I am experiencing a bit of anxiety about how my life will look after all these changes I’m making. I am reminding myself that I am not in control of most things, but what I am in control of is myself. I have got to trust that good things will come, and are already coming. I have to trust that I will not fail (again).
I feel a bit ashamed and a bit broken and a bit unloveable. When I was addicted with no cares in the world, life actually felt happier than it does right now. It seems like I was so much more confident as an addictive person than I am now, as a recovering person. I have to reflect, though, on the nature of that confidence.
I think I’m too close right now to make a valid judgement on that (my old confidence), but I think it has to do with playing a role versus being authentically me. I am accepting that the authentic me – the one I am rediscovering after many years of bad habits – is deeply flawed and in need of a lot of assistance in this recovery process. I do see myself as a person who is worthy of recovery and worthy of living a full, healthy life. And to get there, I accept the fact that, well, I am not that person.
The mask has been pulled back. I did it myself, thank God, and didn’t wait for the world to do it for me. I didn’t wait for my life to go up in fucking flames. But I did wait a helluva long time, and I’ve had to admit that I have been lying to myself and to others about how “okay” I am. This realization makes it damn impossible to keep up the act of the fun, easygoing chick. Who was she? She was me, but she was hiding so much, I was hiding so much, from the world and from myself. The scary part is I don’t even know from *what* I was hiding, because I have been living this way for so long.
I’m scared to be in recovery and face whatever it is was underneath all the band aids. I remind myself it’s okay to be scared, and in fact I am brave for going through this extremely vulnerable soul-searching journey. I remind myself that life itself is about the journey, and not the destination. In remembering these things, I am able to feel the cool breeze on my skin. I am able to hear the birds. I smell tasty food. And I see joy around me, and beauty in the world. I think that this is really good, and I think that I should keep going.
So far, I’ve found codependency and addiction goes hand in hand, at least for me. Acknowledging that I am codependent led me to a place of self-love that I had not created for myself before, and in that space, I felt safe enough to admit that I am also an addict. I’m peeling back the layers like a goddamn onion (cries).