Well, it's been quite a week. Yes, I've allowed Angela to live. I'm sure you're all happy to know that. And I'm pretty sure you all knew that I would. Still frustrated, still fighting with her often, still trying to convince her that, yes, sometimes life is hard, but you got to do what you got to do, and if it requires you to work a little harder than you were hoping to have to.....ummm,sorry, we've all been there. You're just going to have to work that much harder. What really sucked is, this week is Missoula Children's Theatre, and yes, we did decide that she has been working very hard to try to get her grades up, and yes, she could do MCT. For crying out loud it only comes once a year! It was going to break my heart to have to tell her no and I'm not sure I could've done. So, obviously, that's not the part that sucks. When she came home yesterday evening I expected her to be in a rush to get fed to get back to rehearsals. She wasn't in a hurry at all. In fact, she'd already been to Wendy's with our friend, Holly, and her daughter (Angela's friend) Maggie, who she did the tryouts with and carpooled with last year as well. Turns out the reason Holly took them to Wendy's is she picked up two heartbroken little girls from tryouts. Neither of them got a part. I guess they had some very young, college age girls running the tryouts. They didn't pick most of the people who were in the play last year, even those, like my daughter, who had leading rolls last year. Being the stubborn, hard-headed child that she is, Angela made it a point to give them a piece of her mind, which as you know, can get pretty ugly. She wasn't happy because she said they laughed at her. I wasn't happy either, and when she told me some of the other very talented kids that didn't get parts (who I've worked with in the past volunteering at the school) who've ALWAYS gotten parts in the past, I was shocked. I told her not to worry to much about it, because obviously this particular group, unlike the group last year, doesn't know talent when they see it! I don't want to hear any talk about how I might be biased, but I'm going to tell you right now, that besides my own daughter, I know a few other very talented little girls who will not be in the MCT production here in Moscow this year. I also know of at least one, who will be, who I would've never picked in a million years...just sayin....and there I might be a bit biased too, because this little girl isn't very nice to my little girl :) Do you ever find that interesting, how you can absolutely despise an 11 year old child, because they don't like your kid? I distinctly remember the first time that I discovered that I have retractable claws and fangs that I have absolutely no control over. They instantly appear the moment I sense that one of my children is being threatened in any way!!! It didn't surprise me that I was very protective of them with adults that I sensed didn't like them, but the first time my five year old boy came from home from kindergarten in tears and I had an almostly overwhelming urge to kill another child with my bare hands (you will be happy that I reminded myself that I can't protect him from prison, so I resisted) I was in total shock! How does this happen?! All I have to say is if you're in my presence and you say anything derogatory about or towards one of my children, I am not responsible for what might happen to you! I have no control. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Now, onto another topic. Alcoholism! It continues to prove itself to me that I'm not cured and probably never will be. I still want to run for that bottle anytime I'm upset, stressed, angry, whatever. I've had a lot of stuff stirred up in me through reading Beth Moore's sister, Gay's, story on the LPM blog. She has helped me to see that alcoholism really is an incurable disease that I cannot control. Thankfully I know someOne who can :) Not that that keeps me from struggling. Between that, my own desire to seem genuine, the stress of moving, the loneliness of not having an accountability team where I'm at right now and not knowing how long it will take to get that established in Spokane, and just plain not having anyone safe to talk to about all this stuff one on one, plus Changes That Heal, plus Breaking Free, is stirring up so much pain from my life that I have not dealt with, that it is absolutely making me want to run straight for the bottle. Why that? Why not cheesecake? Why not ice cream? Why alcohol? Well, too be honest with you, as great as those things are, they just don't have the power to anesthetize the pain that alcohol does, and being a rule follower, I don't like to break the law, so illegal drugs are not an option. I want alcohol and I want it now. What's really making me mad is I have to walk to go get it. I don't have a car, and my husband's being a real pain, telling me I don't need it. What is up with that! And to be honest with you, some of the pain that's been stirring up, relates to him, too. He's ignored some things, chosen not to set boundaries, where I think he should. I feel unprotected and I feel my children are unprotected by him, so I'm a little irritated with him. For not understanding, even though I understand it's hard to understand me. It's hard even for other alcoholics to understand me. I'm kind of weird, you know. I'm more of afraid of getting caught than anything else. I don't want any of the people from AA or CR to see me with alcohol! I honestly don't care if I drink. I know that's terrible. I wish nobody cared. I wish I had never told anyone how much I love to drink so I could just drink and everybody would leave me alone. I feel like a fake, cause I've been dry, but not really sober. I want to drink. I want to throw in the towel and say who cares? I want to for so many reasons I can't share here! But I've been dry for 18 months outside of any recovery program. I don't have a counselor. I don't have a sponsor. I don't have any accountability partners. I've tried to establish those in the past, but no one's been consistent with me. I know one who would have been, but I don't think she really gets it. She's not an alcoholic, she didn't grow up in an abusive home, she has never, that I'm aware of, been physically or sexually abused. She has no idea what that's like. I need someone who has a clue about these things and is completely non-judgmental, totally accepting of me right where I'm at, and will love me no matter what. Even if I screw up sometimes. Even if I screw up a lot. Cause to be honest with you, telling me how I should feel or what I should think has not helped me. If I could do that, just instantly change how I think and how I feel without talking through things, I'd have done it a long time ago! I know God's Word. That's the frustrating thing. I'm in it daily! I've been in it fairly consistently all of my believing life, which is almost 17 years!!! What I'm wanting to do is have one last binge and then go to a meeting, cause then it feels real! Right now it doesn't feel real at all. Nothing about me feels real. I don't seem like a genuine alcoholic. I never drank enough, consistently enough. I don't feel like a real Christian, cause I'm obsessing over things I know are wrong. I don't even feel like a real abuse victim, because others have been abused much more violently than I have. So, my parents said some mean things to me and they didn't give me the love I needed. They didn't listen to me or care how I felt. Yeah, my dad hit me sometimes, but never with a closed fists and never left a mark on me. At least not that I ever noticed. I was kinda trying to hard to avoid him and just about everyone else who might hurt me, to notice. And yeah, I was sexually assaulted, but I was never all out raped. What am I whining about anyway. Get over it, Shellie. It's not that bad....and yet, that doesn't work for me. I hurt. I feel neglected. I feel abused. I'm scared of people. I'm afraid that they're going to tell me my parents were right. I am hopeless. I am stupid. I can't do anything right. And I've sort of gotten that, maybe not in those exact words, from people who were supposed to help me. People who were supposed to love me. That I can't really have a relationship with God and know what I'm hearing from Him, because I'm not smart enough. I can't know my own heart, cause I'm not smart enough, so I can't possibly know what He's calling me to do. I can't know these things for myself. I need others to tell me what to do. I need to stop caring what I do or what kind of things I'm interested in. I'm not supposed to have interests. I'm not supposed to have desires for my own life. I'm supposed to stay home and only care for my family and do what my husband tells me to do. And, oh, my gosh, how dare he suggest I think about what I want! I'm not supposed to want anything! I'm not supposed to be my own person! I feel guilty for liking to write. I feel guilty for wanting friends. I feel guilty for wanting help! Why should I feel guilty about these things? Because others have told me they're sins. Others have told me I can't have desires apart from caring for my family. Others have told me I don't deserve better. After all, I deserve what Jesus got, and I get that, but I NEED more than that. And I think God understands that, which is why he let Jesus take my punishment so I wouldn't have to. So, all I'm asking is that people quit hurting me. I'm tired of being hurt. Is that too much to ask? I wish somebody would just hug me and tell me it's okay to hurt, that it's okay to cry and let me cry on their shoulder, maybe, just a little. And tell me that they're sorry that all that stuff happened to me, instead of just telling me to get over it. If I could I would, but it's not that simple. Very few people seem to understand that and they're not in a place where they're able to spend time with me and help me. Also, I know that I have this anxiety issue that causes me to choke up and not be able to speak. I'm terrified of people. I'm terrified to tell them of my pain. To be really real with them. I'm not sure I can, but I need to. And I need someone who understands that too, someone who has the time and the patience to sit there and wait until I figure out what words I can used to describe what I'm going through, and wait also, for me to get up the nerve to say what's going through my head, out loud. That's going to take a very patient person. I'm not sure such a person exists. Cause I'm scared of all of you. I may not seem like it in person, but notice how personal, how real I get with you? Not very. I'm scared how you'll react to the real me when I'm right in front of you.