To thine own self be entirely unhinged 🙀

My brother and I looking like two backup singers on HeeHaw and the most appropriate image I could find to describe this feeling.

Alternate title: When the going gets tough, the tough break down sometimes.

Nothing like a good ol' crisis to reveal yourself to yourself.

And the opportunities keep coming, no?

It doesn't matter how much self-inquiry work you've done, a crisis will never fail to test the efficacy of that work. Like someone once bellowed at the end of an AA meeting before the circle of hands had even a chance to break, "Let's see if this shit works at home".

Sometimes this shit does work at home. Life can lob something my way that challenges me to be productive in a tactile way, like to protect, defend or provide for my family, and I'm on it. I'll drive across Texas at 25 mph on an icy highway to help my Momma without hesitation. If it's under my four walls or an extension thereof, I'm energetic and nimble. I'm also excellent at zooming out. I can see a big picture. I can easily synthesize information, disparate concepts do not frighten me.

But don't ask me to do both at the same time. 

As the sun emerged on Friday in Austin and the calls for mobilization began is exactly when my paralysis set in. I'd joined some mutual aid Facebook groups, I could see modern heroes making this effort and that and as eager as I was to DO SOMETHING, I became entirely overwhelmed. I could be a witness at the very least, but the scrolling only served to disassociate me further. It reminded me of when I was at the end of my alcoholism. I was so overwhelmed by my circumstances, the only response I could muster was to further detach myself with more alcohol. 

And then the shame set in. I managed to donate some money here and there, but the onset of shame can be like opening a package of Oreos, once it's open, I'm probably going to eat them all. Oh what's this? Unopened boxes in my house that have sat here for months? *Swallows* The realities of a postmenopausal non-existent sex drive? *Yum* You're 51 and you forgot where you placed your lust for life? *Sure, I'll have another, please!* Can you manage to finish one thing you start? *Mmmmm*

I woke up this morning determined to write this down even knowing it won't be resolved. And perhaps it doesn't need resolution. THIS IS  the murky discomfort of life and it's actually the only thing guaranteed in recovery. If you are reading this and in early sobriety, I hope that discovering life is still going to be a complex cookie-turd sandwich doesn't deter you. In fact, eating the entire box, right here for everyone to see, is this shit...working at home.