Fear of Snakes

"There's a huge rattlesnake stretched out across the path!" said the mountain biker this morning, riding back to the trailhead.

Fear can be helpful, but most of the time it's damaging. It can help by keeping people away from the bite of the rattlesnake but it can hurt by keeping people away from living their life. Fear deprived the rider of this trail at this time. By the time I got to his snake, it had already moved on.

The same fear has been true for me after my last relationship crash a couple of years ago. Fear of relationships had put a damper on my socializing and I had to force myself to join a support group, which helped but also prolonged my recovery.

That snake was in its element... its home. Respect it but let it go and go on with life. My own snakes have long gone to other trails after fresh targets.

It's taken me a long time to empty the trash, but I did. I sure hope I got all of it out of my head this time.

Reminder: don't play with snakes.



-© 2009 by Willy

Fright Night

My support group's moderator had an election night party last week, which, following that close to Halloween, was dubbed the Fright Night.

I am not a party person, but I looked forward to it and went. I was not surprised to find a huge variety of very entertaining people who were fighting or had fought some devil within. This is my second foray with this group... the first a dozen years ago... so I knew these folk and it was definitely not expected to be a meat market.

It's been obvious to me that I will continue to meet with this group, long term. Just like I understand the good in my core values, I also admit to my inability to deal with many people and the periodic conflict inherent there... for life. I accept myself unconditionally, where I am.

I am not unique, but just part of the population. Although I have cousins blessed with long and rewarding marriages, there are also those like me... that have escaped the surly bonds of endearment. What makes the difference is the same traits, philosophy and perhaps subjectiveness as to Why We're Here.

Cousin Carlos... saint Carlos... was able to deal with my mother in a way I could not. On the other hand, cousin Alberto was good to me but terrible with his own son and daughter.

I love good people but can't tolerate fools. In between these extremes is my problem. I'll never figure out people but I can live among them to a limited amount. I will continue to learn as a necessity and as a curiosity. People are now under my microscope.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Clarity

I realized a few years ago that I need better clarity.

My glasses must need a new prescription, because I hadn't been able to see things well... otherwise I wouldn't have gotten in the trouble I was in.

Then I thought that it was my thinking that was skewed... somehow or other, maybe my brain wasn't working properly.

Could it be, I thought, that it was just my hormones overriding my brain? Thinking with the little head, I heard my son once say.

Surely, this woman, who said she loved me, must be right... there was something wrong with me, she often said, in different ways, over and over again. I couldn't do anything right!

I came to the slow realization that it wasn't me. The problem was her! Oh, shit! She had moved in with me! I had given her a ring! And now what?

So, back to the beginning I went, realizing that I need better clarity all right. It was The Ex's glasses that were broken, and it was The Ex that wasn't thinking right. Her frequent accusations were really about her and her behavior... it was her that was shallow and self-centered, and it was her that just didn't care... she was just around for the free ride.

It was all about her, but I was the provider. I was doing her a disservice by providing, since she needed to stand up on her own two feet and take care of herself, and I needed the clarity obtained by being by myself. So, it took a long while, but provoked by her inviting men over, I asked her to leave and did us both a favor.

I'm sure she's found another provider since. However, I will never run the chance of getting another bitch again.

It's easy to see in hindsight.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Recovery

Recovery as in getting out of depression.

How do you finally quit the crying, climb out of that bowl you're in, get a move on, dare to come out of your shell, get back to the world, and get back to business? One way you could do this, in addition to seeing a psychologist, is to join a support group.

In your support group, you will learn that your recovery has to be selfish. Ask yourself what you need to do to take care of you. Create clarity for you, not for somebody else. There’s no need to explain yourself to others... Detach from others. Tell yourself that you're glad to be you. After all, it’s what you do to you that counts, so stand up on your own two feet and take care of yourself. Don’t give the other person power over you. And always make the choice that brings you peace and serenity.

And you will learn that recovery is a long journey.

By the grace of God go I.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Recovery

As in the road to recovery.

Recovery, from anything, is not quick. Think about however long it took me to get to my predicament (all my life?). Experts say that it will take about half that same amount to get recovered. I thought my own would be quick, but it hasn't been. They say it's the steadfast progress... the journey... that counts, not the perfection. This little ditty says it well (poem by Portia Nelson):

___________________

I walk down the street, and there is a deep hole in the pavement. I fall in. I am helpless. It isn't my fault. It takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the street, and there is a deep hole in the pavement. I pretend I don't see it and I fall in again. I can't believe I did it again. It isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the street, and there is a deep hole in the pavement. I see it there. I still fall in because it's a habit. But my eyes are open. I know where I am. It certainly is my fault. I get out immediately.

I walk down the street, and there is a deep hole in the pavement. I walk around it.

I walk down a different street.
___________________


Recovery has to be at my own pace... which has ended up being slow and in stages marked by light bulbs going off in my head accompanied by sounds of "Ahhhh."

By the grace of God go I.

- text other than poem © 2008 by Willy
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