I’ve had so many day 3 I can’t even tell you. Someday there will be a last day 3, it’s too soon to tell if this is the one. I have to just take everything one second, one minute, one hour, one day, one week at a time. All I think about is using. I wish I could take a pill to get rid of those urges, but isn’t that the problem in the first place? Just wanting to take a “pill” of some kind to fix my problems? Facing this thing head on is really hard, and I feel like I have so many eyes on me all the time. My aunt and uncle, I know, don’t trust that this will be the last time. They had never quite seen the severity of my problem until the day I made my first post and ever since then I feel like a charity case, like they are constantly surveilling me. “Can I go to a meeting with you?” “We are here for you.” “How are you feeling today?”
How am I supposed to answer those questions? “My meeting leader said it’s best to come alone.” (No, you can’t come to a meeting with me. We’re all our most honest selves when our families AREN’T around. Family trauma is partially why I’m in this position in the first place!) “I know, thank you.” (I know you’re here for me, but I feel smothered. I feel infantilized.) “I feel fine.” (Today I feel like I want to use, and it’s the only thing I can think about. You constantly checking in on me makes me feel worse, makes me feel like I can’t even trust myself. Like you can’t trust me. I feel like I need to move out of this house for my sanity. I feel like I’m grasping at straws to find any semblance of independence.) “I feel totally fine.”
I need people in my corner, absolutely. That fact I will never deny. There are certain types of people, however, that are far more... I don’t want to say valuable but I will say valuable to my journey than my aunt and uncle. They would never want to hear that, and of course I’m never going to tell them because they have the best of intentions but really, they have NO clue what I’m going through. They have NO clue what kind of trauma I’ve dealt with in my life. They know, to some extent, the trauma that my immediate family put me through. The divorce, the step parents, my brother’s physical and emotional abuse towards me. I tried to open up the other day about the other non-familial traumas that I’ve been through and it was clear immediately they didn’t know how to handle that. This is what I’ve been trying to tell them. They constantly ask “how can I help you?” I DON’T KNOW. I’m in a constant state of grieving and that is not something a grieving person can answer. I don’t know how you can help me because you guys don’t understand. You have everything. You have each other, beautiful children, multiple homes, cars, stability, a healthy relationship with food and alcohol, never done drugs, little to no debilitating trauma. I don’t know how you can help.
I need people like me in my corner. I know it sounds counterintuitive, like the blind leading the blind but that’s the truth of the situation. That’s the only way I’ll make it through. In group therapy we like to think of it as creating a chain. Everyday we extend (virtually) a hand to the next “sister” (I don’t love that that’s the phrasing this group uses because I think it is a bit cis normative but whatever I will overlook that for now) to promise another 24 hours of sobriety. We hold each other accountable, and when we do it it feels more supportive than accusatory or shameful. That’s the vast difference in the way “Help” feels from them and my family, because my sisters know. They understand. We can connect on a level that even those who have known me my whole life will never understand.
