
I haven't been going to meetings lately. And I feel like I'm slipping away.
Once again, I roam the house, every night, in my own little world, trapped inside the insanity of my head. Tonight, my head is pounding, as if someone took a sledge hammer right between my eyes. I know I should read something, perhaps pick up the Big Book and get out of myself, but I don't -- I can't
"When will I ever be normal?" This is a question that I've asked myself since my childhood. And sadly, I never get the answer. So I accept my imperfections and move on -- help others to avoid dwelling on those imperfections. But tonight, as my daughter silently sleeps in the other room, I ask myself that question again...
I never knew, nor will I ever know, the definition of normal. And if I ever found out, would I want to be normal? Have I become so comfortable with my abnormalities that I would never be satisfied with normal. Still, I hide behind my normal facade -- fooling everyone in my life.
I was watching The Barbara Walters Special the other day -- in the middle of the night (Tivo-ed) of course, and became mesmerized by Mickey's Rourke's interview. He looked weird, almost distorted. "Is it just old age?" I asked myself. "Nah... something is not right about him." Then Barbara (like we're friends) asked him whether he ever wanted to kill himself. He stared at her, held his breath, and kept in his tears.
"I never wanted to die," he said. "I just wanted to go away."
I understood what he meant, more than I wanted to admit. Before I went into recovery, I felt the same way. And what really scares me is lately, I'm starting to feel this way again. That's why I'm writing this Journal post.
"I'm slipping away..."