I have been angry. Simmering beneath the surface of my consciousness. A few days ago, maybe a week, it bubbled to the surface through a crack called resentment. I did not express my anger directly, I just had a "justified" resentment. Justified resentment I am pretty sure means I get to focus my own ire at someone else in the form of blaming. Hocus pocus, change the focus, get off me and onto someone else what is really going on inside my own head. In early recovery I read, "What about the justified resentments? We find they are best left to those more qualified to handle them."
Often I have described, when asked "how do you feel?", how my emotions run the full gamut every day. Mad, sad, glad, scared, up and down, sometimes even despair and hopeless. I cannot remember the last time I felt hopeless before Cancer. Physically vibrant, tired, sluggish, in action or sitting on my butt (laurels?)give me the variety (roller coaster?). Those answers to "how do you feel" may well be honest answers for most humans on any given day. For me, it has taken cancer to help me express and see the rest of what has always been there - emotions that seem not okay to feel. I learned as a kid that anger is not okay for anyone except my Dad. Not blaming him here, he got it from his dad, who got it from his dad, and his dad . . . a gift that keeps on giving.
I come from a line of men on one side who hit, throw, and verbally assault to deal with anger. The men I grew up with who did not throw or hit or cut with words? Well, they stuffed it. Down and in not up and out. When I stuff it, it percolates into passive agressive thinking and behavior, or it mutates into depression. The last time I hit was 1978. Wife #1. That is a pain on my soul I feel to this day. Since it was not okay to be angry as a kid, and it came out so ghoulishly as a young man, I learned to stuff it. Part of the function of my drug use and abuse for 26 years was to keep a lid on the slow simmer of emotions stuffed. Sad, scared, mad - stuffed.
So, now I have been in recovery for near 16 years. No drugs. A little better at expressing emotions instead of stuffing. I can cry fairly readily and say "I am sad." Even scared is within my verbal skills to express. But anger is still very awkward and often squeezed into a different costume.
I feel anger about this thing trying to grow inside me and grab what seems everything so dear to me. Anger at the medicine (solution?) that near incapacitates me several hours of every day. Drags me down much of the rest of my day - easily tire, I am not as sharp or quick mentally. EVERY day I wake knowing I get to take poison guaranteed to rule much of my day. It pisses me off that I also must see that same poison as "my friend"!
Of course I feel sad about the many changes in my life and my loved one's lives. The impact on Jacki is profoundly stressful and she too experiences an emotional roller coaster. The coaster mostly is not extreme up and down, it is just continuously there in the background. It wears. I know that she contains her swings to protect me and I contain my swings to protect her. Maybe neither of us needs that much protection. We must not just stuff it, because that takes too great a toll.
My sponsor said underneath this anger is fear, My first thought was that he was full of BS and that I fear very little about this whole scenario around having cancer. Now, as his laser eye spotted it, I recognize and see the fears. My kind of cancer cells are fatal and there exists no cure as of this moment in medical time. I fear what that will do to Jacki, my daughter and those close in my life. My Mom would be hit so hard by a 2nd child going before her.
I fear being laughed at for feeling and expressing such fear and anger. "There goes Bill again talking about the cancer." I am angry about not getting to work and earn and spike my income beyond what SS pays me. I resent the wobbly physical symptom I get every day when I cannot drive and stairs are difficult. What about my persona of being Bill G, the strong, kind, loving, even, solid guy who helps and sponsors and speaks inspirationally. I am still all that, AND I get to be human including angry amd afaid. I am even going to be pissed off if any comments come telling me to push it back down, get it together and suck it up!
Intellectually I understand that I am grieving: anger, denial, bargaining - what are the other two? I am going through them too. Throw in some massive amount of self centered - thinking about me and not even asking about you. Inside it feels like a big jumbled up mess, a quagmire that I mostly keep tucked in what I think is out of sight. Yet some of you see it. You ask and I give canned answers. I must let some this stuff out, vomit it out if I have to, because what I have been doing is too hard, too tough and too unrealistic of expectations on myself. And to cover the truth is distancing from you and too much work for me. So let's not tip toe through the tulips. Be a little more human and real about what this is like. Stop comparing me and mine to you and yours - it never comes out even.
God's gonna take care of all of this. Maybe after writing this, talking, praying, I can move into faith that His will is pretty good.
I'm gonna post this before I chicken out and start rationalizing it all away.
Bill
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
No Idea
I think last post I said we are tiling two rooms in our house. I had NO IDEA of the real amount of work and displacement that entailed. Our stuff, two rooms full of stuff, was outside on our back patio for 7 days. We had help moving stuff out and then moving it back in. We had help tearing up the old carpeting (dirty, nasty stuff carpet - it is good for holding dirt and . . . ). I did shop for tile by myself (saltillo tile) but had help moving it after the delivery, stacking it in convenient places for the help who actually laid the tile. Smear sticky stuff called thin set on the bare concrete floor, set each tile, keep the lines straight and each tile set the same depth. I was the gopher/supervisor/project manager.
Another day of grouting between the tiles, another day to apply three coats of gloss sealer, let it thoroughly dry. Another day to give it one more coat of gloss. Next day finally moving stuff indoors and unpacking boxes of small stuff. The next day it rained. Whew!!! Thank you God. The tile is beautiful, and it feels extra good to me because it is the first big project I have been part of since being diagnosed.
I got tired each morning after a couple hours working, took a break, work a little more. The feed everyone lunch, work a little more and then take my friend, the little white pill. Several days the was someone here I could trust while I chilled and dozed upstairs, and a couple days I just sent everybody home at `about 1:30.
Two mornings toward the end, I awoke before 5:30am and got moving, planning the workers day to make the most of the newcomer helpers we paid. Almost all involved were in our exctended cirle of recovering addicts. Several friends and sponsees volunteered and some we paid just because we could and they needed to earn. Sorry to go on and on about tiling a couple floors, but maybe it gives you a sense of the "going on and on" of the project. I had NO IDEA!!
Today Jacki and I attended two separate services for friends recently deceased. First of all, these fellow drug addicts died clean. At each gathering were about 100other clean addicts. I probably gave/received 200 hugs today. Doctors say we need 4hugs a day to stay healthy - my cancer's gonna be cured at this hugging rate. Sort of the 12 step version of "laying on of hands" healing.
One of the dead/passed/crossed over was a cancer victim - leukemia - after three years of chemo and radiation. I know she was worn out, tired and in such regular pain that it had to be a relief to finally go. Toward the end, she insisted on detoxing from all the pain killers doctors had her taking. She wanted to be clear headed, and then she touched many in those last few days. She was the one who soon after my diagnosis called me out of the blue and shared dealing with cancer experience. She related to my fear, sadness, anger, and even the gratitude for life lived so sweetly. She is the one who gave me the gift of knowing chemo is my friend. Thank you Andrea!
The other service was for my friend Bill. I love him still. His last initial was G, just like me. So in our recovery community there were two Bill G's. He and I called each other OBG - Other Bill G. When the initial news spread of his death, many thought it was me. He was a large, kind, gentle and loving man who was always amazed that so many cared for him. He leaves a legacy of love amongst us, and I miss him.
The thing about this death stuff is that I have no sense of mine being any nearer now than 10 months ago. Still no felt symptoms of the cancer, only of the chemo pill. I think mostly of life and living with so many who love me - far more than I realized BC. Today, I experienced two memorial services. Both were clean recovering addicts seeking spiritual growth. Their paths of seeking were from differing directions of belief and faith, but I say they were headed toward the same ending - a closer contact with God at the source of all the love we experience on this planet. Some call it heaven. That's where Bill and Andrea are now, and it is where I will go and you will go and we'll all have a meeting. See you there. Count on it!
OBG
Another day of grouting between the tiles, another day to apply three coats of gloss sealer, let it thoroughly dry. Another day to give it one more coat of gloss. Next day finally moving stuff indoors and unpacking boxes of small stuff. The next day it rained. Whew!!! Thank you God. The tile is beautiful, and it feels extra good to me because it is the first big project I have been part of since being diagnosed.
I got tired each morning after a couple hours working, took a break, work a little more. The feed everyone lunch, work a little more and then take my friend, the little white pill. Several days the was someone here I could trust while I chilled and dozed upstairs, and a couple days I just sent everybody home at `about 1:30.
Two mornings toward the end, I awoke before 5:30am and got moving, planning the workers day to make the most of the newcomer helpers we paid. Almost all involved were in our exctended cirle of recovering addicts. Several friends and sponsees volunteered and some we paid just because we could and they needed to earn. Sorry to go on and on about tiling a couple floors, but maybe it gives you a sense of the "going on and on" of the project. I had NO IDEA!!
Today Jacki and I attended two separate services for friends recently deceased. First of all, these fellow drug addicts died clean. At each gathering were about 100other clean addicts. I probably gave/received 200 hugs today. Doctors say we need 4hugs a day to stay healthy - my cancer's gonna be cured at this hugging rate. Sort of the 12 step version of "laying on of hands" healing.
One of the dead/passed/crossed over was a cancer victim - leukemia - after three years of chemo and radiation. I know she was worn out, tired and in such regular pain that it had to be a relief to finally go. Toward the end, she insisted on detoxing from all the pain killers doctors had her taking. She wanted to be clear headed, and then she touched many in those last few days. She was the one who soon after my diagnosis called me out of the blue and shared dealing with cancer experience. She related to my fear, sadness, anger, and even the gratitude for life lived so sweetly. She is the one who gave me the gift of knowing chemo is my friend. Thank you Andrea!
The other service was for my friend Bill. I love him still. His last initial was G, just like me. So in our recovery community there were two Bill G's. He and I called each other OBG - Other Bill G. When the initial news spread of his death, many thought it was me. He was a large, kind, gentle and loving man who was always amazed that so many cared for him. He leaves a legacy of love amongst us, and I miss him.
The thing about this death stuff is that I have no sense of mine being any nearer now than 10 months ago. Still no felt symptoms of the cancer, only of the chemo pill. I think mostly of life and living with so many who love me - far more than I realized BC. Today, I experienced two memorial services. Both were clean recovering addicts seeking spiritual growth. Their paths of seeking were from differing directions of belief and faith, but I say they were headed toward the same ending - a closer contact with God at the source of all the love we experience on this planet. Some call it heaven. That's where Bill and Andrea are now, and it is where I will go and you will go and we'll all have a meeting. See you there. Count on it!
OBG
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
During
I do not think I have blogged during my afternoon twilight zone funky period. Everyday I take the chemo pill and a few minutes later the effects start coming on. At this moment I am 40 minutes in so this is prime "peak" time.
Phone call, so now it is about 55 minutes in. The call ended 10 min ago but I forgot. My fingers don't want to type - they are slower than usual. My eyes feel like when you pull back on the skin around them wondering what you would look like with plastic surgery.. I wobbled when I got out of my chair a bit ago. It is not a good time to go upstairs and for sure I must not drive. My hand keeps going to my forehead to press firmly and push backward. It feels a little good to press and push back, but more it is more like necessary. In a few minutes I will need to get horizontal for awhile. I may or may not sleep, but horizontal is required.
That will take me about 2 or 2 1/2 hrs into it and then it is a gradual process of these minor symptoms decreasing over the next two hours so by about 5 p,m I will be able to drive, converse well and be ready to be active. Today I am transplanting some flowers and cacti.
Meanwhile our home is a wreck with stuff moved and stacked to clear our office for laying tile after the carpet damage. The tile was delivered today and I have help coming in the morning to put sealer on the tiles before laying tile on Saturday.
Last night I was at a men's recovery meeting. Several new guys shared "from the heart" about the huge mess they are in, which is fine, they need to get it out. We can all identify with making a mess of our lives. Many meetings go like that - new guys, then some more experienced guys maybe talking about problems but then solutions other than getting loaded or saying f**k this and running like we always did. Instead another new guy shared and went on and on. About ten minutes of pointless spewing about nothing specific. I kept waiting for someone to politely ask him to stop, "Your time is up."
We talk about sharing the message not the mess. I personally felt taken hostage. Other guys chance to share dwindled. So, finally, I spoke resectfully as I could asking him to, "stop, your time is up" I am known to do that, and I always wonder why me? Do other members really want to let someone go on and on about their mess? We ask at beginning of every meeting to "Please limit your sharing to 3 to 5 minutes." Do we not mean that? Are we still afraid to speak up for ourselves?
One of the very impressive aspects of a meeting for me has always been a subjective feeling seemingly "in the air". As I have studied our literature over the years, I have noticed a phraes in our books mentioned I think 12 times: "Atmosphere of Recovery." That is a treasure to me in my recovery. It is the respect of one addict sharing and all others in the room listening. It is the "sharing the time" of sharing so that most if not all in the room have a chance to talk and be listened to. Addicts just do not do that. Most often we are busy thinking about ourselves and listening to the chatter in our own heads.
That is a big why for having our meetings - most of an hour out of own heads and maybe hearing the message of how to stay clean and find a new way to live.
There, it is almost two hours since taking the pill, and I functioned well enough to write the above. Thanks for stepping out of your own head long enough to read. You ever step out of your own head and watch yourself think? It can be quite entertaining. Smile!
Bill
Phone call, so now it is about 55 minutes in. The call ended 10 min ago but I forgot. My fingers don't want to type - they are slower than usual. My eyes feel like when you pull back on the skin around them wondering what you would look like with plastic surgery.. I wobbled when I got out of my chair a bit ago. It is not a good time to go upstairs and for sure I must not drive. My hand keeps going to my forehead to press firmly and push backward. It feels a little good to press and push back, but more it is more like necessary. In a few minutes I will need to get horizontal for awhile. I may or may not sleep, but horizontal is required.
That will take me about 2 or 2 1/2 hrs into it and then it is a gradual process of these minor symptoms decreasing over the next two hours so by about 5 p,m I will be able to drive, converse well and be ready to be active. Today I am transplanting some flowers and cacti.
Meanwhile our home is a wreck with stuff moved and stacked to clear our office for laying tile after the carpet damage. The tile was delivered today and I have help coming in the morning to put sealer on the tiles before laying tile on Saturday.
Last night I was at a men's recovery meeting. Several new guys shared "from the heart" about the huge mess they are in, which is fine, they need to get it out. We can all identify with making a mess of our lives. Many meetings go like that - new guys, then some more experienced guys maybe talking about problems but then solutions other than getting loaded or saying f**k this and running like we always did. Instead another new guy shared and went on and on. About ten minutes of pointless spewing about nothing specific. I kept waiting for someone to politely ask him to stop, "Your time is up."
We talk about sharing the message not the mess. I personally felt taken hostage. Other guys chance to share dwindled. So, finally, I spoke resectfully as I could asking him to, "stop, your time is up" I am known to do that, and I always wonder why me? Do other members really want to let someone go on and on about their mess? We ask at beginning of every meeting to "Please limit your sharing to 3 to 5 minutes." Do we not mean that? Are we still afraid to speak up for ourselves?
One of the very impressive aspects of a meeting for me has always been a subjective feeling seemingly "in the air". As I have studied our literature over the years, I have noticed a phraes in our books mentioned I think 12 times: "Atmosphere of Recovery." That is a treasure to me in my recovery. It is the respect of one addict sharing and all others in the room listening. It is the "sharing the time" of sharing so that most if not all in the room have a chance to talk and be listened to. Addicts just do not do that. Most often we are busy thinking about ourselves and listening to the chatter in our own heads.
That is a big why for having our meetings - most of an hour out of own heads and maybe hearing the message of how to stay clean and find a new way to live.
There, it is almost two hours since taking the pill, and I functioned well enough to write the above. Thanks for stepping out of your own head long enough to read. You ever step out of your own head and watch yourself think? It can be quite entertaining. Smile!
Bill
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
