If you haven't heard me say it yet, you're hearing me say it now...this is THE BEST BOOK EVER!!!! It's called 'Getting Love Right' and it's by Terence Gorski. Here's a link for you to check it out and get your own copy from my personal favorite book store ever, Powells Books - Getting Love Right.
I first saw this gem of a book in the curio cabinet at Schick when I was perusing through the titles of books for sale after a Women's Support Group meeting the first or second week I was home from rehab. The title grabbed me right away, and so I decided to buy it and see what I might learn, if anything, from it.
From the minute I started reading it, I knew that this book was going to teach me more about relationships than I have ever known. I couldn't put it down. Every page I read, led me deeper into a journey of self awareness that I've been eager to travel for some time, but never knew where to start.
You see, I've always known that I have some issues when it comes to being in a relationship, or at least when it comes to making one work, because frankly, I have always felt like love shouldn't be this hard. Now in the middle of divorce number two, and feeling like I know that better has to be out there, but I'm just not sure how to find it, or how to keep it. I was looking for answers, for guidance, for awareness, and I found all that and so much more within the pages of this one amazing book!
The author, Terry Gorski, does an incredible job of illuminating what dysfunctional relationships look like, sound like, and feel like. Then he takes it a step further to show you how a healthy relationship looks, sounds, and feels. This book is chock full of very practical, and easily understandable terms and theories that I could really relate with and apply to my own life and relationship history.
Reading this book was like getting to talk to an independent, unbiased third party, who could help me to understand the things that I do in a relationship that are dysfunctional and the things that I do that are healthy and how I can do less of the stuff that damages a relationship and more of the stuff that encourages a healthy relationship.
It's going to take a whole lot of practice and patience on my part, but I am super excited and eager to work at it, because I feel like I too, can get love right!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Who's My Baby?
I AM!
This is a question that I ask both of my girls all the time. It's become something of a game with us, that the girls adore and love to prompt me to ask. This little tradition started with Breck, my oldest before she could even talk or walk, where I would hold her little adorable self all wrapped in a towel, fresh from the bath, up in front of the medicine cabinet mirror and ask her "Who's my baby?" and then follow it up with "Breck is, Breck is!". It has now evolved to where, Brenna, my youngest, now almost five years old, especially loves to come up to me and whisper in my ear, "Mama, say who's my baby." And then I ask "Who's my baby?" and she gets a huge smile ear to ear and replies "I AM!" in cheerful, giggly sort of way, all giddy with excitement.
It occurred to me today though, that this is also a great question to ask myself. "Who's my baby?"
For eight and a half years now, my answer has been Breck and Brenna are my babies. While that answer is correct in every, very literal sense of the question, it also sheds a light into the darkness that consumed my life for so long, even before I had kids. Because that answer leaves the most important person in my life out...ME.
I am very nearly 39 years old. When asked to describe me, most people will use words like confident, tenacious, outgoing, tall, driven, and strong to name a few. Some might even use words like arrogant, aggressive, sarcastic, conceited, bitch, and vain. While still others might even venture out of the PG realm and...well...I won't publish language like that here. Fact of the matter is that through the past nearly 39 years, I have been all of that and more, mostly with the help of alcohol. But what I have never, ever, EVER been is sure of myself, because I didn't care about myself at all.
I'm working on that now though. Through my treatment at Schick-Shadel Hospital I was given an opportunity to push the pause button on life for 10 days and think about only one person...ME. Through the thoughtful and CARE-FULL attention of the counselors, nurses, and staff, I was shown the importance of putting myself first and foremost in life. I now know that I have to be okay before I can be okay for anyone else, including my family, or perhaps even, most importantly for my family; namely my daughters.
So ask me that question now. "Who's my baby?" My immediate reply is, "I AM!"
This is a question that I ask both of my girls all the time. It's become something of a game with us, that the girls adore and love to prompt me to ask. This little tradition started with Breck, my oldest before she could even talk or walk, where I would hold her little adorable self all wrapped in a towel, fresh from the bath, up in front of the medicine cabinet mirror and ask her "Who's my baby?" and then follow it up with "Breck is, Breck is!". It has now evolved to where, Brenna, my youngest, now almost five years old, especially loves to come up to me and whisper in my ear, "Mama, say who's my baby." And then I ask "Who's my baby?" and she gets a huge smile ear to ear and replies "I AM!" in cheerful, giggly sort of way, all giddy with excitement.
It occurred to me today though, that this is also a great question to ask myself. "Who's my baby?"
For eight and a half years now, my answer has been Breck and Brenna are my babies. While that answer is correct in every, very literal sense of the question, it also sheds a light into the darkness that consumed my life for so long, even before I had kids. Because that answer leaves the most important person in my life out...ME.
I am very nearly 39 years old. When asked to describe me, most people will use words like confident, tenacious, outgoing, tall, driven, and strong to name a few. Some might even use words like arrogant, aggressive, sarcastic, conceited, bitch, and vain. While still others might even venture out of the PG realm and...well...I won't publish language like that here. Fact of the matter is that through the past nearly 39 years, I have been all of that and more, mostly with the help of alcohol. But what I have never, ever, EVER been is sure of myself, because I didn't care about myself at all.
I'm working on that now though. Through my treatment at Schick-Shadel Hospital I was given an opportunity to push the pause button on life for 10 days and think about only one person...ME. Through the thoughtful and CARE-FULL attention of the counselors, nurses, and staff, I was shown the importance of putting myself first and foremost in life. I now know that I have to be okay before I can be okay for anyone else, including my family, or perhaps even, most importantly for my family; namely my daughters.
So ask me that question now. "Who's my baby?" My immediate reply is, "I AM!"
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Relapse, does it equal failure?
Relapse is so scary. When I say the word relapse, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? Who is the first person that you think of when you hear the word? Do you think of the addict and what it means to them and the fact that they are using again? Or do you consider the family or friends of the addict? How about how relapse affects those in recovery with the person who has relapsed? And what about the treatment program that the person just finished? Do you think of that program and does it change your opinion about the effectiveness of that program?
When I had heard the word relapse before now and have had personal experience with relapse, the only person I ever thought of is the addict. That was the only perspective that I could see or even consider. I never understood that when a person relapses it's like rocking the boat of recovery and creating waves that ripple outward and affect everyone even remotely vested in that recovery effort. For those closest emotionally to the addict, these waves roll in with the force and magnitude of a horrific tsunami. Crashing into the already shaky foundations of trust, hope, and belief and breaking them apart with a violent force.
To others, like those new friends that the addict made during treatment, these waves might roll in under the cover of huge dark clouds like a bad storm on the horizon. Causing those friends to batten down the hatches and protect their own new sobriety from exposure to the storm they see on the horizon. Which might leave the person in relapse feeling rejected or alone or like a failure.
The treatment program is like an island where the waves of relapse hit on every side. The family questions the program, the friends question the program, the addict questions the program, and those that went through treatment with the person in relapse, might question the program and its effectiveness. The signs of a world class program though, is one that always maintains a safe harbor for those in relapse to come back to. A shelter from the waves of the relapse. A shelter created from the confidence in their program and the knowledge that the program works whenever the person is completely ready to work it, and the knowledge that not everyone is ready the first time through.
Relapse is not failure. Relapse is inevitable until the person battling addiction learns to face their emotional crises and triggers with something other than alcohol or drugs. Relapse is inevitable until a person is ready to take off all of the masks and look in the mirror, to accept responsibility for their life. To take ownership of their life.
With 30 days into my recovery journey, I am finding that I have a new perspective on relapse. As a friend it is an opportunity for me to show compassion to the person who has relapsed. As a person in recovery, it is a reminder of how easy relapse can happen if I don't protect my sobriety every day and learn how to deal with my emotional crises in healthy, rational ways instead of a bottle.
Relapse does not equal failure. Relapse equals more practice needed at being sober.
When I had heard the word relapse before now and have had personal experience with relapse, the only person I ever thought of is the addict. That was the only perspective that I could see or even consider. I never understood that when a person relapses it's like rocking the boat of recovery and creating waves that ripple outward and affect everyone even remotely vested in that recovery effort. For those closest emotionally to the addict, these waves roll in with the force and magnitude of a horrific tsunami. Crashing into the already shaky foundations of trust, hope, and belief and breaking them apart with a violent force.
To others, like those new friends that the addict made during treatment, these waves might roll in under the cover of huge dark clouds like a bad storm on the horizon. Causing those friends to batten down the hatches and protect their own new sobriety from exposure to the storm they see on the horizon. Which might leave the person in relapse feeling rejected or alone or like a failure.
The treatment program is like an island where the waves of relapse hit on every side. The family questions the program, the friends question the program, the addict questions the program, and those that went through treatment with the person in relapse, might question the program and its effectiveness. The signs of a world class program though, is one that always maintains a safe harbor for those in relapse to come back to. A shelter from the waves of the relapse. A shelter created from the confidence in their program and the knowledge that the program works whenever the person is completely ready to work it, and the knowledge that not everyone is ready the first time through.
Relapse is not failure. Relapse is inevitable until the person battling addiction learns to face their emotional crises and triggers with something other than alcohol or drugs. Relapse is inevitable until a person is ready to take off all of the masks and look in the mirror, to accept responsibility for their life. To take ownership of their life.
With 30 days into my recovery journey, I am finding that I have a new perspective on relapse. As a friend it is an opportunity for me to show compassion to the person who has relapsed. As a person in recovery, it is a reminder of how easy relapse can happen if I don't protect my sobriety every day and learn how to deal with my emotional crises in healthy, rational ways instead of a bottle.
Relapse does not equal failure. Relapse equals more practice needed at being sober.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
A Month in Reflection
Today, May 10th, is exactly one month to the day when I graduated from Schick-Shadel, and how did I spend it? Well, nursemaiding to my sick daughters was part of it, washing the last remaining car signed up for the staff appreciation car wash was another, and it ended with attending the 7:00pm group session back at Schick this evening, topped off by staying for the gratitude session.
What a month it has been! The past couple of weeks have been personally challenging for me because I have been struggling with maintaining my worldly communication. In lay terms, I haven't felt much like talking the past couple of weeks. No, I haven't totally withdrawn, and I have kept up the lines of open communication with those closest to me, but the outward, more public talking has been a challenge.
I think I did such a good job of expressing myself the first couple of weeks that I maybe ran short of fresh material? Ha! Nope, that's not it. Honestly, I've been in an ebb of emotion. Kind of a numbness of letting life as it is now sink in and settle over me for a while, and just not feeling real up to sharing about it. I haven't even journaled for several days. I've thought about it, but I've let those thoughts come and go and haven't been real diligent about keeping up that expression of myself these past two weeks.
Don't get me wrong, I have been doing my work, but the work has been harder to do, if that makes any sense? It's like I've hit a vein of really hard material below the soft loamy surface material that was kind of easy to dig into. Now it's one painful swing of the pick axe after another, with only minor chips in the surface happening. I can see and feel progress, but it's minuscule in comparison to the depths I dug up to now. I imagine that this is pretty normal in the process of recovery and in the process of getting to know myself better. Some things are bound to be easier to dig into than others and some times I am going to feel more like talking than others.
It is one month later though and I feel really good. The sun shined today and I got to share another day with my family. I get to check back into Schick this week for my 30 day recap treatment and I'm pretty darned excited about that. I will get to see my sisters (the girlfriends that I made during treatment) again and we will get to share about our struggles and victories and I am really looking forward to that.
What a month it has been! The past couple of weeks have been personally challenging for me because I have been struggling with maintaining my worldly communication. In lay terms, I haven't felt much like talking the past couple of weeks. No, I haven't totally withdrawn, and I have kept up the lines of open communication with those closest to me, but the outward, more public talking has been a challenge.
I think I did such a good job of expressing myself the first couple of weeks that I maybe ran short of fresh material? Ha! Nope, that's not it. Honestly, I've been in an ebb of emotion. Kind of a numbness of letting life as it is now sink in and settle over me for a while, and just not feeling real up to sharing about it. I haven't even journaled for several days. I've thought about it, but I've let those thoughts come and go and haven't been real diligent about keeping up that expression of myself these past two weeks.
Don't get me wrong, I have been doing my work, but the work has been harder to do, if that makes any sense? It's like I've hit a vein of really hard material below the soft loamy surface material that was kind of easy to dig into. Now it's one painful swing of the pick axe after another, with only minor chips in the surface happening. I can see and feel progress, but it's minuscule in comparison to the depths I dug up to now. I imagine that this is pretty normal in the process of recovery and in the process of getting to know myself better. Some things are bound to be easier to dig into than others and some times I am going to feel more like talking than others.
It is one month later though and I feel really good. The sun shined today and I got to share another day with my family. I get to check back into Schick this week for my 30 day recap treatment and I'm pretty darned excited about that. I will get to see my sisters (the girlfriends that I made during treatment) again and we will get to share about our struggles and victories and I am really looking forward to that.
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