Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Broken Shoelace

You’ve heard it too. It’s not the big things that can make us want to drink. It’s not necessarily the lost job, death in the family, divorce or broken heart. But the ordinary, daily, unexpected frustration. The broken shoelace.

It’s happening now and I’m watching my thought process. Last night I broke not a shoelace but a toe. Unexpected, and yes, I was rushing. I turned quickly and tripped over my husband! (We won’t even go all Gestalt and metaphoric on that one please.) I went down with my toe bending at an unnatural angle and pain shot through me.

Now, here’s the how-I know-I’m-an-addict part. I immediately began to cry, “I can’t have this right now; this can’t happen.” This thing that was clearly happening—had already happened—was not in my plan. (When are unexpected things ever in our plans?) Most of my pain after the initial crunch was me insisting and sobbing, “I have too much to do; I can’t deal with this; I have to go to work.” And I felt a deep and scary thought/feeling go thru me: “What can I take to make this go away?”

I felt the inner battle: “I’ll ignore this and go to work”—versus--“This is the moment to practice new behavior, to take care of yourself.”

Yeah, good luck with that. To be honest those feelings are still duking it out. I went to the doctor. It is indeed broken. The prescription: ice, elevation and REST. And I don’t want to. Boy, does this show me where my recovering is lacking. Rest. Self-care. Accepting reality. Being human.

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