In which something occurs

The last couple of days I've caught myself thinking of my hypothetical Higher Power as "God." Not the God of my youth, but still. What's up with that; is it residual brainwashing crap from my Catholic years?

It doesn't matter much to me at the moment, actually. It's been a desperate few days, overall. Tons and tons of shame and self-loathing about things I've done and failed to do. When I discussed this with E this morning--a five-kleenex endeavor--she asked me if I'm able to identify the shame attacks as they're happening. (Yes.) So can I disarm them accordingly, label them as undeserved, reject them?

Sort of, I said. But mostly, the last couple of days, they seem pretty reasonable to me. They seem true. That makes it hard to convince myself otherwise via cognitive mind games.

So then we talked again about depression and why I need to have my medication evaluated. Which I already knew I was supposed to do but hadn't because--well, you can infer why not. It's funny how depression nails you that way, makes you need help but saps you of the simplest capacity to reach out for it.

E says this is not okay, that if my medication were working I wouldn't be having the kind of thoughts I've been having. It's way beyond rational guilt for doing bad stuff. It's pretty mean shit.

Right, so. I will deal with that. I made an appointment with one person E suggested, but she can't see me till June 11. So tomorrow I'll try the other one.

Hmm, most of that was an unintended digression. Anyway.

E says that all this is, once again, very common for people in early recovery. Emotions and memories come up before you have the tools to cope with them, particularly in the context of just having given up your biggest crutch. She says that people do get through it and she believes I can as well.

Lately I've started talking to the (Not-)God entity in the car while driving back and forth between meetings and home. Yeah, talking out loud. It's weird, I know. But when I pray (?! I do not like that word) silently, it gets all biblical and creepy and rote. Also my wanders very easily and I end up thinking about the dog or what have you.

Out loud, I just talk, like I would to a friend. I ramble a lot and backtrack and self-justify. I hedge my bets: If you're out there, etc etc. Somehow it feels more genuine to me than my other attempts. I ask for help, willingness, courage, honesty. I ask for understanding. Very recently I started to ask for healing of the shame thing.

Tonight--yeah, all this meandering actually does have a destination, at which we've at last arrived--during a meeting, something unprecedented took place. I don't know what to call it or why it occurred as it did. The meeting was a grim one; someone had just lost a friend to a relapse that ended in overdose, and people began to tell about their own friends who had died because of their addictions and to try to suss out what it all means, why some make it and some don't, and whether these poor bastards are responsible for their own deaths, and so forth. But every single person also talked about their gratitude for their current sobriety, their belief in the program of AA, their certainty that if they continue to go to meetings and pursue spiritual growth they won't drink again.

In the midst of this, it came to my attention that God doesn't want me to hate myself.

Disclaimer: I realize that this sounds just plain goofy no matter who you are. If you already believe in some benevolent godlike entity, if you're grounded in that faith, it is self evident that God doesn't want anybody to hate themselves. And if you don't believe, it is self evident that I'm experiencing a scary groupthink/mindfuck kind of thing.

I'm pretty susceptible to outside influences, it's true. And it's true as well that this is how AA works: you go to meetings over and over, you listen, you maybe try a thing or two, and you start to see some of the principles working for you much as they're working for the people you're listening to. Is it all the power of suggestion?

How about this: I don't care. Indeed, I don't give a rat's ass. I am at the low point of my life, and if God is out there I need it on my side. (How's that for the aforementioned foxhole conversion?) To put it just a bit less cynically, what if choosing to be open to the possibility of God truly could help me not to drink? What if it could even help me become a better person? A happier person? If faith is a choice, and if AA is correct that it can do these things for me, then the choice is clear.

I think. Hell, I don't know what I really think. But I do know that I felt a conviction tonight that God doesn't want me to hate myself. Not a vision or a voice or a burning bush. Just a simply felt truth, deep inside.

I felt too that I'm going to be able to forgive myself for the things I've done. Not yet, but later.

The four hours since then have been good. Not blissful, but quietly good. I still feel those two convictions, and with them hope.

I am intrigued.