The elephants smell bad. The food makes me sick. The port-o- potties always lean like the tower of Pisa and I fear they are going to fucking tip and fall whilst I am inside them.
I always end up sitting on that unknown “something sticky” on those bench seats.
‘Aint it ironic though, that lately my life feels like it’s become a three-ring fucking circus.
I’ve got this recovery thing going on in the main ring. Which includes my shrink and my 12 step peeps.
In ring number two is the old Gypsy woman Maleva, from 1941 film The Wolf Man , who seems to whisper for me to grab her pentagram necklace for protection because my qualifier, “the wolf” is always an imminent threat. As she yammers her ever so famous line,
“even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers at night, can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright.”
Stupid gypsy, he came over on Valentines day you know. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t wearing the necklace and he bought me.
Then in a third ring there’s this new crap emerging. A new guy. We’ll call him B. New, but not new really. Same old pattern. addiction, is like that, it progresses and proliferates like a cancer, if untreated. This this time oddly, I seem to playthe role of the love-avoidant. Part of me feels smothered by his advances, part of me intoxicated by finally attracting a truly kind and decent man somehow (this truly escapes me as I have NO self-esteem).
BUT EVERYTHING IS WRONG. The timing is especially wrong. I need recovery! not someone to rescue me. I”m not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere. (Even if I feel like I am) My sponsor warns me, that a 4 attracts a 4. That if I am still broken, I cannot possibly be attracting a “together”person, however he is presenting. Veneer is veneer.
Sweet Jesus. This is scaring me.
My shrink is starting to scare me. Well not her, but what is going on inside me….She matters to me. I really like her. I have gone through shrinks like Grant took Richmond. Most of them don’t know their ass from their elbow. This one, is bright, witty, funny as hell and knows her shit. She is the first to find a way to ground me when I start “drifting”. That speaks volumes alone about her ability in my mind. No one of her predecessors even was aware I was drifting. I am afraid she will leave, maybe her husband will get a job someplace. Maybe she’ll get hit by a bus or some shit. Yanno, crazy irrational shit goes through my mind at night. All that transference shit that is supposed to happen is happening. And that’s a good thing I suppose. Then I wonder if she likes me back or whether she dreads me coming into her office. But I actually( amazingly even) told her all this shit.
When I get close to people, or shall I say, when they get too close to my heart I tend to run. Run from safety. I tend to sabotage things. Sometimes unconsciously, sometimes knowingly. I believe my shrink may be able to help me. At other more pessimistic times, I feel beyond her help. Either way I’m scared to death. She invokes some pretty strong emotions in me, that go back into my childhood. She has power over me and she doesn’t realise it. Or maybe she does. Thus far, people in positions of power have mistreated me. So the knee-jerk reaction is to run like hell as fast as I can away.
I haven’t been going to 12 step meetings as much probably for the same reason.
I am so very frightened right now. So I have returned to what is familiar. Those old circus clowns. They scare me, sure they can hurt me. But they are a swamp I know well. I know every inch of that mother fucking swamp. But it’s a familiar swamp. I know how it reacts, and how to react to it. The type of pain that lays beneath its murky waters.
To seek wellness, wholeness is to embark upon uncharted territory? It is to walk a tightrope ten-thousand feet up over a chasm with no safety-net below…..