Getting to the root

Tonight at my meeting I heard tools that I can use:

1) Return to morning practice of connecting with my higher power (so other things, for example my anger and resentment, don't become my higher power.)

2) Return to step work and reading fellowship literature

3) Look farther back in my life to see if I can identify where this quality of being unforgiving, and these feelings of and this clinging to anger and resentment originate. What am I afraid of?

In talking with others after the meeting I realized that I still do feel that if I was valued enough this never would have happened; I realized that anger and resentment feel safer than forgiving; and that I hate the phrase letting go because to me it means being a good girl and not being upset, because I know it's the right thing to do. (My mother uses that phrase, and yet she never lets go of anything. Perhaps I have no role models for authentic letting go.)

These are concrete things I can do, and it feels good to have actions to take instead of staying mired in a fog of anger, resentment, sadness, confusion, and emotional isolation.

We read Step 6, and it said "It takes a brave person to step unarmed into the arena of the unknown, desiring only to relate to God and others with honesty and intimacy for the first time."

I need to remember that this is why it gets hard sometimes: The life I'm trying to live requires that I put down my defenses, and that is scary, especially when I lose touch with higher power.

My journey is my own, but I'm not alone.

Wednesday, 10.12.11, 12:20AM - Like a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a non-answer to my questions, Pema Chodron showed up in my inbox just now:

"To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, bitterness, righteous indignation— harden in any way, even into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration." - From The Buddha Is Still Teaching, selected and edited by Jack Kornfield, © 2010.

The Shield

I haven't been able to escape the feeling that I've withdrawn in some small yet fundamental way from Husband, and this morning I realized why.

Things have been as good as I guess they can get given the events of the past 6 months. Husband is actively in recovery, growing, knowing himself better, discovering the power of spirituality, reaching out, taking risks, getting happier and more self aware, feeling more deeply connected to me. He expresses love in many ways - words, touch, flowers, cooking, caring, listening, encouraging, supporting, etc. Great, right?

I used to feel like we were combined on an energy level. Like our auras (or something) mingled and danced together whenever we were near each other, whenever I heard his voice, whenever I thought of him. Not that we were one, so much as that we were profoundly co-mingled. And when he said "I love you," when I saw him, when we touched, I'd feel loving energy spread warmly through my body.

That isn't so anymore. I feel totally and completely separate. Disconnected.

And I've been wondering what's wrong with me that everything seems to be going so merrily in the right direction and yet I have a persistent feeling of distance from him. It's not a canyon, but but a quantum gap - almost imperceptible yet profound. It's not that I don't love him. It's not that I want something or someone else. It's not that I think he's lying to me now. It's my body. My body doesn't believe him. My intellect understands that he is a different person now, but my molecules aren't taking any chances. Darwinian survival instincts at work. Beautiful and sad at the same time.

What I realized this morning is that when he lied to me, that betrayal not only destroyed something that was there (trust); it also created something that wasn't there before (a strong shield that's protecting my cells from the perceived threat of annihilation.) Right now it's easier for me to imagine having that co-mingled, energy-tendrils-caressing-and-exploring-each-other feeling with someone I just met than with Husband because a new person would not have to contend with The Shield.

So it's around this Shield that my work needs to be done if I want to have the deep connection as I had before with Husband. It's around this Shield where the ground is most fertile for my own growth. So now what? Is this where I ask my higher power for some help?

Meditate and pray...if I don't unearth answers, at least I'll be treading the path of peace.