very quickly, in childhood: The way to get love is to be who my parents wanted me to be.
It carried over into friendships and all relationships and work atmospheres. I adapted and changed myself to match who the others are, in order to be “loved,” accepted, etc. Pretty shitty.
I don’t feel safe being myself. In the past, I felt like I wasn’t even allowed to figure out what “myself” really is.
I’m guessing that both my parents each had some absolute major personal problems that went unchecked. It affected me, because they didn’t know how to deal with themselves. This does not excuse their behavior, but perhaps it can help me let go of the homicidal and suicidal rage boiling inside me. Yeah, I’m pretty bitter.
I’ve been gathering research and information about myself—almost as if I’m writing a paper for grad school or something.
I feel like it’s almost time to start writing an outline, or maybe just dive right into an intro and beginning of my written First Step. I’m worried about it being too long, or boring the people I read it to. I’ve been called “annoying” before; I don’t want to risk the pain of hearing that label again. The person who said it was a friend, roommate and coworker. I looked up to her, almost as like a mentor. I’ve always loved mentors in movies—the ones who guide the lost heroes.
Batman Begins, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Dune… all those movies with heroes had mentors they could look up to. I’m jealous!
Curse these wretched SAA people.
They are trying to melt the giant ice sculpture walls I’ve built around myself to avoid intimacy and contact.
EMBARRASSED ABOUT CRYING AT EVERY SAA MEETING
I typed out a long page and I meant to read this at the SAA meeting, but I couldn’t. Even at the Monday night SAA group [my favorite one], I can no longer speak, at least not without crying.
It’s too embarassing to cry—not to mention that it’s more difficult to understand what someone is saying, as they’re sobbing.
I don’t know what to do—the Monday group was supposed to be the safe spot. I needed to walk out, in the first 10 minutes. I cried outside, cried in the bathroom. I went back in, quickly gathered my notebook and had to leave, with a quiet, “Excuse me.”
If I can’t even stay at the Monday group, then where the fuck am I supposed to go?
[Note: I remember crying at every single SAA meeting for at least the first month, maybe more.]
Wow, almost to the end of this journal. It’s been one fucking crazy ride so far.
I think I’m almost ready to open up again. Heh…Maybe I just need to have a couple more people beat me over the head with, “Yes, I will help you.” They need to spell it out for me, so I can be absolutely sure.
So many people in my past have said they’ll never leave me, and always be together. But it doesn’t work out. So my trust in those words are low. Because obviously people can lie. So can I.
Man, this journal is filled with excuses, eh? Haha