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A deliciously over-melodramatic reckoning.

So, I'm about to call the sponsor. See, I was running on pure self-will yesterday and ended up playing recluse almost all day. Besides not picking up my paycheck, this meant I didn't to my therapy appointment or meet with my sponsor. Nor did I let either person know I was breaking that commitment. I'm a grownup.

So anyways, calling the sponsor in a few minutes. {Hums a funeral march, maybe Chopin or Beethoven.} Of course it's not (likely to be) that serious. I "know" this. But you must realize the way my diseased little brain works.



See, in my mind, somewhere beyond the reach of reason, it is that serious. Everything is. People are pissed/disappointed/angry/resentful/disgusted/hurt by everything I do wrong, and according to my brain that's pretty much all I do.

Fun, yeah? Bleh.


See, you also gotta realize, it's rarely that conscious. Like, most of the time, I don't sit there actively telling myself how bad I've fucked up on every little thing and how much everyone's going to hold it against me. No, only on days like yesterday does that happen.

It's part of the nature of my anxiety--obsessive, subtle, antipathic. It seems I'm as tripped up by my own anxiety as I am by fear of my own anxiety. Anytime something needs to be done that could involve some uncomfortable measure of anxiety, I get scared and run from it instead of facing it. (Meta-anxiety? 0.o) I think it's some kind of control/self-will all on its own....


Now, I've come a long way since back at NYU (oh, that's another deliciously melodramatic story, too...), when I'd recluse-off from responsibility/assignments/class, and then wail/beg/plead for forgiveness--oh please, won't you take pity on my poor, damaged, crippled self!--and otherwise manipulate my way into pardons & extensions.

I was really grownup then...can ya tell?


One of the ways I'd do it was explaining everything down to the last detail of what happened and how it made me feel and turning that into some kind of excuse for why I didn't do whatever it was I was supposed to be doing. In fact, I'd typically over-explain everything always. As if, maybe just maybe, if they only understood, they'd see I wasn't to blame, it wasn't my fault....blah blah blah.

In growing up since then, I've worked (with the therapist I bailed on yesterday, hilariously enough) on all that. We worked on how to email professors when I missed class or needed an extension without inundating them with my life's ailments & story.


We also worked on a deceptively simple/seemingly simple process of "own it", "claim it", "let it go". I avoid owning my mistakes/doings, I don't like claiming it, and I'm usually loathe to let it go.

It might look like, at least in part:
Own It: Admitting I skipped out on my sponsor Friday; I felt bad about not working on my second step all week, as well as anxious about overdue loan payments I'd also put off, so when I slept in all morning I felt even guiltier and isolated.
Claim It: Calling my sponsor and telling him. Saying I'm sorry. If he asks for an explanation, I'll tell him as objectively as I can.
Let It Go: I do just that; I let it go. I've done my bit--I've owned my actions and told the concerned persons what happened--and from there whatever (emotional) response my sponsor has is his--not mine to worry & grieve myself over.

This is the really important part--the letting go. Some could compare it to the 3rd Step--which, to paraphrase, I do the footwork and turn the rest over to/let the god of my understanding do the rest. If my sponsor hates me and never wants to see me again (unlikely but it's  for the sakehypothetical), that's fine; it's his decision. I can feel bad for not being friends anymore, but I've at least tried to do what I could to make good on/be responsible about what I'd done.


This is tough for me. In fact, all of this--the nature of my anxiety, the difficulty trying to face it, the work I've done to learn to face it (and guilt for going back on my 'progress')--is why I go reclusive in the first place. My auto-reaction is to hide, to avoid. Trying to turn around and face this stuff is exactly part of the problem.

Yay circular anxiety!

But anyway, I should get on with that whole calling the sponsor thing. Yeah. More later, kiddies. Maybe I'll also write about the irony of this post--that I talk of how I've learned not to make monster explanations to excuse myself by making a monster explanation. Till then, ta ta.

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