Someone spoke tonight about hitting a second rock bottom, but for that one, she was sober.  “Sober” as in not drinking but totally not healthy.  Hitting sober rock bottom might be worse than drinking rock bottom.  Sober rock bottom might be more lonely and scary and questionably insane.  When you’re not drinking, and you haven’t drank in 3 months, and you realize that you are LIVING SOBER LIFE and it SUCKS, well, there’s not much hope in that.

At least when drinking and hitting bottom you think- well shit, I can stop drinking!  It seems logical.

No.  These past 4 or so days have been the worst of my past 3 months.  The pain did not come and go in waves.  Feelings did not “pass” as everyone insists they do.  I did not lie my head down proud of myself for another sober day.  It was constant.  A dull, or not dull, constant ache, ever since arriving in Chicago.  And upon returning, it went crazy.  Not at all dull.  Crazy.  Painful.  ACHING CONSTANTLY.  Not a subtle ache in the back but pressure pushing on my chest so hard.  I tried yoga breathing through it and it did help for 1-5 seconds at a time once in a while.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating but I might be.  I’m not sure of anything because really nothing is clear.

I’m so frustrated that things haven’t gotten better.

R put it this way: you’ve been abstaining for 3 months.  Abstaining.  And you know- it’s better than drinking I guess but when you just abstain without actually doing the work, you’re really just white knuckling through it.  It doesn’t have to be that way.

I thought that was very wise and so accurate.  So very true.  I have been white knuckling it.  I have not been “working it”… I have worked it a few times, but I gather that this is not the kind of thing you “work on” and then chill and hang out.  I have not worked on it every day.  I GET THROUGH the days but I don’t “work” the steps on a daily basis.

After the first meeting I tried reading some of the big book but it annoyed me and was over my head.  Meeting with K, I filled out the (what I then thought were) foofy questions in the Women’s way workbook.  I like things to be meaty, and it wasn’t meaty at all, so it tired me out.  I didn’t take the initiative to make it more.  So I just… stopped.

Now…. today…. what a mess.

A mess of 8,000, maybe 10,000 calories.  Who can keep track once it gets to a certain point of crazy.

And tomorrow the cycle will continue.  I will starve myself.  I know I shouldn’t.  That I shouldn’t let food have that power over me.  But I can’t let go of the pain and the fear.

Maybe this is what people mean and how they feel when they say they can’t let go of their sadness or their pain from other things… I am starting to understand.

I thought logically today, played the tape through, about just giving up.  Just drinking.  I know I’m not supposed to.  I know it really isn’t REALLY an option, but then, how can I go on like this?  How can I feel this pressure and this pain inside and just want to crumble, and continue to do life like this?  I can not.  I just don’t understand anything.  I called L a 2nd day in a row.  She was so helpful, so many insightful things.  Yet, I thought about drinking.  I ate more food afterwards.  I just choose to harm myself.  I thought about burning myself.  I did not.  I thought about not coming home after my meeting, no sense in that, but I just was grasping at anything to try to distract myself from the real pain.  I thought about taking a handful of xanax.  I will not.

For the first time, I admitted and said out loud to H that I don’t feel God’s presence and love today.  That He isn’t helping me very much.  I wasn’t so much angry as I was heartbroken.  It’s too hard, I thought, and God wouldn’t make this SO hard for me.  Yet here I am.  And God must still love me, right?  But this is SO HARD.  And my brain goes to: if He loved me He would be here with me more,  helping me.

It’s good when my brain goes there because it helps me to see the lunacy in those thoughts.  If I didn’t have this God on my side I’d have been dead long ago.  He must be with me, whether I *feel* it or not, he must be the reason I am still upright, because I really wouldn’t be….

Chicago was so hard in so many ways.

It is so hard for me to see all the billboards along the expressway for the strip clubs.  It brings me pain from the ways H betrayed, lied and hurt me for years.  The signs for “massage parlors” that are open until 4 am.  Whorehouses.  They tear open my wounds and sprinkle a healthy dose of salt in them.  Our hotel room was crappy.  H made a bad joke when I was already sensitive.  The pool was cold.  The sink was tiny.  I found fault in everything.  And then, I had nothing to do but lie on a bed and try and amuse a 3 year old for hours and hours and hours.  We didn’t plan well and there was a snowstorm and we had no coats.  I just sucked it up and dealt with it.  Pain.  Desire for food into mouth.  Pain.  Knowing a drink would take it away.  Agony.  No drink.  Just food –> worse somehow.

Then I saw J and it was awful.  We had about 20 minutes, during which somehow, she found ways to offer unsolicited criticism, dump her totally immoral problems on me, and bleh.

Her boss is in love with her and again, spent hours the night before with her trying to woo her.  She soaks it up.  Another friend tells her she should kiss him.  She wonders if that would be the right thing to do.  The man she is in love with is *not* there because he is having chemo.  And she told me that yesterday and was puzzled that I didn’t respond.  And wasn’t I sad?  And my “track suit” was cute?  And my hair would look nice if I cut off *this* much?  And she’d feel better if love man did die because then her heart and reciprocated love for him could be at peace?  And why couldn’t I get together for dinner with her while I’m on my family vacation?  And did I get that other message, because why didn’t I reply to that?

Just this onslaught of requests and commands and demands and things I frankly do not want to hear about.  I do not want to hear about her lover.  About her trying to decide who she should run away with.  About how she continually makes ridiculously horrible choices, and there I am, assuaging her pain constantly, right?  Co dependent to the max.  Makes me sick the way I behave.  And then that whole day- it builds up.  Up and up and up and up.  And we drive home and I just melt away into nothing.

And the next day, today, I wake up yearning for *something* that can not be satisfied in a healthy way, or so I think.  I want 9 donuts or 7 bagels with cream cheese or 8 muffins OR I could simply have some wine.  But no.  No wine.  So bagels will do.  And then 5 bowls of cereal and 10 slices of cheese.  It doesn’t matter if we don’t have sugary foods.  I will stuff anything I can get into my sad little mouth.

Odd thing is that with everything I put  my body through today, I’m still in pain.  Right now, I hurt.  The pressure is so heavy and pushing and hurting.  There’s no way around it, there’s no cover up.  Well, there could be, but I’m not letting myself choose that today.

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