april 28. courage.

October 1, 2013

I feel as if I am falling apart.

A month, maybe more, before I attended my first coda meeting, before I had even heard of coda - I wrote the words above. I felt lost, scared, out of control and unhappy with the way my life was unfolding. I was questioning all the decisions I had made - the divorce, the way I was interacting with my littles, the way I was responding to the people I considered friends. I was practicing little to no self love or self care and beating myself up about it at every turn.

It was that very day that I started searching online, looking for help, in the form of a therapist or group, anything that I could just trust and believe in. Somewhere along the way, I found coda. I read the characteristics that define codependency and I related to them. Not all, but more than a few and definitely more than could be considered healthy. My denial patterns and compliance patterns were classic. In fact I found examples in all the categories that I related to and a little voice inside thought maybe this was the answer I had been seeking for so long.

When I were married, and even today, my ex liked to tell me that he hoped I would find what I was looking for. I believe he intended this to be positive, an encouragement for me along my path to self discovery, although truthfully, I never took it as such. Then and now, I felt as if the connotation was derogatory - painting me in a half empty sort of light, never satisfied with what I had or where I was or even who I was - always searching for something better, something more.

I will never believe this to be true, although I was searching. Most definitely, continually searching. But not for the reasons he may have believed. In hindsight, and after so much work, I have realized that what I was searching for was a way to understand the truth about me. About my feelings. About why I choose to do the things I do, why I feel the way I do. How my choices and behaviors have created shame in my life and how to embrace those feelings, learn from them and not let them overwhelm me and cause me to feel unlovable, unworthy, and a whole host of other emotions that are just as debilitating and sad.

The most difficult part though, was that before coda I could not articulate this - to myself let alone anyone else. I didn't understand it at all. The only thing I knew for certain was that there was a sadness inside me, a lot of which I attributed to my mom's death and I wasn't looking for something to fill the void, I was looking for something to keep me from thinking about it - yoga, triathlon - anything that would keep my mind busy, exhausted and quiet.

Which, when you add in the writing I did on my blog during that time, makes absolutely no sense at all. I didn't want to think and yet, I over thought, over analyzed, every single event in my life, every single thought that passed through my mind. Talk about beating your head against a wall.

Fast forward last year.

Divorce, the loss of my job, the loss of my oldest little to living with his dad, an eighteenth birthday and graduation and inevitably, his moving away. The sale of our family home, my purchase of another. New job, additional new job, both children gone for a month. Surgery, contractors, allowing another man in my life then finally listening to my heart and taking steps to create appropriate boundaries which ended the relationship. Wanting connection and avoiding connection. The loss of friendships - through divorce and for other reasons. Grief.

There was not one thing in my life that was the same as it had been the previous year. And yet, instead of feeling better, I began to feel worse. My relationship with my daughter was suffering. My friend relationships were suffering. I was back to retreating and avoiding and excusing and beginning to behave in ways with people that I loved that were not healthy in the least. To a small extent I was living in fear for reasons that I will not share, but reasons that suffice to say, were very, very real to me.

People kept telling me that words and actions could only hurt me if I let them. And yet, I did not believe them. That fear I lived with forced me to give up. To give away my power before I realized it was happening and there was not one thing I could do to stop it. I just gave in.

And then I wrote the words above. And I went online and found coda. And, as scared as I was and as uncomfortable as it was for me - who would be there, would they judge me, would they look at me like I didn't belong - I went to my first meeting. And I even stood up when they asked who was new and accepted my first week chip.

People have told me that I am courageous. That I had the courage to say when enough was enough for me. That I had courage in how I dealt with my little. That I had courage when I faced the changes in everything I knew to be true about my life. People tell me I am courageous.

I am not so sure about those things. I believe those things were reactions to situations I felt powerless in versus conscious choices on my part to be courageous. I reacted and sometimes I reacted well and I was proud of the decisions I made. But sometimes, well, probably more than sometimes, I reacted poorly - in anger or in pain. And those times, however courageous they may look - have taken their toll.

No, those are not evidence of me being courageous, but I can tell you what I think was...

The day I realized that divorce did not magically solve all of our problems, the day that I realized I could no longer continue to run and hide from the truth of how I felt about myself and those around me, the day I walked into my first coda meeting. That was me being courageous that day. It took courage to look at myself in the mirror and to see that I was unwell and yet to still believe that I deserved to be well. It took courage to face my fears of embarrassment and rejection and in reality, to just walk into that room. It took courage to admit that I had problems and that I wanted to work on them. Yes, that first step took courage, my friends, it was scary, heart pounding I cannot speak kind of scary, because it left me - exposed. That first step screamed - Hi, my name is Melisa I am not perfect and today and going forward, I am choosing to own that. No blame. No shame.

It is unbelievable how far I am today from that scared little girl who walked into the fellowship eighteen months ago. Don't get me wrong, I realize I am far from healed - and may never be completely, step 12 asks us to practice the principles we learn in all our affairs. And it is a practice. But now I have a plan, a map that I follow that is leading me toward that healing. And for the first time in a very long time, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. A light that is fueled by the belief that it is ok to invest in myself and that I am worthy of this time, and that in the end, the love and respect I show myself will magnify the love I am able to show those around me.

I am loving this journey, this discovering of who I can be when I let go of obsessively trying to control my past and look instead at how it has shaped me and at what I can and have learned from it. When I focus on what I want to take with me into my future and let go of what I want to leave behind. Trust me when I say it can frightening, truly truly frightening, to open ourselves up, to allow others to see those deep and dark places we hide from the world, but I am learning that when I do - a whole new world opens right up before me. A world where all that is required of me is to be authentically, unapologetically, me.

xxo.