Angel From Montgomery

Waiting for P to get home so decided to log in again And.. well Rach, you pretty much hit the nail right on the head. Not so much the 12 step rooms but, being raised Catholic and not so much by my parents who were both nuts but nuns in school from 1st thru 8th grade and then on all thru highschool. Be thankful. Be very thankful. At the I went to in the very early 90s it was really hard core *** men who did not let anyone get away with anything. But, they would jump on people who would be like crying because their vacuum cleaner was broken.. or they missed a bus or some such sh it. They would literally yell across the room " get off the cross mary we need the wood!" Anyway, I knew I was going to ramble so that's why I'm reposting on my diary. lol. But, you are right. I do feel a tremendous amount of pressure to be good. And good means to suck it up at all costs. I was innundated with S***e like god loves a cheerful giver give it all you got etc. etc. All the while I was being terrorized at home by a weekend alcoholic father and weak absent mother. Lol. It is no wonder why I am stuck to little folding chairs in church basements all across New England and why I have to spend every waking hour on this d**n diary.. No, I really do not feel like I have ever really been heard Rach and it feels good to just frucking say it... gotta go make the dinner now. Thanks Rach, really... -joanxxxxx

hey Joan

im glad you logged back on again ....9.22am here ...

I think sometimes we need permission to not be good and still be accepted ..The courage to fail ..I think they call it..My stuff is about perfection and keeping up standards and appearances rather than being good and my diary a place I take my mask off like an actor taking off make up after a show.

I was raised Church of England and I guess Protestant ..just noticed the word Protest there lol ..

I was never religious or went to church other than school assembly stuff and it was never forced on me as my family were of the mind of choosing your own path.

I do know people who were brought up with very strict catholic teachings and they are givers to the fore and still continue to show goodness despite being terribly hurt themselves...

I hope that you know you dont have to be good in writing on your diary Joan...the good ,the bad and the ugly.

A lot of things I write my diary I don't actually act on and I mean the alter ego revengeful me ..the fact I can getting out here means i rarely act out on others in 3 d life. Thinking ugly thoughts I don't believe is bad but if I started acting on them rightly I'd be looking at big consequences.

As mentioned on our Shinys diary I like to know how people deal with their stuff on those sh*tty days as we are never taught that in school...never taught how to deal with life..so all the hurt and feelings of failure get stored up.I get a lot of help from reading how folks sort stuff out .

Don't keep it in Joan....Give yourself permission to let it out and know and trust that you will be always accepted by the people who love and care for you and you are not a bad person ....bad thoughts do not make a bad person lovely lady ....

I am always listening with my heart as much as I can and hopefully my flaws which are many come secondary ...

R and D xxx

So know what you mean, after growing wild in Australia I was sent to a convent in England (we are not catholic which is even more bizarre) age 11 to turn me into a 'young lady' and promptly got excluded for speaking my mind and asking the dreaded question 'why'. We also had a close friend who age 20 was 100% sure a thunderbolt would strike him dead if he misbehaved, maybe why I became so 'challenging' and 'naughty' which has remained with me through the years.

Think my wildness prior to going there was my saving grace as they found it hard to indoctrinate me and even at that age I could suss out the inconsistencies after finding the priests beer bottles under the stage.

Also my art teacher was a nun, a beautiful elderly french lady who I loved and who inspired me to go on to art school when everyone else had given up on me. She took life drawing classes at the local college and the nuns destroyed all her beautiful drawings as they were 'unclean' - sick minds methinks.

Sorry just meant to drop by with a wave but and all that popped out. Hope things are good for you and P, you are certainly offering so much to me when you offload so hope it is proving cathartic for you as well.

Off to see Leonard Cohen tonight - one geriatic watching another - all good stuff.

Wishes for the weekend.

xxx

Thanks Ade, Rach, and Rainbows! I'm still chuckling Rainbows and it's all your fault. Shame on you! lol.

Something I just jotted down on Rainbows thread that I wanted to put on mine as well because it is so how I am feeling at the moment. It is from a song/poem called Anthem I believe and was written by leonard cohen.

Ring the bells that still can ring

forget your perfect offering

There is a cr a ck in everything

that's how the light get's in

That is a gift for my heart today. My heart will never heal completely. Parts of it may be scarred with little feeling left. I am too aware of the parts of me that died to ever say with complete confidence that the past is in the past. If I dare to live as a whole person today I have to at least accept that my past will always be a part of me. I knew that recovering from gambling for me would be more than just counting how many days. As Rach says there are many many layers. The very top layer is me walking into a brick and mortar one day and winning. Ade posted a week or so back on the stages of gambling addiction and I can very much relate to all of it. But, addiction with a capital A is something that has been with me for years. I could probably ramble for hours but, I won't. All I can say today is that I knew recovery from this would wind up putting me right back on the front line. In the 1960's my uncles were being drafted into the Viet Nam war. My brothers and I were fighting in a war too. Today, I know that I still suffer from PTSD. I was a little country named joan once. My own little space in the vast scheme of things. Instead of keeping me safe my dad invaded me. Occupied me. Tried to draw his new boundary line on me. Made me both prisoner and warden within the walls of my own soul. I know the words.. the past is in the past. It is not an excuse but, a pretty d**n good explanation for why I do some of the things that I do. I'm scared all of the time. Worried pretty much all of the time. The times I am not, I am usually eating. stuffing....stuffing.... stuffing.. I have always been affraid of my anger. When I was painting I often painted images of volcanoes and tornadoes. My fat is my armor. I started donning it at about age 6. I knew and I know I am not gonna be popular saying this but, I knew at a very young age on some level that making myself un -feckable would keep the boys and men off of me. Since that time I might go from 0-60 fat then thin fat then thin up until about the mid 1990s. Fat, practically comatose and thin bordering on crminal. Today, I feel more like fat -SO? So what? I love being a crone because all of that hiding is mostly over. No longer a concern to be un f**k able because crone's earn that respectful right. The differenc is that now we have the power to choose. We are certainly feckable, can be fecked by choice, but choose not to be fecked with period! I know I know.. blah blah blabbidy blah. lol. The point is I no longer need all of this armor. It's too d**n heavy. The trap I am in currently is eating vs. gambling. I need to curb them both and it is driving me nuts!!! That's me today so far. Not stuck in the past but, honoring it. Maybe I need a ceremony. I think I should get a medal for what I have been through. Dare I say a purple heart? I don't want all of the vets coming down on me. I feel like I had survived a war is all I am saying. And I was gravely wounded. And, I was changed forever. And I cannot forget. And I try every day to be less affraid, less worried, less angry. Living in addiction in my mind is maybe like being haunted or worse posessed. Not an excuse. But, a pretty d**n good explanation. -joanxxxx

So, in response to myself a k.i.s.s.

Keep it simple silly.. or --

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex..

It takes a touch of genius-- and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.

-Albert Einstein

-joanxxx

Joan ..lovely lady you are so like me ..xx

Nope of course not ...i am angry as Shelley on the f an f side is leaving the forum and just read her post on Duncs diary and the other side ...

I'm gutted ...

R and D ...sleep well my cyber friend and ps..even if you gunned down half of the state I'd be on your side xx

Ps ...not sure of time difference but hope you got this before bed ...would hate for you to worry xxxxxx

You hit the nail on the head Judy, giving up gambling is like grieving. A roller coaster of emotions. Yet eventually you realise that you're grieving over a relationship which was cruel, isolating and controlling. Something that you loved but treated you with disdain in return. Sooner or later something hits home and that grinding sense of grief turns into relief and you can see, with clarity, the type if relationship gambling offered us.

Gambling and indeed comfort eating to excess is the sweetest way we can self harm, to kill ourselves emotionally. We deserve to treat ourselves better, we're not bad people, not deserving this pain. Yet it will happen if we allow it to continue. Instead we must focus upon and put our energies into getting better. To reach that elusive balance and inner calm. It's effortless to harm ones self whereas it takes determination to turn things around. I hope you find the strength Judy to rid yourself of this addiction and find an inner peace, there's no reason why you can't achieve this, all you got to keep doing is to try every day, like we all are and it's this effort which carries us forward.

Take care

Steve

Lol ....I'm exactly the same Joan...hehehe ...xxx...

A nightcap...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQXbhm2D05g&sns=em

I think this should be our anthem...plus homegrown Massachucttes talent xx

Joan.

Sometimes its hard to put in words how we feel, how we got to feel that way.

You put it all out there, my hope, you find peace from it, after every war there is a re building process.

For you it was a case of re arming.

Today i hope there is an ever lasting cease fire.

For you my lovely lady deserve that and more.

'yours is the earth and all that's in it'

Duncs stepping forward never back.

Hey Joan

I have been re reading your posts again without the distraction of a BBQ ....

I can relate to everything you have said ..especially the bit about being prisoner and warden to a parent and invaded ...

I too was my own little country and thats what I'm trying to claw back now ...

For me rage is my armour whereas with your self you say it is your weight,...but we are doing it for the same reasons as a way to say to the world "keep out " it's front line protection .

I would say that like me Joan you are an adult child ..and the big difference between adult children and people who come to addiction later in life is that for us it was ingrained from the beginning and we became reactive from day 1 to merely survive...

For us it really was life and death and that's why also war imagery and soldiers in war is also a very strong metaphor for me too as I was also traumatised from a young age and like the soldiers I am still fighting a reacting to an invisible enemy...

I also need to learn how to lay down my weapon of rage but I can't as I will be easy pickings for cleverer folk who can work my head.

I have never been interfered with in a physical way but my head..owww my head has felt totally fragmented ,splintered and traumatised and literally headfooooked ...this is why now to stay ahead of the game ..my head never switches off ..it's my vigilant guard on duty all the time ready to spot trouble.

like you Joan there will always be a wound that will never heal..the only thing I can do is try and negotiate around triggers and somehow try and desensitize myself to them.

I do understand that Joan and in many ways we are very similar ..the only difference i think is that we react differently to the same things.

R and D xxxxx

Thank you Rach and Duncs. My posts are not easy reads and I am not an easy person to walk along side of because I am constantly climbing fences and dodging bullets in my own mind.. Even in my sleep I keep one eye opened while shadow boxing in my dreams. I really appreciate your support.

Today I am still fighting. The warrior imagery really does help. I just realized that for months I have been trying to tell myself that my brother in arms-- my brother who I fought along side of for years really did not die. That somehow he has been with me. Guiding me thru my recovery. But, the truth is he is gone. I am still here. I survived but he did not. He fought until his body and mind just wore out. I have been trying to stuff my sorrow. Trying to hide the tears and the anger at the injustice of it all. We should have been together burying my mother along side of my father. But, instead we buried him. It's not right. Duncs wrote once that I was now wearing his dog tags and that really resonated with me at the time and now I know why. He's gone. And it is time that I accepted that. Is it possible that his soul is nearby? I would like to think so but, there are days when I think.. I don't know. I feel pretty alone Ed. So, now I am living with some survivor's guilt. And what is interesting is that when I really think about it I wonder --who's guilt am I carrying my mother's or mine? Why doesnt she carry her own guilt? Because she always had us to do everything for her. Somedays I am sick because I worry that I might secretly wish that she was the one who died. And because that is such an appalling shameful thought I should cover it up. If I stuff enough bbq potato chips down maybe noone will notice my filthy thoughts. Sitting and stuffing in front of the tv with one of Rachel's coat hangers lodged in my mouth. She was at the very least an accomplice and sometimes not always but sometimes when I am around her I feel like I have been slimed. I am ashamed of these thoughts but my hope is that if I get it out of me I will be better for it. Today the lights are on and I don't always like what I find sqatting in the corners of my mind but, that's the truth for you. -joanxxxx

Joan.

there are no words to write that will erase the things that leave those deep scars under the surface my dear friend, but there is from me an unconditional understanding why you have to cut them back open, they are infected, you have to get the poison out, through that i have one hope.

that they heal, yes there will be scars but through your relentless devotion to better your welfare, your quest to gift yourself recovery from the poison that is understandably so entrenched inside, i hope that your efforts rid the poison and gift you what you deserve.

there should be no guilt on your behalf my friend, we are not here to judge, we are here to find our lights guide.

right now yours comes attached to a scope.

keep aiming at that pile of sh#t that got dumped on your life.

fire at will.

Ed i believe in his presence, through his parting you have found more inner strength.

for that be proud.

me i am honoured to share our journey, warts and all.

its unconditional.

Duncs stepping forward never back.

http://youtu.be/W-vSfwIJkjY

just for you Joan.

He is an amazing man that at age 79 he can raise three standing ovations and get 20 thousand people singing along with him and a brilliant sense of humour as well.

I went on my own as can be truly myself then the idiot sat next to me started texting on his phone half way through so shame it wasn't you sat there instead as I am sure you would have loved the atmosphere. Missed the last train home and rescued by my ex so all a bit of an adventure.

You said before you used to sing and play, he sure uses this medium to express his feelings and as you express yourself so well on here I'm thinking you might write some protest songs at the very least.

That aside I think much of my mother's current problems come from the fact my father died before her own mother and although she cared for her to age 101 she never forgave her for that and like you say there is a mixture of guilt, anger and sadness at the shitola life sent her way.

As with you my weight has fluctuated and after being 'required' to be tiny when married I was determined to be accepted as a fat person but then found I didn't like myself but others did, so very confusing but need to lose it for health reasons now or in danger of sinking the ship as it were.

Rambling again but just wanted to let you know I am walking alongside you in the ether baseball bat in hand.

xxx