The Negativity.

I was flying high for many days after the first successful weekend of going out of town and not relapsing since my first relapse. PF and I texted often, nearly everyday.

Then, the day after Valentine's Day, he drifted off. He said he needed to focus more on school work and AA during the week. I disbelieved at first, but thought maybe he meant that as the weekend came back around and we chatted again.

The following week was quiet. I worked on stuff for class and went to each 6 o'clock meeting everyday. Friday rolled around and I happily received a message from PF after my AA meeting. Later that night we met up in chat. This time, I wondered if something I said or did not say did something. An all-too-familiar feeling of being ignored came around. I said I enjoyed seeing him and chatting but the same sentiment was not returned. A quick bid goodnight and nothing more.

I had wanted to talk on the phone with him again for the past 2-3 weeks, but he seemed uninterested in doing that anymore. Is it my imagination? Is he already backing off? I am baffled and confused, not to mention butthurt. What did I do to make such a drastic change in his behavior towards me? I keep comparing it to when we first began talking--he seemed so interested. Not anymore.

It is hard to keep from taking such things personally. To wonder why the same scenario keeps reasserting its ugly ass in my face. Obviously there is something within me--most likely my insecurities and neediness. Negative thoughts kept whirling in my head all day today. I went over to my sponsor's, N, house to do laundry and some step work. I wanted to talk to her about all what was bothering me but:

1. I thought she might get tired of me talking about PF and my feelings of rejection, and--
2. There were too many damn people around.

So I kept quiet. After my laundry was finished, I went to drop the clean clothes off at my apartment and went up to the 8 o'clock meeting. All along the way, I kept envisioning being rejected one way or another by PF (even though it hadn't actually happened out in the open yet). I thought about different ways I would reject him before he had the chance to reject me. Just to hurt him. What ways would I do it to make him feel the worst? What method could I use to give him all the pain of rejection that I have collectively felt during the past 10 years by every man I ever loved/cared about? And what then? Would he then apologize for the non-existent offense and profess his admiration for me? Or would he--more likely--call me bat-shit crazy/a bitch/a cunt/a sad and pathetic specimen/etc. and then shun me for the rest of eternity, treating me only with disdain and pity from then on out? And me just sitting there, feeling worse than ever before, feeling no satisfaction nor control from which (I would have thought) I would feel from giving said fictional rejection...

I arrived at the meeting. It was a small, intimate group. Only a handful of us. I sat in the front next to my sponsor and nobody was sitting in my view across from me (like there usually is). If I felt like sharing tonight, I wouldn't feel quite as nervous this time around.

I shared a few times before I relapsed, but this time around after getting a new sponsor and starting all over again--it seemed to be much harder for me to speak in front of my group. It felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest and run off every time I even thought about sharing during a meeting. The fucking shit sucked and it was ridiculous how hard it was for me to control my anxiety. I don't mind the idea of sharing, and there are nights that I want to share--but when I think about trying it, I tend to feel like I am about to pass out or heave while my heart jumps out in its hyper-pounding glory.

Tonight, it was a reading from the book, As Bill Sees It. I had never read anything from this book before. People took turns to read a page from it and give their own thoughts about it. The general topic of the night was 'Fear'. I flipped through the book and quickly spotted out a page that I wanted to read out. My heart started doing the rave dance in my chest. I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees and lowered my head down a bit.

Finally, after someone finished sharing, I cleared my throat and found the courage to speak up, I'm Cassandra and I'm an alcoholic.
The small group chimed, Hi, Cassandra!
I cleared my throat again and began:

The section I want to read is not directly related to fear, but I find that my own fear stems from what this talks about. It is on page 72:

"Dependence: Unhealthy or Healthy.

Nothing can be more demoralizing than a clinging and abject dependence upon another human being. This often amounts to the demand for a degree of protection and love that no one could possibly satisfy. So our hoped-for protectors finally flee, and once more we are left alone--either to grow up or to disintegrate.

We discovered the best source of emotional stability to be God Himself. We found that dependence upon His perfect justice, forgiveness, and love was healthy, and that it would work where nothing else would.

If we really depended upon God, we couldn't very well play God to our fellows, nor would we feel the urge to rely wholly on human protection and care."

I leaned back and paused for a moment after reading the page. Of course, the word 'God' and all that kind of talk made my face scrunch up into a cringe, but I had been taking my sponsor's advice to read GOD as in Good Orderly Direction, or sometimes--as another recovering drunk put it--'God' could be read as a misspelled 'Good'.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat once more before continuing on. I picked this out because of how much I relate to it. I began drinking because I was and am so socially-retarded. Drinking made it easier for me to interact with others. I also felt I was a lovable drunk, though not quite so much when sober. 

The crowd chuckled.

When I quit drinking, a void remained. I still have the habit of trying to fill it with personal relationships and men. I realize I traded in alcohol for something else. Quitting drinking is a big step, but it isn't enough. I know I need to solve the issues that caused me to begin drinking in the first place. 

I paused again. I wanted to share something more profound, but I couldn't find the words for it.

That's all I got for the evening, I said finally.

The crowd gave an enthusiastic, Thank you, Cassandra! and I slumped back down further in my seat. My heart slowed a bit from the techno party beat, and I listened for the rest of the meeting.

After the meeting, my sponsor and I stood outside apart from the others that were playing with a hacky sack. The negative, self-pity feelings were beginning to get to be too much to bear, so I talked to her about what had been bothering me. She related stories from her life before she got sober, about the men she was married to and whom used to beat, rape, and verbally abuse her. She had long relationships with such men because she wanted so badly to work it and be wanted by someone, anyone. After hearing her stories, I remembered thinking I was so desperate for attention and affection, that I, too, probably would have put up with such abuse. Low Self-Esteem 'R' Us.

I went home, still feeling sad but yet not as bad as before, after having a pretty good meeting and especially after talking more personally with my sponsor for a bit.

Now, it is half-past midnight. PF had said last night that he would probably be online tonight, but no-show and no-text. My dependency and neediness knows no bounds.