Ok, the move is tomorrow. Physically, I'm ready; boxes and packing wise, I'm pretty much ready. All bases have been covered, movers/truck acquired, service installation dates scheduled, belongings have been boxed up.
MENTALLY, however, I'm nowhere NEAR ready. I'm a mess, I feel completely overwhelmed and I feel like if I were a cat, I'd have my claws clinging to this apartment so hard I'd be drawing blood. I spent the afternoon with my mom yesterday and had some really deep, in depth, hardcore talking about where I'm at and what's going on and it felt good to hear her tell me that moving just sucks. That I'm not unique in being overwhelmed, that it's a stressful situation for anybody and that it's okay to feel what I'm feeling. That was incredibly validating because all week I've felt like there was something uniquely wrong with me, that I wasn't handling it or coping with this the "right" way. Which, when you look at my behaviors last week, I truly wasn't coping with anything, I was acting out in every way I could in an attempt to mask, hide, and cover up what I was really feeling. But the self-destructive behavior approach only works for so long before you start to cause enough damage to your life and yourself and your mental state where you have to blow the whistle on yourself and finally look at yourself and do an honest self-appraisal and then, God forbid since as addicts we want to do everything by ourselves, actually reach out for help. So that's what I've been doing this afternoon so far since I woke up. I've created an insular tiny protective small bubble of people I talk to and that has only hurt me because I used to have a wide list of people I'd check in with every day as a support network. It kept me talking, kept me connected, and helped me get outside my own head when talking to somebody and asking them how THEIR day was going instead of obsessing over whatever the fuck was wrong with me at that moment. I also have not been utilizing my sponsor in a way one should and I've been short-changing myself and our relationship all week by saying I'm fine, I'm great, everything's great! When in reality, I was a fucking mess all week, leading up to Saturday's self-mutilation stunt. Why the fuck would I have a sponsor if I'm not going to bare myself and my head and thoughts to him and be totally transparent? I can fake it and mask and hide to everybody else in my life if I want, but I feel that one should have at least ONE person in their life that they can become totally transparent too, be 100% honest with and present yourself just as you are to this person so that you not only can build a relationship with trust as a foundation, but so that you can open yourself up to solutions and wisdom and guidance from the other person, instead of relying on your own fucked up thinking to get out of the fucked up thinking that your own fucked up head thought things up in the first place. Did any of that make sense? I don't care it made sense to me. All I know is there are tools and people and principles available to me to apply to my life right now, especially when I'm gasping for air, and it's my responsibility to apply all those, because I have a choice if I want to face life on life's terms and cope in as healthy a way possible, or if I want to continue to pretend like everything's fine and I'm great but on the inside continue to drive myself further and further into being fucking insane. Because if I continue to pretend like I'm fine and great and everything's great and continue to mask what's really going on, it comes out in other ways; self-destructive ways, that can (and probably will) lead up to some stupid stunt that lands me back in Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital. I've already been there twice, and two times was enough thank you very fucking much.
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