F*ing crazy bus

I got on the crazy bus and took a short ride last night. There's an acronym in recovery - HALT.
Hungry, angry, lonely, tired? One of those, two, all of the above? Halt. Don't be making any damn decisions right now. Just stop. Be still.

Oops.

You did what?

Ya, and it woke me up at 3:30 a.m. this morning. What the fuck? Couldn't go back to sleep. Prayed for awhile which honestly sounded more like whimpering and groaning. And then, thankful for the time change for once, called home and talked to my step-dad, then talked to my sweet soulmate Sara B. on the Cape who answered on the first ring, praise God, with a "hey, you" like she was expecting my call, and then my mom called. I just wanted to puke. I was frustrated. Embarrassed. Torn up. Needing to let go.

I relapsed and I was coming to.

It's hard work being a recovering enabler who relapses. Counting the minutes at home until I coud get down here to the cafe and write an apology. I feel so much better now. I exhaust myself.

There's been a lot going on near and in my life. A lot of it's had to do with work and R. But, there's also been a lot going on with my dad. Off of his meds again, not leaving the house, etc. My sister called me last week and gave me the news. I just don't have the energy for it and I don't acknowledge how much it affects me just having it in the back of my mind even if I say all my mantras and stand firm in my decision not to jump in and try to save the day. Don't worry, I tried to do it somewhere else. When it gets all built up like that it comes out sideways.

I'm learning to have grace for myself. I can "do" all the right things: extra meetings with my spiritual director, dinners and laughter with friends, 6-8 week hiatus from the jail, meeting the MKs for ice cream, coffee with my pastor, prayer, listen to music, rent movies, go to yoga, ask for prayer, on and on and on.

I'm still going to have trouble being myself sometimes. I'm still going to fuck it up. I'm still going to have to remind myself to loosen my grip and unclench my teeth. Like Suzanne says, "You may relapse, but you're not going back to the old ways." Like Darrell says, "but you're still human, Emily."

It's not a fucking a-ha moment for anyone else that I'm not perfect, that I don't have it all together. I know that too, but I prefer it when I harbor the illusion that it appears like I've got it together to the outside world. You know, still duck on the surface paddling like hell underneath? I've laughed about that with a couple of people this week.

I've been asked to preach this weekend. The date was set a couple of months ago and it seems funny to me now. Ridiculous and perfect timing. I'm planning to preach on getting off the cross of enabling, believing that I have some special power for enabling other's healing, and surrending to my Life instead of sacrifing myself on the altar of focusing on others to the point of self-extinction and deterioration. I don't want to pick up the ropes to lower my paralyzed friend through the roof of the house unless my friend is willing to be on the damn bed, I'm surrounded by others, Jesus is in the room below, and that the Spirit nudges me instead of my avoidance of the life that's waiting for me if I'd just HALT and be still for a moment to listen.