Though, according to my first counselor of the morning, that is my own fault for being too analytical and not being able to control my own belief system/thought process/ blah blah fucking blah.
I am currently on my lunch break at my second day of treatment. I have Mr. Reznor strapped into my ears as usual, so that no one will try to engage me in conversation. I am frustrated beyond fuck with the state of things right now. I just sat through a one hour group meeting that had me gripping the sides of my chair. It is just the same crap, over and over, pandering to the counselors to say the right thing, the endless fucking poetry. I just sat through some asshole's hijacking of the meeting while he waxed lyrical about sweet FUCK ALL for at least half an hour. No one could get a word in edgewise, and the counselors did nothing to end his incessant rambling. By the end I was just vibrating to get the fuck out of there.
It is not that I think I am better than these people, that I am smarter than they or that they have sunk lower than I. I just feeling like telling them to SHUT the FUCK UP, stop regurgitating every fucking thing you have ever heard at a meeting and let's fucking get on with this. I just can't bear to sit there, treading water and achieving NOTHING while everyone tries to outdo each other as the group's sage. We are only here for two fucking weeks, people. I don't give a FUCK if you think that rock climbing brings you closer to the Lord! Get to your point, and shut the fuck up so we can learn something!
And things with Bf have been frustrating me too, which could have something to do with my current state of mind. Since we decided to give it another shot, he has been distant - he doesn't return my calls or texts; last night he came home and spent some time with Baby, then went downstairs to watch TV once she had gone to bed, neither inviting me to join him or even inquiring as to what I was up to. And he didn't join me when I went up to bed, which is HIS constant complaint about ME. I just want to say to him, "Stop punishing me! You made your decision, now stop fucking vacillating when I fucking need you the most! Pick a side, man, we're at war. Are you in or are you out?"
And the simple fact that he didn't ask me a single fucking THING about my first day of treatment yesterday...I don't even know how that makes me feel. Hurt, offended, enraged, discouraged, and ready to throw in the fucking towel with him. Not with me getting better or going to treatment. Just with him.
I am just ready to fucking scream. I am surrounded by fucking idiots that think if they just hump the Big Book and regurgitate all that they can remember that they are going to get better. The only one who has said anything that has made any sense AT ALL has been a girl named M, who said that she really didn't see how going to treatment and talking were going to cure her alcoholism. I knew exactly what she was really saying - she wanted to know how talking was going to take away all the things that have been done to her and all she has seen, and make her whole again. I just wanted to shout out to her that it wouldn't, that nothing will make you whole again, you will never get your revenge and you will never be okay with what happened to you. The best that you can hope for is that they will have some tips on how you can stop letting it destroy your entire fucking life.
When we finally broke up for lunch, I stormed outside to have a smoke and check my mobile, to see if Bf had bothered to return my text from the morning, a cheerful funny glib thing that asked how he was. It is his day off, after all - maybe he has just been so busy at work?
I sent it two hours ago. I still haven't heard back.
And so, in my frustration, I find that I am craving escape. I want to leave treatment and go do something destructive or painful. Like, I really want to just walk into a shop and get the tattoo that I have been wanting for months done, NOW. That's the happiest, least harmful of the things that I would really like to do right now. At the other end of the scale, I have an eightball of cocaine, twenty 80's of OxyContin and a revolver.
I can't decide which two things I would use first.
No comments:
Post a Comment