Helplessness
10:29 PM Edit This 22 Comments »
I had a hard night tonight. It did not go as I expected. Not at all. Some of it did, and it was incredible, but the last part? I not like it. I went to a recovery meeting like I always do on Wednesdays. It was a great meeting. J and I went to the women's sober house to lead another meeting for the women that live there and on my way home? The call I've been alternately dreading and anticipating. We are somewhat trained on the fly to respond to such things. It is expected of us.
"Where you at?"
Almost home. Why?
"I need someone to come get my wife. She told me to call you."
Damnit.
"She's really bad."
Does she want to go?
"I don't know, but she isn't staying here. I told her I'd call the cops. That's when she told me to call you."
It won't do any good if she doesn't want to go.
"Well, get over here and make her!"
The struggle in my mind is furious and quick. I don't WANT to go. I'm SCARED to go. I don't know how to do this. Not one bit. But I do know that when I was ready, I called my recovery mom at 2 in the morning and she came. She told me to go to bed and she'd come tomorrow, but I responded that if she didn't come get me right now, I'd lie about it in the morning and pretend it didn't happen. And she came. And drove my ass to treatment in the middle of the night. Because it was time. The time when I was finally beaten down enough to follow directions and let someone else call the shots for once. The point of surrender.
So I went. They crying, the yelling, the pleading. Was almost too much to bear. You can't reason with a drunk. There is no reasoning. The trick is to get them to trust you just long enough to get them in the car. How many times I said, "Just get in the car. We'll figure it out tomorrow." I can't even count. I felt helpless and amazed at the chaos all at once. It was like taming a tornado to do your will. Which is impossible. But we try anyway. County detox is at the jail. The place where I went to visit the dead guy many, many times. To bail him out. If I had only known that NOT bailing him out might have helped...
So I'm exhausted, and I've cried off and on from the frustration and helplessness of it all, but tomorrow it will look better. Right? I have to be right in that, or I wouldn't be here today. So many nights, I went to sleep, hoping against hope that I wouldn't wake up. That I'd just die there and have it over with. But no. I'm still here. I have no expectations that this woman will make it long term, but I did what I had to do. For me. Because I'm selfish like that.
"Where you at?"
Almost home. Why?
"I need someone to come get my wife. She told me to call you."
Damnit.
"She's really bad."
Does she want to go?
"I don't know, but she isn't staying here. I told her I'd call the cops. That's when she told me to call you."
It won't do any good if she doesn't want to go.
"Well, get over here and make her!"
The struggle in my mind is furious and quick. I don't WANT to go. I'm SCARED to go. I don't know how to do this. Not one bit. But I do know that when I was ready, I called my recovery mom at 2 in the morning and she came. She told me to go to bed and she'd come tomorrow, but I responded that if she didn't come get me right now, I'd lie about it in the morning and pretend it didn't happen. And she came. And drove my ass to treatment in the middle of the night. Because it was time. The time when I was finally beaten down enough to follow directions and let someone else call the shots for once. The point of surrender.
So I went. They crying, the yelling, the pleading. Was almost too much to bear. You can't reason with a drunk. There is no reasoning. The trick is to get them to trust you just long enough to get them in the car. How many times I said, "Just get in the car. We'll figure it out tomorrow." I can't even count. I felt helpless and amazed at the chaos all at once. It was like taming a tornado to do your will. Which is impossible. But we try anyway. County detox is at the jail. The place where I went to visit the dead guy many, many times. To bail him out. If I had only known that NOT bailing him out might have helped...
So I'm exhausted, and I've cried off and on from the frustration and helplessness of it all, but tomorrow it will look better. Right? I have to be right in that, or I wouldn't be here today. So many nights, I went to sleep, hoping against hope that I wouldn't wake up. That I'd just die there and have it over with. But no. I'm still here. I have no expectations that this woman will make it long term, but I did what I had to do. For me. Because I'm selfish like that.
22 comments:
What amazes me about this whole matching recovering alcoholics with other recovering alcoholics is that in helping others, a flood of your own memories come back. Maybe they haunt you. Maybe they serve as a very real reminder why you chose sobriety. Whatever the case, it must be incredibly overwhelming. You, my dear, are so very strong. Really, I'm impressed.
Ya did good.
It was hard, but you did it. You should be proud of yourself instead of beating yourself up.
Congrats on making it through an incredibly difficult evening. Your strength is so inspiring!!!!
That's what I call paying it forward. Good job, Kate.
I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going/went through, but I will say that "selfish" is the last word I would use to describe you.
Strong work babe! It is tough, but you helped someone that couldn't help themselves.
To me it seems as if you did something for BOTH of you. That's good.
Oh my god.
Good for you, Kate. That was really hard and you did it!
Whoa. I can't even imagine the emotional exhaustion of the situation. You did awesome though. If I was closer, I'd bring you ice cream!
~hugs~
Good for you for doing the right thing!
She's lucky she had you to call.
Change the title please...
HelpFULness!
Courage! You will come back to yourself.
The LAST thing your act was, was selfish. It may have been necessary for BOTH of you, yes, but it was in no way selfish. What you did was amazing, and you will be stronger for it... and hopefully one day, she'll remember that you did it for her, and she'll do it for someone else, even though she doesn't want to, even though she's scared.
I echo that it wasn't selfish. Doing the right thing, especially for someone else, is allowed to work for you. Hell, it's supposed to work for you. It's supposed to enrich you, too.
"It won't do any good if she doesn't want to go"... and yet... there was a conscious decision on her part that you be called. She trusted YOU to make the right decision, to do the right thing. You went and plowed through the crying, yelling and pleading and did what needed to be done. And maybe this wasn't THE right time but it was A right time and I think you did real good!
I have read this post at least three times, wanting to say something, and I just can't figure out what exactly is what I want to say. Your strength amazes me, Kate. Big, big, huge hug.
I'm pretty sure they allow private citizens to carry tasers now.
WOW. Powerful post. I'm speechless. Thank goodness I've never had to go through any of this. I don't know that I'd have the strength
So you've moved from being helpless to helping people. Sounds pretty good to me.
Hey brave well girl...good job. You are passing it on. It might not take this time. But so what. Maybe this will be one of the blocks that build the structure for when it does.
Or maybe it won't. B t you my dear...you did a good thing.
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