Category Archives: dark daze

Priority Lies

What are the most important things to me right now?

  • Getting a job.
  • Developing my business of teaching yoga, personal coaching (making money at those things.)
  • Writing down everything that I feel strongly about, everything that I am figuring out and realizing from day to day and even hour to hour.
  • Getting physically fit.

What does my typical day look like?

  • I don’t set an alarm (because I am afraid I will not have gotten to sleep early enough to get sleep)
  • I wake up in dread, usually between 730 and 9. I don’t get out of bed right away because I feel like I am just here to ‘work’ for shit and I don’t look forward to anything fun or happy.
  • when I do get up I drink water, feed the cat and do some exercise (yoga or stretching). I usually get into browsing youtube for silly stuff instead of doing yoga from one of my favorite videos and then shutting off the tv.
  • After often a couple of hours I eat breakfast and get washed up.
  • I might start ‘working’ on something by late morning or early afternoon, at which time I feel like I’ve already failed in my day.
  • I hunker down to write something or work on finding a job and
    1. each task takes me at least 3 times longer than I expected, or
    2. I find it impossible to keep from trying to work on 3 or 4 to-do’s at once.
  • Once I’ve gotten myself buried, without focus, in one or a bunch of things I begin to feel tired (eyes) and uncomfortable from sitting in front of the computer.
  • then I feel too ashamed to go outside and be human because I have made myself so unhappy.
  • I check my calendar here and there to see what I have knocked off my list of to-do’s.
  • I think about fun things to do to celebrate any accomplishments of the day, but my inside police make me reduce my ideas to something smaller and smaller until I do nothing fun. I procrastinate about having fun…

Bleh. I’ll have to look back it this post later because I can feel how I really wrote myself into a depressing hole.

I have a Hot Stone Yoga webpage to write…So, I’ll grab a bite to eat and do that next. Phew.



Really Breaking Up

“You have to learn how to take less

responsibility for him(/her) so you

can focus on your own healing.

Sometimes love is letting go so

a person can grow.”

Humility: Additional Perspective

Humility doesn’t just mean that you feel you are not better than anyone else.

It means that you know that you can be hurt, that you can be hurt and are as human and fragile as everyone else. That you and everyone else are equally deserving of care, gentility…

Brace Myself – More Withdrawal on the Way

What does one do during withdrawal?

Care for it.

Make things easy and simple on myself.


Love myself and remind myself that I do.





Eat well.

Listen to kind words and voices.

Don’t let myself be alone all the time.

Sit in the sun.

Get out on the water.

Feel the night air



It’s not true that I am weak. I am just a human being. Hurt feelings hurt. Love mistakes hurt.  Addiction hurts. Denial hurts.

Spirits heal but it is a process, painful like open wounds.

It is not true that I am too weak. It is not true that I need him.

I am helping myself to run the other way.

Having learned that other people need me to be in denial with them to heal is a difficult thing to overcome.

Relearning how to love is excruciating.

Peace comes from finding my own, not someone else’s.

Setting myself free from the ‘pen’ I’ve kept myself in is a shocking experience…scary, uncomfortable…

For a human being. We are fragile, powerful in our hurt and our love.

Beautifully fragile.

Ask to be treated gently. Treat yourself gently.

And then that is all you will feel.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop

I wish I could stop.

Jumble Therapy

My therapist appointment today was good. But overwhelming…

I struggle with understanding things emotionally, I think… I always try to ‘understand’ intellectually, and the two understandings are kind of mutually exclusive. Frustrating.

Today we talked about

– why I am so hell-bent on ‘being heard’

– how I feel like I want (my ex, my mother) to feel bad for doing mean, manipulative things…

– that my need for acknowledgment from my ex and my mother is natural, because I need something from them that I don’t need from other people

– that I need to grieve for the ways they both hurt me, and the fact that it is to the degree that I feel almost unreparable…

That is lots to process.

When I have to write a chapter of my dissertation…

How to allow those things the time they need… Reparent? Say to myself,

“Shantelle, I will take care of you while you process those things.”


A friend of mine, a person I have been spending time with and talking with since we both were in the same ACA stepstudy, talked about seeing ‘signs’ a few weeks ago. I think I believe in that, but when she talked about it I had this immediate feeling that even if signs were appearing throughout my day, I was/am much too absorbed in my business, desperate schedule, dread, and nervous anticipation…constantly, to even notice signs…

Then I head face-first into a brick wall, the ‘sign’ literally attacking me front and centre to get my attention. And I feel the smarting, I feel the headache, the shock, the need to sit down. If you’ve ever walked straight into a telephone pole because you weren’t watching where you were going, then you have a good idea of how I feel.

So, last night, I understand that I was given such a sign. I call into the Alanon phone meetings sometimes. Especially at night when I am so wired that I need to feel human…I need to feel like I am not a foreign creature who is alone feeling and thinking of these exhausting feelings and thoughts.

So, I call in, and I listen to a few shares, and I decide that I don’t think I will get to sleep for hours if I don’t share. I think I am feeling so overwhelmed that I need to give myself the gift of sharing, let myself get it off my chest, give myself the gift of listeners who will hear me, and who will find some value in what I am putting myself through. So, for my first time in Alanon phone meetings, I unmute myself and introduce myself to share. I talked about how I am usually scared to share and just find comfort in listening to others, and then I shared what was on my mind that evening (see post that precedes this one). I was scared, and struggled as I tried to express myself, but heard myself at instances. Heard myself sounding like a girl who wanted to be a woman. An injured being who wanted to be healed. A contributor to the health and well-being of those of us who need to hear others stories to feel loved, love by themselves even.

When I was done I said I was thankful for the meeting, very much. And heard silence.

I looked at my phone, and the ‘hold’ button was pressed….

I looked at the clock and I had been talking for just about 5 minutes.

To Myself…

I felt delirious.

And I felt sick to my stomach. Alone with myself.

I so wanted to hear the voice of the moderator when I came to the end of my share…

For what?

For acknowledgment. To know I exist. To know I am not just a ball of dread and unhappiness. To know I live and breathe and feel and am here for a reason besides to inject an alcoholic or para-alcoholic with assuredness that he/she is not a terrible person…

And where was I? Alone, with myself. Hating that all of that energy and thought I spend is not going to come back to me.

And as I write this…the significance of having talked to myself or 5 whole minutes knocks on the semi-locked iron doors of my mis-directed will. I had to face (with nausea) the fact that I TALKED TO MYSELF for 5 whole minutes. Face that I presume that talking to myself is embarrasing, humiliating, useless, foolish… Like, really. Where is TALKING TO MYSELF going to get me?! I can’t do anything for myself. I’m the one who got myself here in this painful place in the first place… I was sooooo disappointed.

The sign?! A difficult one for me to ‘see’. Because I do not think much of my ability to care for myself. But how ironic that all I have been reading about and learning about in the past year has to do with self-love, self-care, re-parenting, listening to my feelings, learning to focus on what I need and want… What an absolutely brazen sign. I want to cry

p.s. Dharmagoddess, what a coincidence…your comment… “hearing my own voice was enough”…”Progress […] depended on ME”… I am terribly thankful for the powerful ‘signs’, including yours, last night. Thankful and devastated about how terribly much I have tried to live with myself and ignore myself at the same time. Thankful that the signs are still coming. That the world is still trying to get through to me. Thankful that I am being given the ability to ‘see’…

Can Of Worms. A Bottomless One…!?

I decided to take this step. To begin looking at the steps. I was honestly thinking that the painful part, the opening of the can of worms, was going to be a relatively short-lived stage. My can of worms, however, is deep.

I wish I could dig, like with a huge commercial grade machine and get right to the bottom in one foul swoop. I don’t care how gross and disgusting it feels. How dirty i get…. Can we just get it over with quickly?!? For F’s sake!!! By the time I finish this exercise my gut is going to be a washboard of steel. I don’t need that, do I? Do I really need to dig into this can with a baby spoon?? At the pace of a kid without the motor skills to do so? Really!?? Come on. Wading through my own shit is really, really…disconcerting. I just want to throw myself into a vat of molasses so that I actually have an excuse for crawling through this at the speed of a nit. Grrrrrrr. Rrrraaaaawwwwwrrr!

Caring for my own self is an excruciating lesson to learn. Why does caring for my self feel so frustratingly staid. I am like a restless delirious two-year old running full tilt only to be hauled to a stop by the silly little harness wrapped around my chest. Is this the process of growing up? Is this the that??

I really need a mind altering substance to ease this restless irritability that is going to drive me insane…

You wanna know what’s in my Can Of Worms??
– I lie, I pretend, I act, I avoid, I suppress, I ‘stuff’, I judge, I resent, I fear, I hate, I cry (only on the inside), I obsess, I suffer, I run away, I put my head up against a (you know, one of those things that you can sharpen an axe or a scythe against – figuratively speaking of course), I feel sorry for myself, I cower, I curl up and rot alone, I deprive myself, I starve myself, I don’t grieve, I don’t admit my guilt, I torture myself, I pretend some more, I procrastinate, I punish myself some more, I don’t trust my self, I talk myself out of having fun, I isolate myself, I look for sympathy, I expect from others the impossibilities that I expect from myself, I intimidate, I fool, I give and make people feel uncomfortable, I watch myself suffer and don’t respond or help, I get my back up, I refuse to be soft and accepting of my reality…who I am. I let the cruel voices and habits rule.

But when I was young…I knew. I knew I needed a safe place. I knew my mother was being an inadequate caregiver, I knew I was scared, I knew I needed protection, I knew I didn’t do anything to deserve abandonment. I knew I didn’t hurt people, I knew I was angry, I knew I was ignored, I knew my mother was trying to convince me of lies, I knew John was a jerk, I knew I was vulnerable, I knew my innocence was violated, abused and stolen, I knew people were self-absorbed, I knew I was being hurt, I knew my mother should have known better, I know John should have known better. I knew I shouldn’t have had to run through the woods in the middle of the night, I knew I shouldn’t have been that scared, I knew I didn’t want to agree with them, I knew I didn’t want to pretend I was ok. I knew they were cruel to not be interested in how I was doing.

Do I know now?

I feel like it’s taking me a while to face what I really am, what I really feel, how angry and violated I really feel. Because if I face what I really feel I think I will lose something…everything? Things will have to change. I will have to change. I will really have to plug on to life, into the world. I think I have to be afraid of that because plugging in right now means I get completely drained. I plug into the wrong outlets. I don’t know the good ones to plug into. That’s why I feel so drained right now, and have for years!!!! Oh…my…