foreign keyboard on husban’ds laptop. please read with patience. will write more when i get home. typed with abandon. typos everywhere.
lovely treat to meet sober people yesterday in London. oh so many similarities – we’re all functioning quite well in our lives except for this one thign… this one shitty thing. and yet, seeing faces, we realize that we’re not alone. we’re surrounded by love and support. it’s everywhere. we have to figure out how to ask for it, and how to let it in, but it’s there.
i did come away from teh meeting though a bit freaked out. when i hear things like ‘i’m in awe of what you’ve done for me’ it makes me feel very weird. like, where is the REAL professional in this field and when are they going to show up and take over/ ,,, you know how new moms say that for the first weeks of their child’s life they feel like the babysitter and they keep wondering when the real parents are going to come and take the child away.
i feel like that. i whined to mr. belle over hamburgers on portobello road: why isn’t there a psychologist doing this? why arent’ there10 or 20 sober social workers online – being honest about hteir own journeys and sharing stories of others? why, if i stop and ask 100 people on teh street where to go for help with too much booze, why is the only option AA that anyone can think of. why isnt’ there a range of choices, like there’s a range of people\?
again i woke up at 4 am last night, in this weird london bed staring at the ceiling, thinking there should be someone other than me with a sober challenge, being penpals to 270 people.
it’s not that it’s overwheming for me.
it’s that i feel unequipped to do enough. i can listen and cheerlead. imagine if i actualy knew what i was talking about@ or if i’d gone to school to do this…
i can’t even tell if i’m making sense, but i guess i’m having a case of the ‘holy god isn’t someone else really in charge and i’m just the temporary substitute.’
when C says how important i am to her, as we hug goodbye in the tube station, i think “shit, if she only knew that i’m just the same as her. i’m not special at all. not one bit. of course i listen to her. she’s dealign with exactly what i was (just) dealing with.”
i think there’s a name for this feeling. reluctant something. but sometimes it gives me a giant case of ‘oh boy, there’s gotta be someone else better at this than i am and when are they coming to take over’ combined with ‘time to pull up my big girl panties and get shit done’ – it’s both of those feeligs combined.
it’s very grey and rainy here. and cold. husband has gone to abbey road (again!), i’m inside. waiting. thinking. figuring things out. then we’re going on a magical bakery tour …