Humility

I ran into an old friend the other day. One I hadn't seen in years. It was so good to see her, because she knew me when my husband was still alive, and had fond memories of me as a spiritually minded person. I've never thought of myself in that way, so it was very encouraging. Then she said something interesting to me. She said that when my husband died, I had a nervous breakdown. She said, "I know you, you weren't the same, and you were too proud to ask for help."

This spoke volumes to me, although I should not have been surprised. Right after his death I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, and as this blog will testify, my inability to ask for help is nothing new to me. Still, I never thought of myself as proud or having a nervous breakdown, just insecure and emotionally unstable in general.

I started thinking about pride. Right now, I'm really struggling with trusting in God to help me out of this mess I've gotten myself into. I've always just found my own way out, which is what has gotten me to where I am now. I think I've talked about my trust issues, due to abuse, before in this blog. The ones closest to me usually let me down, so I would just take on everything alone. It took a couple of years to learn how to trust my husband. So when my friend said, "and you were too proud to ask for help", my immediate reply was, "I didn't know how."

This is also about control, and the need to have control stems from pride. Right now, I feel like everything is out of control. This is insecurity. Proud people are insecure. We rely on our pride for security. Really though, nobody ever truly has control. We're deluding ourselves if we think we do. This is what Adam and Eve did. They wanted control. They didn't want God telling them what to do. If I keep trying to take control of my life, then I'm going against God's will for me. I have to learn how to give up control and to trust Him. You have to be humble to learn how to trust.

God gave me my husband to teach me. I trusted him, and didn't worry about giving him control of things, because I knew that even if he screwed up, he'd make things right, because he loved me. So does God, and he won't die or screw things up. Humble people know love - real love. Humble people have the strength to overcome their insecurities. I used to admire my husband's strength, and wish I could be more like him. He was not an insecure man. If I could learn to trust him, although being imperfect, then surely I can learn to "turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand Him."

The Hangover From Hell

A couple of Saturdays ago, my sister had a reception to celebrate her marriage [she eloped]. Caught up in all the festivities, I drank four glasses of wine. Granted, it was two more than I usually do, but it was over a period of seven or eight hours, which included dinner and dancing. I was sick for three days! Now, I did not stumble, vomit, pass out, or have memory blackout at any time during the evening. In fact, I can remember everything, and although I remember having a good time, I did not have enough fun to warrant a three day hangover. On Sunday, my brains sloshed so bad that I could not sit vertical without getting sick to my stomach. I was forced to remain horizontal for most of the day. Even on Wednesday, my eye lids still felt like lead balloons. To apply any pressure was painful. The worst part, though, was those day after voices that stab you all over with insecurities, telling you how stupid you are. I prayed that God help me to never drink again, because I well know that even though those voices are the most painful part, they are the easiest to forget.

The hard part is that I don't usually get sick like this when I drink, only every once in a while, and then I won't drink again for months, sometimes years. The last time this happened, I had kidney problems and went for about four months before having a drink again. It starts out slowly with only a drink or two socially, occasionally, maybe once every other week. It doesn't affect me, so after a while, I let my guard down; usually on a special occasion like this, where family comes in town, then we drink a couple of nights in a row, and I get sick. It causes my RA to flare up and joints to hurt, exasperates my chronic fatigue, screws up my kidneys, and drives my sugar levels crazy. The worst part is emotional, and what it does to my self esteem. It's obviously a problem.

So, I'm admitting that this problem has become unmanageable, and that I need God's help in avoiding alcohol.

Powerlessness

Powerlessness, discussion topic, side trip into step 4:

I am back to struggling with the First Step again!

It's pretty bad when I can't get past the first step. I guess I want to be powerful and in control, and I cannot be. I want to be. I want to make everything right. But I am not God, and my version of what is right is not universal, it is only mine.

I believe that when you decide to do something, when you make a commitment, then you do it the best you can and with all your heart. That's why you are careful about making commitments. (I admit, I am not always good at this--I tend to agree to things to quickly, to say yes, especially when hassled, without considering the ramifications of my choices. And to be eager about things in the beginning, until they lose their luster. Therefor, I should be patient with other people's failings. BUT I tend to be less patient with other people where I myself have a shortcoming!

Hmmm, now this little side trip into step FOUR:

side trip into step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. I am supposed to be taking MY OWN inventory, not someone else's! Moral inventory:

• I tend to agree to things to quickly, to say yes, especially when hassled, without considering the ramifications of my choices
• I tend to be eager about things in the beginning, until they lose their luster
• I have ADHD and tend to be easily distracted (or work so hard on one thing I ignore everything else to the detriment)
• I tend to be less patient with other people where I myself have a shortcoming!

OK, temporary end to side trip.)

Anyway, here's the problem. I'm very depressed today because of my continuing "resentments" (lack of patience and forgiveness, anger turned inward) about TB's latest practicing issues and HC's lack of stepping up to the plate. It turns out to be a very complex problem. Extremely amazingly complex. TB seems to to be having a crisis relating to doing his practicing (again). He says he's tired of it and bored with it and doesn't feel challenged. He'd rather lay around and do absolutely NOTHING or so ANYTHING ELSE at all rather than practicing. He has a recital coming up, his first solo recital, and he needs to practice in order to prepare for it and do it well. Well, that's my opinion. If TB (Track Boy) were an adult, that would be HIS ISSUE, not mine. But he is a child. And I am a parental figure. AYE, there's the rub. The beginning of the ultra complexity of the issue of powerlessness in my life today. First, there is the issue of parental authority and guidance in general. As a child grows, the parent slowly withdraws discipline and control AS THE CHILD EXHIBITS THE ABILITY to MAKE THE PROPER CHOICES HIMSELF! And, also as he ages toward adulthood, he takes on more of his own choices, even if they are WRONG. But WHERE to draw that line is often an issue. TB is NOT expressing the ability to make proper and wise choices and is not mature, wise, careful or thoughtful about his choices. He seems to consider ONLY the CURRENT moment (instant gratification of immediate desires) and not the outcomes of his choices. So at what point does one allow him to learn from his mistakes, to crash and burn and at what point does one step in and take control? I personally think he should study and practice at age 14 with regularity and discipline. If he can't provide the discipline, I think we, his parents, should. He's not 17 or 18, he's 14. He needs guidance and discipline in important areas. That's my belief, but it may be faulty. OK, so I have a premise that a 14-year-old boy, in this case, TB, requires parental guidance and discipline. Next question: WHO should provide that discipline? I have another premise. HC (Hiking companion, my husband) should be the primary source of guidance and discipline for TB. WHY? Because I am the step mother. I do not want to be placed in the position of being the WICKED step mother. I do not want to be perceived as "mean," although I think I already am, and this upsets and depresses me. I think it would work best for family dynamics if I provided love and support and mild guidance and discipline and HC took over the more difficult disciplinary actions. Another side trip into step 4:

moral inventory:

• I am not good at discipling myself or anyone else
• I HATE confrontation
• I hate arguments
• I want everyone to be happy
• I want the household to be peaceful
• AND I want people to do what they are committed to do (AND WHAT I THINK THEY SHOULD DO! But I shouldn't be taking THEIR inventory--except perhaps in the case of my child.)
• I want to be powerful, right, and good
  

end second side trip into step 4.

OK, so I have a belief and premise that our household would function better if HC would guide and discipline TB. I also believe that guidance, where ever possible, should be REGULAR, positive, and supportive, with heavy discipline being used only when absolutely necessary. I think it would be helpful for HC to engage with his son during piano practice for several reasons: 1)he is the biological parent an father, 2)he knows more about music that I do, 3)he spend very little time with TB. However, it is NOT my job to take HC's inventory and I am powerless over his behavior and choices.

AYE, there's the rub. The truth is, I am ANGRY at HC and at TB. I am angry that TB is not doing what I think he should do and I am angry at HC for not stepping up to the plate and resolving the problem. The outcome I want is this: that HC spends time with TB around his practicing, encouraging and engaging and interacting when needed and that TB gets re-engaged with his practicing at least through the end of this year and does well on his recital. Then HC and TB can hash out whether TB continues with the piano. Of course, I would like him to. But at this point, there has been so much stress around this whole issue and it is upsetting me so much, that I just want to leave. Leave the house during the evening so I don't have to deal with this, or leave the family entirely.

I am powerless over this whole affair and CLUELESS as to what to DO. I am seriously tempted to leave home every evening and return after both of them have gone to bed. It upsets me so much I don't even want to be in the same house. I don't know what to do. At this point, I feel as if there is nothing I CAN do.

The whole thing is further complicated by the fact that I wanted to adopt TB, but no one else seems to care at all. Or want that. I am supposed top treat him as my son, but legally, he is not my son and I have no legal say over him medically or in any other way. I cannot adopt him without cooperation and willingness from both HC and TB. HC needs to get a bunch of paperwork together (I've got all mine in order) or give me the info so I can, and TB has to agree to it now that he is 14. Sometimes I wonder why I even BOTHER trying. :-(

I am willing to sit and listen to TB practice and to encourage him and in fact I do go down and sit near him nearly every night. He used to like that, but now he mostly just uses me as a sounding board for his complaints. Which makes me want to leave--but NOT to go be with HC who is ignoring his "fatherly duties." If I am not going to be downstairs with TB or upstairs with HC, there is no where else to BE. (Should I cease to be?)

ABCDE approach:

A. Adversities: TB isn't doing his practicing regularly and is fighting it every day and HC is not stepping up to the plate to deal with this.

B: Beliefs: I am afraid TB will do badly at his recital and embarrass us and himself and cause trouble with Mrs. Lindow who is very nice. I believe he should stick to his commitment at least through the end of the piano year and hopefully longer.

C: Consequences: I am very depressed, upset, angry, resentful, worried, sad. I feel distant from TB and HC. I worry about the future of our family. I worry about the adoption never happening and no one even caring.

D: Disputations: (THIS IS THE HARD PART!!!) OK, HC works ten hours a day and is very tired and has a right to sit and read and do nothing considering how hard and long he works. My view and premises are only my OPINIONs and HC is entitled to HIS OPINIONs and his way of being a father, even if it is different than my idea and rubs me the wrong way. HC does occasionally engage with TB in exactly the way I wish he would more often. Perhaps that is enough. TB seems to love, value and cherish HC (Much more than he loves values and cherishes ME!!!!). Forgiving and forgetting are good qualities that I cherish. (I am still not feeling very forgiving at the moment and I worry that if I forgive and forget, all kinds of bad consequences will occur.) I made a commitment to love and cherish HC, through thick and thin and idiocy, so perhaps I should somehow bite the bullet and sit upstairs with him and bite my tongue and let the chips fall where they may. (That seems wrong, but he's the father. That won't help my worry or my depression, though, or my resentment! I need to get past the bitting my tongue and bullet part.) Maybe TB will do OK at his recital with less practicing. He does have a facility for it. Maybe my going out every night would be an actual working solution--I could get my exercise then or go do errands, and would have to deal with them both being bad. I'd prolly miss my story every night, and I'd miss time with HC, but I'd have less stress in my life. (But then, what's the point of being MARRIED and HAVING A FAMILY?) OK, so I still have no solution to my problem, so it is hard to go on to the E. part.)

E. ENERGIZE: I am supposed to take hope and solace from the disputations in step D, but I have no solution. I guess I can take some solace in that TB MIGHT still do well on his recital because he has a lot of talent. And that in a hundred years, no one will care about this problem. In fact, no one but me cares anyway. In the scope of world problems, it's pretty insignificant. But the fact that I am insignificant only adds to the weight of my depression and burdens, rather than lifting them. I guess if I were in a death camp, this problem would seem pretty insignificant. Or if I were dying of cancer or something, or drowning in the ocean or in a terrible car accident. If TB were dying of starvation because we didn't have enough food or wounded by shrapnel or something, this would seem pretty minor. I have actual work to do, so I want to make a molehill of this mountain and get to it. SIGH! :-( :-( :-(

I am still sad about it, though. The whole stepmother thing is very difficult and stressful and something HC doesn't seem to understand at all, or care about, or want to be supportive of me, my efforts and my concerns. I wonder if there is a step-parent support group and if I should check it out. Like I have time for that?

I am powerless over other people. I am powerless over their choices. My life is feeling unmanageable and I turn it all over NOW to a higher power! I believe I could be restored to sanity. I admit the nature of the wrongs and shortcomings mentioned above and am ready to have them removed. LOL! Go to it, God! (Please?)

Turning Things Over To A Higher Power

I've been trying to work on the third step. After falling apart emotionally when I failed again to get my taxes done, I decided that I'm not able to do this on my own. I need help from a higher Power to restore my sanity. I'm really having a difficult time with turning my life over to someone else, though. It's so hard to believe that there is a god that will direct my life in a way that will bring me happiness and peace of mind. I have this fear of being led down some difficult path of self denial with barely enough support to keep me from sinking into despair. Why do I view God this way? I know that's not what the Bible teaches. I've come to the conclusion that it's because that is all I've ever known.

All my life, I have pushed my feelings of hurt and anger down, because I understand why my family does the things they do to me, and I want to be bigger than the hurt and anger, so I can love and forgive them. I also understand that they don't understand me, don't seem capable of understanding me, and would never intentionally try to hurt me. But, they do hurt me, and pushing those feelings down has become like pushing a spring down. The more anger and hurt that I have to push down, the greater the tension on the spring.

Back in 2005, that spring broke. Feelings of anger and hurt went everywhere. They went into my joints, my kidneys, and my immune system forcing it to attack my own cells. It was about four years after my husband died. I was working two jobs, and taking care of my mother who had Alzheimer's. It was too much for me, so I went to my family for help. I remember telling my dad I couldn't do it anymore, I needed help. He thought I was over reacting. How hard can it be to give her medicine, and make an occasional call to a case worker?

Well, it was a lot more involved than that. I had to straighten out her finances [because she had gotten so confused about them before I took over], refinance her house, pay her bills, take her to doctors, get her groceries, and fight with Medicaid to get her in-home care. This was the easy part. The hard part was the phone calls at work when she was scared, angry, or confused, when she was messing with the hot water heater in the garage, and when she was bored and didn't want to wait for the aid to go for a walk. There was nothing I could do. My dad's suggestion was to give up my house, and move in with her, I guess so I wouldn't have to work two jobs. It didn't matter that I would have to give up everything that was my own. I was supposed to trust the family to take care of me. I didn't have a high paying career, or a wife and kid, so I was the most logical one to sacrifice among the siblings. "Just hang in there. You can do it. Your family will be there for you", he said.

I got help when it was convenient for them, but not enough to keep me from sinking into despair. One day I came home from work, and found my mother sitting in the dark, scared and confused. I had forgotten to pay the electric bill. I took her back to my house, and prepared the hide-a-bed downstairs for her, since she was unable to climb stairs because of her knees. I then went upstairs, and tied a plastic bag over my head. I had been so caught up in my own misery, that I had failed her. I knew no other way to get help. I figured that if I were dead, my family would be forced to get her proper care. The reason why I didn't die that night was because my roommate knocked on the door to tell me that my mother was trying to climb the stairs, and I was afraid of her falling. I pushed down my feelings one more time, so that I could keep her safe. I never got any answers, help, or relief. I just "hung in there". Not long after that, I started having pain in my joints, fatigue, and other health problems. I believe this is when my spring broke. Now, every little stress in life makes me ill.

In July of '05, I had to quit one of my jobs. I wasn't physically capable of holding two jobs anymore, and the new case worker discontinued my mother's in home care, so there would be no more visits from the aid for a couple of hours each day. My mother's cognitive abilities dramatically worsened after that, to the point where I felt it was no longer safe to leave her alone. I had to put her in a nursing home. I had no help in making this decision, or in finding a nursing home. There was no one who had spent enough time with her, to be of any help. It was just the two of us, the day she went in. The look on her face made every inch of my body ache. I felt like I had let her down. She was nowhere near as bad as the other people in this place. It took every ounce of energy to keep from crying, stuff the pain down, and be strong for her. I felt so alone.

In the spring of '06, I had to sell my mother's house. My dad hired lawyers to help, with the idea that he would get paid back upon it's sale. I spent months organizing paper work, meetings, and phone calls with banks, lawyers, mortgage companies, and title companies, so that my dad could get $25,000 from the sale for helping my mother out financially over the years, and my sister could get a house for a ridiculously cheap price. Then there were all the hoops to jump through for the nursing home and Medicaid. All I got was sicker. In the midst of all of this, I managed to get my mother's taxes done, but not my own. Again, I told my dad that this was too much for me, and he said, "don't worry, it'll all be over with soon."

Well, when that was over with, Social Security stopped sending my mother's checks, and her medical insurance discontinued her, because in spite of repeated attempts to get the address changed, they kept sending the bills to the wrong address. The nursing home was talking about eviction, and I was overwhelmed. My family thought I was over reacting, but by the end of '06, they finally started to see that my health was being affected, and that it wasn't just depression anymore [as if depression wasn't bad enough].

Early in '07, my sister arranged with her job to move back here and help me. She helped me with the medical insurance, and Social Security figured out their mistake, but again, I didn't get my taxes done, and this time I didn't get my mother's done either. By June of '07, my dad, because he was worried about my health, offered to pay for therapy, and to help me out financially with a set limit and the idea that I'd eventually pay him back.

By the end of '07, I decided to trust my family to be there for me. Because of problems with the people I was working for, and my uncle's illness, I decided to move out of my house and into my sister's. At the time, it felt like I was making the right decision. I spent January helping to take care of my uncle, and the last three months focusing on my therapy. I'm about to reach the limit that was set for me financially, so I don't have much time. I need to make the most of it, and these three months have been very helpful. It's not been enough, though. To make matters worse, last week after yoga, my sister wanted an accounting from me of what I've been doing for the last three months, because she feels like she's enabling me to be lazy and depressed. This is nothing new. I've always been treated like I'm weak and given to self pity. I can't ask for help without being judged, and they wonder why I don't ask. I feel, if she was sincerely interested in what I've been learning, she would have made an extra effort to spend time with me to hear about it. I usually hear from her when she needs someone to talk to.

I don't believe that I deserved to be treated like that, and told her so. She apologized, but she still doesn't understand, and probably isn't able to. I'm very uncomfortable with her help. Right now, I'm not strong enough to ignore her judgemental platitudes. I need to find another place to live, but don't make enough to support myself. There's a possibility that I could lose my home to the IRS, since I'm not living in it anymore, and I'm in debt up to my ears to my father with no possibilities of being able to pay him back. I think that I may have been wrong to rely on my family for help. I think it's unreasonable to expect me to be over what I've been through for the last seven years in just nine months of therapy. I don't know how I'm going to survive or make a better future for myself. I feel guilty for getting myself into this situation, and ineffectual for getting myself out. I need help.

The Wings Challenges that I've been working on are supposed to help me find a way within myself to make my hopes for the future a reality. I've been stuck on the fifth challenge which is to change something I'm uncomfortable with, like my inability to file my tax returns. So, I decided to pick another from my list, "my lack of spirituality", which goes along with working the third step. I'm supposed to list the actions I need to take to bring about this change. I listed pray and read the Bible. Next, I'm supposed to list my fears associated with these actions. Here's where I really had to think. What's stopping me from reading the Bible? I think I'm afraid of finding a bunch of judgemental platitudes exposing my weaknesses and how I fall short. Intellectually, I know that's not what the Bible is all about, and that God does not expect perfection. Why am I afraid to pray? I think it's because I feel hypocritical. I don't think I can be what I think He expects me to be, and so my heart is not in it. Again, intellectually I know that He's not like my family. He understands my limitations and knows my heart, so He would not be unreasonable in His expectations of me, yet I struggle with believing it. Finally, I'm supposed to write a positive scenario associated with these actions. I wrote that I would come to believe what I know about God, that He would help me to have the right heart, and that I would find the scriptures I would need to encourage me. My plan is to randomly open the Bible each morning, and read the first scripture my eyes were drawn to. Then each evening, write in my journal something positive associated with that scripture.

I started last Monday. Every day, the scriptures have been about "keep searching", rely on God, and be patient. Thursday, when I felt like I couldn't make it through the day, it was about how He gives us energy. Saturday's gave me the chills, and inspired me to write this post. "He that is walking with wise ones will become wise, but he that is having dealings with the stupid ones will fare badly." Prov. 13:20. What is He trying to tell me? When I went back to it, the Bible was open to Prov. 3:5 "... do not lean upon your own understanding." I feel like I need to get away from my family. Am I leaning on my own understanding? This third step is very complicated. In order to turn our lives over to Him, we have to come to understand Him.

Self Abuse

I am powerless over any kind of stimulant, and if taken in any form, my life will become unmanageable. I have known this to some degree, since I was 15 years old, so why would the first step be hard for me? Because, I did not understand why. I did not know I was an addict. I did not know you could get addicted to speed. I thought you had to stay high all the time, before you could get addicted to a drug, and speed was a drug you couldn't do all the time. You had to come down, and let your body rest.

I was 13 when I first started doing speed. I started with the usual black market caffeine pills, and quickly advanced to crystal meth. I think I was still 13 the first time I did "crank" [as we called it] intravenously. At the age of 15, I got strung out. I didn't know what "strung out" meant. A friend explained it to me in this way: "You can't get high for a couple of months. You have to let your body rest, or you won't get the rush anymore." She made it sound simple enough, but I couldn't imagine going two whole months without speed. Towards the end of the two months, I tried to commit suicide, and my parents had me hospitalized. I never connected the suicide attempt with the drugs, because I had been off of them for 2 months. All the anti drug movies shown to us in school made withdrawal look like something that could kill you, and I never went through anything like that. In the hospital, I was treated for depression. I was told I had a chemical imbalance that seem to run in the family, and put on antidepressants. Drug addiction was never discussed, so when I left the hospital, I knew that I could not do drugs anymore, but I believed it was because I had a chemical imbalance, and the drugs would make my depression worse. I struggled with the addiction for 3 more years, before I finally decided that this was not how I wanted to live my life, left the people that I was getting it from, and never went back. Still, I did not know that speed was addicting, or that I was an addict.

Later, in my twenties, I learned that speed was in fact addicting, but still didn't see myself as an addict. In my thirties, a therapist told me that I was an untreated addict, and would benefit from working the 12 steps. It seemed ridiculous to me at the time. How could I admit that I'm powerless over something I had quit when I was 18 years old? I obviously had enough power to quit. Since then, I began to notice that any kind of stimulant, even chocolate or decongestants, had the same effect as the speed. I could never get enough, my life would become very obviously unmanageable, and my depression would soar out of control. So, I am powerless, in that I can never do any kind of stimulant ever again.

I can't remember the last time I have had any stimulants, so I wondered how it was that I have been able to quit successfully. Is it because, unknowingly, I began working the the 12 steps in my own way back when I was 15, when I first admitted that speed was a problem, even though I didn't know why? Not long after quitting, I began to study the Bible with Jehovah's Witnesses. I also began to look into many other religions as well. I think that without the drugs, I must have instinctively began looking for a higher power. It was at that time, in my early twenties, that I came to believe there was definitely a higher power that could restore my sanity. I just didn't know why my sanity needed restoring.

I thought I was turning my life over to Him back then, but I realize now that I have never been successful with the third step. My therapy now is helping me to realize, that even though I know God is loving and forgiving, it's hard for me to see Him that way, when my picture of a father figure is demanding and controlling. I also have trouble with asking for forgiveness, when I've been unable to forgive myself, and thus feel unworthy of it. So, I've been working on forgiving myself, seeing myself as worthy of forgiveness, and letting go of the anger at myself for being so weak.

About a month ago, I began writing a book about my life, in an attempt to let go of the past. I have written about the first 15 years of my life. While writing it, memories of anger, that I had long forgotten about, came back to me. Anger that my body has been hanging onto, even though I had forgotten. It stirred up a hornet's nest of pain in my joints. I stopped writing, because I thought it was making my rheumatoid arthritis [RA] worse, but then I realized it wasn't the writing. It was because, for the first time, I started to see myself as an angry person. I had always seen myself as depressed, not angry, but depression is anger turned inward. This is how I learned that I need to be working on forgiving myself. Anger is a form of fear, so to forgive myself, I need to face the fears.

The past few days, I've been trying to face one of these fears, failure. I have failed for the past 3 years to get my mom's and my taxes done. I don't have the money to pay them, but I was determined to get them filed, and work out a payment plan. This has not been an easy step for me, because I've been so angry at myself for being so stupid about this, and this anger has literally frozen me in my tracks every time I try to do something about it. Not yesterday. I made up my mind, gathered my files, drove around town in search of free help, and waited in line for an hour. I was the last person they would take. They turned everyone else away. I sat down in front of the smiling elderly gentleman, pulled out my files, and couldn't find my 1099. Not only that, I couldn't find anything for my mom on 2007. I just started crying. I felt like such a fool. I apologized for wasting his time, and rushed out of there before I started bawling. I searched for these forms when I got home, but with no luck. I spent the rest of the day in bed. Skipped yoga. Didn't eat. Just cried and slept. Didn't eat this morning, either, which is not good for hypoglycemia. Didn't get out of bed until 10:30. A friend of mine came by to take me to lunch. I didn't want to go. I just can't seem to make myself eat when I get this depressed. She talked me into going by mentioning queso and Margaritas. The two worst things for me at the moment, cheese and alcohol [I think I mentioned before that dairy affects my RA]. I will really be hurting tomorrow. I failed again, and instead of turning to God for help, I beat myself up. I know He's been there guiding me, even though I don't ask for help. I think I really need to work on the third step.

Personal Post, The Third Step

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol/drugs/food/gambling/other people(etc)—that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

I have trouble with all these steps. I have to do them over and over. Today I admit I am powerless over food and addictive behaviors and time management and other people and their issues. I believe that the power of love, that a higher power, could restore me to sanity, even though I hate admitting that my behavior isn't sane.

*eating when I am not hungry is not sane
*eating foods I am allergic to is not sane
*eating foods that make me sick is not sane
*arguing with someone who doesn't listen is not sane

I have to remind myself of this, because I feel sane and lucid, and I feel in control until I look closely at my own behavior.

So, once again, I take steps one and two, and I hereby turn myself, my life, and my will over to a loving higher power--to love, goodness and God. Let me know the will of love and do as Jesus and/or Buddha would do. I hereby take step 3 yet again.

There is a saying or slogan around the 12-step rooms that says: "The first step is the only step anyone can work perfectly." I don't even think I can work the first step perfectly. I have to look really hard to say that I am powerless over food etc and that my life is unmanageable--and it gets even harder after that.