Why am I just not “getting” it?!?!?

I write about this a lot, but it’s so important, so, here it is again.

You know this relationship is no good for you, and you know you shouldn’t keep calling him. Your brain gets it. By why don’t you stop? Why can you understand something on an intellectual level but not follow through and make intellectual decisions about it?

Well, here’s my take.

You have two brains (actually three, but we’re only going to focus on two): your logical (adult) brain and your emotional (child within) brain. The part of you that does not operate on an  intellectual level is your emotional brain. It is the animal in you, or more euphemistically, the child within you. Your emotions think and feel with no rhyme or reason, and when you’re healthy, your emotions tend to be balanced and not too demanding. The child is satisfied. And so you begin to trust them, listen to them, ignore them when necessary, or allow them to guide SOME (not all) of the decisions you make in your life, all the while using your head as well.

When you’re a love addict, however, you are guided by your emotional brain. And that wouldn’t exactly be a problem, except that  your emotions are pure chaos. Untrained emotions, running rampant, demanding immediate gratification are not the best guide when it comes to managing your life. They can’t be trusted. They tend to lead you down paths that are fine if you’re a toddler (insert hand in dog’s mouth; cry, kick and scream for attention; spit food out if you don’t like it, etc.), but, as an adult, they lead you down a rather frustrating,  inappropriate path. Why? Because your emotions, though once designed to help you survive in the wild and become human have really become obsolete except when used for purposes of instinct. Psychology Today, in fact, writes that, “The old fight-or-flight system is inadequate to the modern threats. You can fight a tiger; but you have to work hard, for a long time, to fight a financial crisis or the threat of terrorism.” How does that apply to you incessantly calling a man who doesn’t treat you well or love you back the way you’d like to be loved? Well,  your emotional brain perceived your situation as a threat and so, you try to deal with that threat on a rather animalistic level. To obsess over it. To chase. To hunt.  Your emotional brain forces you to kick and scream and demand IMMEDIATE GRATIFICATION (I’m hungry; I need food), but, your logical brain pulls you back, or at least allows you to be aware that this doesn’t make sense, or that it’s wrong. Rationally you know your PoA is no good, and rationally, you know your behavior (obsessing over someone) is futile, but your emotions don’t care. They are greedy, hungry and want to be fed.

My suggestion: begin to listen to the two “dictators” inside you. Allow your logical brain (the adult in you) the opportunity to take the lead every once in a while. That means following a logical path and listening to reason from time to time (today, I’m choosing to not call him because, let’s be honest, he doesn’t call me). Also, pay close attention to when your emotional brain (the child in you) takes over, or makes decisions for you (reaching out to a PoA when you “know” it’s not a good idea.) When you are able to see and feel the distinctly different decision-makers inside you, you have a better chance at allocating which one gets to make the decisions and which one doesn’t. And here’s the deal: the more you exercise your logical brain, the stronger it gets! That being said, in early recovery you want to bring yourself to a point where your logical brain is making more than 70% of the decisions. Why not 50/50? Well, if you’re anything like me, when you are in love addict mode you are completely off balance, ruled by emotions. In order to bring the balance back you have to tip the scales in the opposite direction for a while. Your logical brain will guide you to safety. Eventually, when you are in a healthy place, you can give your emotional brain a little of her power back. But by then, hopefully she will have calmed down :)

 

Dream home or love shack? What does your “house” look like?

This is the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

-Mother Goose

The House that Jack Built is a cute little child’s nursery rhyme. But to me, it is a fabulous allegory for a rather chaotic house. Not to mention a great way to bring to light the idea that our houses are actually WHO WE ARE. And what we place in our houses, what we build our houses upon and who we invite into our houses are all representative of who we are and what we have control over. So… I want you to do this little exercise in visualization today. It has helped me immensely, to remove negative, anxious thoughts from my brain and remember that my head and my heart are my house and I am in control of what I let it. I hope it helps you too, to remove obsessive thoughts of the PoA or to realise who you might be letting in and who might want to keep out.

Let’s start…

Imagine your perfect home (and let’s face it, love addicts are GREAT at imagining things that don’t exist!). It can be your all-year-round home, or your vacation property. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you decorate it in the fashion you love best.

Pay attention to every detail.  What paintings or objects will you hang on the wall? WHat will the floors look like? The kitchen? The living room? What style makes you happiest? Is your sofa a plush, comfy leather sofa that you can curl up on?  Or is it a soft, pillowy sofa that you can sink into? What does your backyard look like? Is there a pool? A lawn?  A garden?

Is your home in the mountains? By the sea? In Paris? Overlooking a lake? On the beach? Where in the world is your house?

Remember, you are working on your house all by yourself. No one is able to add any input here. It’s all you. YOU have complete control. And, since YOU ALONE have created this house, it is a SACRED PLACE,  a reflection of who you are and what you desire the most. So, it should be totally acceptable and comfortable to you and filled with things that not only make you happy, but make you feel alive. Is there a yoga studio in your home? A sauna or a spa? Can you ride horses? Lounge by a pool? Is there an element of spirituality in your home? What is it? A special room to meditate?  What books do you have on your shelves? What music is playing throughout the house?

Once you have created your home, imagine how long it might have taken you do so. Did you find this home through a realtor? Or did you build it from scratch? How much time did it take you to find the right fabric, the right furniture? The right location? The right building materials? The right plumbing? Remember…YOU and only you are in charge of every detail. And while this may seem overwhelming, the end result is that you get everything your way. And you have a place that amazes you and brings you great joy.

Now, imagine your house is finally just as you like it, and you are enjoying your house, doing what you love, and a knock comes at the door. It’s your PoA. And while you are happy to see him, he (or she) comes in and starts doing what he does best…avoiding you, cheating on you, calling you ugly and fat, telling you he doesn’t love you, or conversely, telling you he loves you but then not following through with loving actions, thus, confusing you, and generally DISTURBING THE PEACE THAT YOU HAVE BUILT AROUND YOU.

He also walks around your house with muddy shoes, tells you you made a mistake by spending so much money, tells you he doesn’t like the style of your house and then leaves, slamming the door and trampling over the flowers in your garden.

End of fantasy.

Now, the reality…

The house you built all your life is the YOU you’ve built all your life.  It  is your heart. It is your brain. It is your spirit. It is essentially YOU. In reality, how did you build your “house”? Does it match up to the fantasy version you just created? Who do you let into your house ( into your heart?) WHo do you allow to occupy your time (in  your brain?)? Do you allow anybody into your house? Do you allow people to walk through your house with muddy shoes? Do you allow people in who do not appreciate or at least respect the work and the beauty you built into your house?

Is it a shack or a dream house?

Start to assess who you are as if YOU were a house. Do you need to tear down the old house and rebuild with better materials? Do you even have the materials to build a solid house? If not, where can you get those materials? That might mean educating yourself, learning what dignity means, learning self-control, letting go of fear, learning to love yourself or learning how to be nice to others. Knowledge about healthy living is one of many tools and building materials you need to build well.

What was the foundation built upon? Maybe it’s time to repour the concrete and make a more solid foundation. Are you renting your house out to others? Who’s in there? Why aren’t YOU in possession of your own home? How do others perceive your “house”? Do they think it looks run down? ramshackle? Built with straw? Maybe even built with iron gates and no windows? Do others feel comfortable enough to visit your house? How could you make it more comfortable? What does that entail? The more questions you ask yourself, the more this exercise brings to light a truth about who you are and what you could become if you just take the time to build it.

 

 

 

Addicted to Paris

ParisAt 10pm tonight I am hopping on a plane with my two sons and flying off to Paris amid airline strikes and rail strikes and increased taxation on tourists and god knows what else. Red flags galore. But, oh, my heart! And all I can think of is, get me there as fast as you can before I explode.

I lived in Paris in 1989, when I was 21-years-old and a full-fledged love addict. Nothing meant anything to me back then if I didn’t have a man, except the city of lights. I stayed there about 5 months studying French at the Alliance Francaise and working as an au pair,  and while I did fall in love, it was more with the city and the Parisian culture than with any one man. After I ran out of money though, and my mother forced me on a plane back home, I carried a torch for France for many, many, many years, and was never able to go back until 2011 when I was flown out to Amsterdam for the IDFA Film festival for my role in the Love Addict documentary. That I am able to go back again so soon is a miracle. Or rather, more likely, my addiction kicking in, which leads me to confess that I may have been wrong all these years– we are never fully “cured” of our love addiction.

I remember a woman on the forums a while ago who was addicted to a famous dead poet or writer. She couldn’t stop fantacizing about this “imaginary” man, and as odd at it seemed to me at the time, I realized I had had the same fascination with a city. I mourned the loss of Paris just like any other PoA. I felt abandoned, lost, miserable. I felt it was an unrequited love. But I couldn’t really put my finger on who gave up on who. Did Paris give up on me, or did I give up on Paris? I went into a very deep depression for a couple years after this and never fully recovered. Nor did I muster the strength or courage to get back. I allowed other dreams to get in the way.

And yet I didn’t. I remember back in 1993 I was poised to marry an American who was deeply in love with me. I was more in love with the idea that he loved me. And so, when I posed the question, “would you be OK if we tried to move to Paris for a while?” and his response was a resounding No, I tweaked the course of our lives forever and left him. Only after  I had bought the white dress and put a down payment on the catering hall, of course. A small price to pay in order to get my “dream” back.

But as the years went by, my dream soon faded. And Paris became more of a memory, then a recollection, and lastly, a regret. I could have gone back. I should have gone back. Why didn’t I go back?

When I touched down on French soil in 2011, D was with me. I could barely catch my breath. He had to hold my hand tightly. We exited the Gare du Nord, caught the Metro and came up and out of the ground under a starry sky. The amber glow of night-time Paris is indeed why it is known as the City of Lights. And as I stood, basking in the frenetic blaze  between the rue de Rivoli and the Tuileries garden, I burst into tears. It was all too much. It was too good to be true. And it is what every love addict dreams of. The moment they are not only reunited with their love, but that that love is reciprocated. Paris hadn’t forgotten me. She welcomed me back as if no time had passed between us and she was every bit the lover I had waited for all those years.

And yet, she was gone in an instant. Once again out of reach when I flew back home and back to reality. A new but  familiar ache to take her place. Being in Paris after all those years was glorious. And yet, what was it? Eating cake fulfills momentarily. It takes the edge off, temporarily. Until you can find that next big hit.

 

In less than 24 hours, I will get it. Another whopping hit. And possibly another. Just last night in fact, we met our new neighbors, one of whom is an artist who travels to Paris twice a year for trade shows. We clicked over wine and good conversation and she’s already put out the invitation to join her on one of her trips. But will it be enough? Is love ever enough? As a recovering addict who has learned a thing or two, I know it’s not.  I know that love, all by itself, is a rickety chair with wobbly legs–whether it be love for a man, woman, bottle, country, city or a dead poet. Love needs substance. It needs the fortification of rationality and purpose. And it needs to come from both ends. I can’t keep taking from Paris like a love sick succubus. Perhaps, I need to give back to make this romance work.

For now, I plan to teeter on that chair and see what I can see without toppling over. When I get back, however, I need to reassess if I can turn this achy addiction for Paris into something a little more meatier, healthier. Perhaps I could return to school and take french lessons. Perhaps I could try to see if my company wants to market our product there. Perhaps I could write about my travels for a travel blog or magazine. Whatever the case, my addiction for Paris is another hurdle I need to learn how to deal with or overcome or succumb to. Sure, I could be content to travel there on vacation from time to time. Like a normal human being. Take my stroll around the Eiffel Tower, have my cafe au lait and be done with it. Or can I? Addicts can’t really be content with just one little drag off the cigarette, one hit from their PoA. We sometimes just can’t be normal. We need to burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars, as Jack Kerouac wrote in On the Road.  And for that, addiction is tricky. It can make life seem, at once, intoxicating and tragic.

But let’s not go there. Tomorrow morning,  I reunite with an old love. Let me bask in the euphoria of my temporary insanity. Just for a moment. 

A bientôt!

Socially acceptable addictions

So, I made my re-entry back into the world of coffee without much of a glitch, save a bit of shame for being such a hypocrite, telling the world I would never drink “the crap” again. I had originally quit because of headaches and a near-complete dependence on the stuff, a la a pure substance abuse. I couldn’t wake up without it. I couldn’t get through my day without a second hit. And I didn’t feel a part of American culture if, like everyone else, I couldn’t have a tall soy latte in my hand while coursing my way through an intersection.

But hey, I made it an entire month without it, and felt pretty good, despite some migraines the first week, for which I needed to see a doctor.  I substituted with green Kombucha tea, Yerba Mate and red rooibos–all of which did weird things to me. But, soon enough, I felt cleansed, unpolluted, alert, and mostly, free from the shackles or addiction and of course, the ritual of having to hunt down a Starbuck’s at 3:30pm, no matter where I was, so as to recharge and make me feel part of the human race again. But my digestive tract had become so dependent on the caffeine (from roughly 300 mgs per day down to about 25 mgs or less) that for the entire month, horribly unmentionable things were happening to me. OK, I’ll mention them: burping, belching, farting, constipation, IBS and so on.

But here’s the hitch. Without my daily caffeine fix, I craved bad foods.  Usually my diet is very healthy: slow-cooked oats for breakfast, salad for lunch, chicken, veggies and a starch for dinner. Every once in a while  I’d have a sweet. But when I stopped drinking coffee, there was that nagging toxic sensation of needing to “fill the void” well known to love addicts, and so…as if I had this Get Out of Jail Free card I started eating mountains of burgers, fries, potato chips (something I NEVER eat), cookies, and other junk. It’s as if there was this yin and yang within me…pulling at me to do something bad to counteract all the good I was accomplishing. I mean, let’s be honest. There’s only so much green tea and Andrew Weil a girl can take, you know. I was too cleansed, too pure, too unpolluted. Not to mention all my friends were on my case, insisting that I needed at least one vice. “Live a little,” they said. As if drinking coffee, and vices in general are the mark of a satisfying life.

Sheesh.

But, in a way, they’re right. Unless we are holed up in a monastery at the top of a mountain in Nepal with virtually no human contact, we need to experience the world in all its divine and no so divine glory. And we’re talking coffee. Occasional sweets. A shopping spree here and there. The lighter side of addiction that doesn’t rob you completely of your soul. As addicting as it is, a cup of coffee in the morning is something I can live with. Coffee, I suppose,  keeps the bad girl in me alive. It keeps me a little sullied, a little uninhibited, a little wild, without stripping me of my dignity and my values.

My sis-in-law was over last night and we were discussing the documentary “Babies.” She was saying that too much care can cause an individual to weaken. Too much hand sanitizer, for example, can keep us over-protected from being able to build up an immunity to viruses and bacteria. In that sense, I’d like to think that my coffee addiction keeps me dirty enough that I can actually exist among society.

But the truth is, I’ve decided to try quitting again, after the summer, when I can spend a month or two alone, isolated and insulated from the rest of the world. Detoxing is a slow, meticulous process, which needs time and patience (a metaphor for love addiction recovery perhaps?). And the fact of the matter is, that despite my addiction to it, I feel better without it, physically and mentally. And though I’m sure to substitute my bad girl coffee habit with something equally bad (shoplifting?  loitering in front of the “No Loitering” signs around town?), at least I will no longer be a slave to the ritual or dependent upon a substance that has a little too much control over my life.

But for now, the coffee maker is brewing my usual french roast and my Starbuck’s card is fully loaded and ready to be swiped.

 

3 Tough lessons we all need to learn

It occurred to me after five years of a rather successful, peaceful recovery, that recovery and change were not going to be the pieces of cake I thought they would be. When I started to slip back into a bit of a mess that I will now call My Life, I noticed that all I had learned five years prior, seemed to have, poof! disappeared and become unlearned. For those five years, as I went around, resting on my laurels,  insisting that love addiction can, in fact, be cured (and don’t get me wrong, I definitely do still believe that new, healthier behaviors and thinking patterns can replace unhealthy ones, permanently), I forgot three maddening facts:

1. Time, and therefore life, is not linear. You don’t just move in a straight line up or down or left or right. You don’t just choose to recover and when you do, you move in a straight line upward, and just keep getting more and more perfect. It’s not that easy. Sometimes life is circular. Sometimes you make the same mistakes over and over again. Sometimes you take two steps forward and five steps back. You fall. You get up. You standstill. You roll over. You play dead. There is no simple movement forward or special force that acts as a lubricant to ease you up and out of the mess you’re in. Sure, there are shoots and ladders available, that propel you in one direction or another with speed and effortlessness. But, the reality is that Life, and being human is complicated, disorganized and sometimes you get sidetracked. And that fact alone, should tell you that in order to be successful at it, you might have to let go of your preconceived notions of what success is. Because it’s certainly not linear.

2. If I am to be realistic, I have limitations. All that made me the person I am today, all the pain, suffering, goodness and beauty that flowed through me and taught me how to “be” is all still there–good and bad. And many of those traits and behaviors and shortcomings and strengths that now make me who I am, much like my eyeball or my elbow, are here to stay. Sure, I can tweak my behavior here and there. And I can work damn hard to force my brain to think more positive thoughts. But,  I cannot ignore the fact that my brain is prone to anxiety and worry, that I have a tendency to be a control freak, that I have trouble retaining new vocabulary words, that I just don’t like being away from my family for too long, and that I am totally OCD when it comes to food, house-cleaning and my coffee intake. I can’t  just ignore these things that, like it or not, can often get in the way of progress, just as I cannot ignore the head on my shoulders or the caps on my knees. They are there. For better or worse. The question is, how to work around them.

3. Life is a surprise. Expect the unexpected. The moment you think you have it all figured out and everything is under your control, you get bitten by a rabbid dog. Or you lose your job. Or your 16-year-old son gets his girlfriend pregnant.  Or your parent dies.  Or you come down with the bubonic plague (suggestion: get on antibiotics quick for this one). The list goes on and on. The world is unpredictable and filled with good surprises and not so good surprises and whole lot of chaos. And while, sure, you can stop adding to the chaos by not creating drama yourself. But you can never fully protect yourself against the ebb and flow of the unknown. You only have a finite amount of control. Thinking you’re in total control is an illusion you have when everything just happens to be going right. And so the trick, at this point in my life, is not only to figure out how to live my life (that was my very first lesson as a love addict, by the way, –to figure out what kind of life I wanted because I never really knew), but to also figure out how to maneuver my way through The Fun House without being too surprised when something jumps out at me from behind a corner. There’s only so much I can be prepared for without driving myself crazy.

Perhaps all that I have learned has not disappeared, but rather, perhaps, new lessons and challenges are now upon me. These three are toughies. They are not lessons I ever really wanted to learn. I don’t really like change as much as I thought I did! But, the responsibility of recovery, and ultimately growing up,  is to face life, not run away from it. And to never give up. And while I may have taken a few steps back this past winter, this post is proof that I am working hard at leaping forward. In the past, I would have believed that leaping forward meant “Make no mistakes.” Now, I think it means, “Embrace what you’ve got (unless you’ve got a really bad situation that YOU can actively get out of), expect the unexpected, and let go of hanging on so tightly.” Easier said than done. But I’m going to give it my best.

Problem management

steps-to-problem-solveHow do love addicts deal with their problems? Easy. We avoid them. We bury our head in the sand or, better yet, we bury ourselves in whatever relationship we happen to be in, good or bad. The worse the relationship the better. Why? Because the more we are forced to focus on some problem or issue outside ourselves, the more we can avoid facing our own personal problems, which are actually far scarier than any other facet of life. Our problems, and our lack of ability to manage our problems, is what drives our addiction. Love addiction is a problem solver. Or rather, a problem eraser. It removes the pain of life and it removes the idea that something big and scary needs to be managed.  Ah, love!

Well, guess what… this method only works temporarily. And as soon as the relationship is over (God forbid!) the pain and suffering we think we feel for the loss of our PoA, is actually the pain and suffering of being exposed to Our Problems, which are staring us in the mirror, laughing maniacally, saying, We’re back!

They actually never went away. They are still there and we have still not figured out how to manage or cope with those problems, because instead, we’ve been focused and busy and working hard at our addiction. And here’s the thing… when you learn how to manage your problems a certain way (like avoiding them, or covering them up with love, or sex or food or alcohol or whatever), you get really good at! In Malcom Gladwell’s book Outliers, he says it takes about 10,000 hours of practice in your field to become a master. By the time I hit 40, I had logged so many hours of love addiction and avoidance, I was a professional. And I can’t help but wonder, if there was an actual service-oriented company specializing in Avoidance, would I have been their CEO? Of course, I probably would have never showed up for the job…

So, my question, is this (which I hope to answer): if in your state of addiction and acting out, you’ve spent a gazillion hours devoted to avoiding your problems and you’ve become really good at it, how do you switch “fields” and suddenly start to manage your problems in healthier ways?

Well, for starters, you face whatever life throws at you. And that’s probably the biggest hurdle to jump over. But how about this: when you realize why you don’t want to face any given problem, then it makes it a little easier to face because you now know what you need to work on first, before your problem solving skills improve on their own. In my case, I had four things going against me that created in me a need to avoid:

  • I was never taught what healthy problem-solving looked like from parents and caretakers– many members of my family were alcoholics and co-dependents who also avoided
  • I had zero faith in myself or in my ability to handle problems–a direct result of super low self-esteem and zero confidence
  • I was not a risk taker. If I made a mistake or I failed at something, I never tried again. I gave up. And when you do that, you don’t give yourself the opportunity to figure out how to do it the right way, and so, you never become good at problem solving
  • I probably also relied too heavily on others to resolve problems for me, and when no one would help me (Oh Rhett! What’ll I do? Where will I go?!) I would avoid

So, taking those three issues and working on improving them independently, has personally helped me become a better problem solver. And yet…I still have very far to go. Here are a few other tips to help you manage and cope with more strength and courage…

  • You don’t need to dive in and deal with some issue as soon as it crops up. Taking a step back, waiting a few days, assessing the problem once your emotions have cooled might put you at a better advantage of knowing what to do or how to do it.
  • Problems seem to be managed most effectively with logic and reason. Not impulsively with emotions. Again, wait until you regain a sense of logical thinking to determine how to handle an issue.
  • Know your place: Is this my problem? Is this someone else’s problem? What role should I play in the resolution of this problem, if any? Sometimes we take on certain problems that are not even ours to take on.
  • Ask for help or advice, but know what part of the problem you need to solve on your own, and what others can “help” you with. Are you being too needy? Or do you really need someone else to carry you through.
  • Don’t take problems personally and don’t think God or the world is out to get you. A healthier perspective is that EVERY LAST STINKIN’ ONE OF US HAS PROBLEMS, not just you.
  • Lose the worry: Worry complicates things. It NEVER solves anything. Worry is an emotion, not a functional tactic to resolve a problem. If need be, take a course on anxiety and panic management. Because until you get rid of your anxiety you will not be able to deal with problems logically.
  • Know the stages of problem solving. Many businesses rely heavily on people with good problem solving skills. I have also included them above in the diagram.
  • Ask God for three things: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Lastly, if you feel you are once again avoiding some issue or problem that you need to face (or that you’ve never faced before), write it out. Get to know it. Face it in ways you’ve never done. Talk to God about it. Confess to a friend. Write in a journal. Try to talk about it and work it into your life so that it doesn’t disappear into the background. And then, when you are ready, you will be more able to face it and deal with it. Easier said than done, I know. I have had a nagging problem for YEARS that I cannot seem to find an answer to, despite the fact that I face it all the time. Perhaps what’s holding me back is not so much a decision or action I must take, but rather, a change in perspective. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

 

Warriors unite

Since my visit to the ER a few weeks ago, I have kind of (kind of) snapped back. I signed up for a few online anxiety and panic attack coping strategies sessions, read all about the six human needs, found a buddhist therapist who is teaching me mindfulness, got back into cycling every other day–ah exercise– and got my portion of the insurance bill for the ER visit. If anything makes you feel instantly healthy, it’s an insurance bill.

I also started reading Carry On, Warrior, the New York Times bestseller written by the woman who writes the Momastery blog. This book came to me by way of a mother’s day gift (along with a card) from my husband’s ex wife. She has never given me anything before, with the exception of a portable round cake carrier that I felt was one of those things every mother needs, but something I never actually wanted to pay for. I still have it, and every time I break it out, I think of her.

When I got the book and card, I really quickly wrote a thank you card back.  I was deeply touched by the gesture, and so I wrote: “I am so deeply touched by the gesture.” And then I wrote, without having read one page of the book, “This book looks hilarious.” Or something to that effect.

In retrospect, I should have read the book first, and then commented on it. Because, much to my shock, while the book does have its moments of hilarity, the essence of it is not hilarious at all. In fact, it is written by a recovering alcoholic and bulimic who got pregnant then married, then wanted a divorce, etc.  and through it all, has written about her “messy” life in the hopes of inspiring other women to not be afraid to admit to an imperfect life.

The first couple days I read it, I wondered if D’s ex thought I was a recovering alcoholic.

The second few days I wondered if she thought I thought my life was miserable. Then I wondered if she wanted me to know that her life is miserable.

And when I got to the chapter “Easter” where the author writes about her intimacy issues with her husband, I was thoroughly confused. Was she sharing with me her past with D? Did she still miss him? Or did she think we were having intimacy issues right about now, at the five-year-mark and she thought I needed to read all about it.

Of course, I’m over-thinking this. Her gesture was probably not as deep as I am making it out to be. It was an act of kindness and I need to take it as such.

But, I can’t help but wonder if she knows about this blog, if she reads it, or if she even cares. Chances are that she doesn’t. But if she does…

Here’s a direct message:

You’re a lifesaver. I have been going out of mind dealing with my teenage son with whom I caught smoking twice, and learned that he’s been getting drunk with friends as well. My position at work was phased out, and while I still have the luxury of receiving a paycheck, I have no “career,” and that kills me. Finding a new life for myself is scary as hell. ANd I don’t want to do it. On top of that, I feel physically run down. Thankfully, the one thing that is going right in my life is D. And while he can get on my nerves from time to time, and I can surely get on his (chapter: Easter), I feel as though I’ve found the promised land with him. He’s not the problem. I am. But this book has given me courage, and I thank you for “pouring the first glass of wine” and reaching out of your comfort zone to give it to me. Not only did you offer me a gift I can really use, you exposed yourself and let me in. That says a lot about your character.  And I thank you again.