Tuesday, May 7, 2013
I just want it to go away...
I had an experience last week that kicked my ass. My boss' boss came to town for his bi-annual visit (he's on the other coast) and in addition to his buying my team dinner (on the company of course) he had set up 1:1 time with each of us. Situation normal.
Except that I had spent some time on his coast a few weeks ago and, after a series of events, I mistakenly thought his visit to my coast would bring good news about my career. Instead it brought a great big kick in the ego that left me with hurt feelings and a really bad attitude. It wasn't so much what he said (I can be told no, I'm a big girl) but the way in which it was said. Condescending and rude are two of the words the hubs used after I relayed the conversation to him. I hadn't thought of it that way (because I was too busy thinking that the reason the conversation didn't go the way I wanted it to go was because of ME) but after some time - he was right. The guys was a real jerk about it.
Anyway, I came home in a very depressed and sour mood. I was trying very hard not to cry while still trying to "let myself feel the feelings" as we're told to do in recovery but all I could think was "I just want it to go away!"
THAT is exactly the feeling that used to send me running for the wine bottle. Running to numb the feelings and make them go away. Knowing full well that it wasn't going to solve anything but that, for a little while, I could escape into that isolated world where everything goes my way and I'm okay and everyone who doesn't think so is a jerk. What a spoiled brat I was.
I've been through a lot of feelings these last 41 months but I have never, in all that time, stepped back and seen that moment as clearly as I did then. It was a feeling that you'd do just about anything to stop feeling. I knew, intellectually, that I just had to sit with it and then sleep on it and it would go away; but that gnawing in my gut kept wanting me to make it go away. Force the issue. Just escape.
It was really fucking with my zen.
So I just sat in my big green chair and pouted. Then I did some yoga, tried to meditate (unsuccessfully) and finally just gave in and let myself feel like shit. I even indulged my inner prize fighter and let her beat up on me for a little while. Then I went to bed. And when I woke up I felt better. The feelings hadn't disappeared but they were at least manageable and in better focus. I could see them for what they were, not my perception of what they were. Wounded pride. Bruised ego. Disappointment. Anger. Frustration.
That's all. Big deal. They were not insurmountable. They were not going to kill me. They did not impact the kind of person I am and were not a result of anything I did or didn't do. They were not going to kill me.
And most importantly, they were not, under any circumstances, a reason to drink.