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August 25 • What's Cookin'?

Day 778

Feeling good is so fragile. I do not know whether this is just my basic personality, my addict trying to sneak on the scene, or just the nature of recovery. My guess is that it is more common than not for addicts and that all the possibilities above are valid in various portions, depending on the specific trigger that ruffles the feathers of peace.

During a 12 Step meeting yesterday afternoon, I checked-in that I've been feeling good for enough days in a row that I was starting to worry about that bad day lurking around the corner. It's as if I was predicting things going wrong, and I showed my insecurities and self-doubts about my deserve-ability to feel good for more than a few days at a time. I hate this. Hate it.

Less than thirty minutes after that meeting, I went downstairs to fix dinner for my wife. I thought we had pre-agreed upon this plan of being her chef this week because she had anticipated several long days at work.

My first lousy reaction was to her putting the brakes on everything I was about to do so she could decompress a few minutes before supper. Since I was the one fixing, I wasn't sure why this was needed, but okay. We sat down and watched another SVU episode.

When I got up to fix dinner, she joined in. I took her participation to mean she didn't trust me to do it right. I'm sure that was just her wanting to do this together, but I had a plan, and it didn't include two cooks in the kitchen. I finally got her to let me do it, and as she went back to rest, she made sure I knew how to do stuff, and that she didn't want it done the way I was doing it. She is on a special diet for health reasons, and her points were valid, but that didn't keep me from jumping on the untrusted pity party of I-can't-do-anything-right. I immediately went from upbeat after an excellent day to feeling like crap because I couldn't fix a simple meal without screwing it up.

I tried hard not to go all passive-aggressive about it, but I don't think I succeeded because I'm still out of sorts about it this morning. She is again in the midst of a long, hard day of work, so it isn't the time for a poor-John conversation. I'm hoping that putting these words in the computer will help me see how stupid this is; I'm supposed to be better than this.

Maybe that's the rub. Everyone is supposed to be better than that, but a lot of us just aren't. That doesn't make me a bad person, but it does put me back to looking at my defects and reviewing my 12 Step work because skills and understandings exist that can help me be better, act better, and grow more toward the person I want to be.

My wife has been so great since my dinner debacle. I know she's seen this pattern enough that she is not oblivious to it. She complimented my cooking several times last night, and today has thanked me multiple times already for helping her with the project that has her so occupied this week. Yet, here I sit, still whining to myself and tending to my frayed feelings.

I'd love to finish this entry with some wise words of wonder about another discovery on Recovery Road, but I'd prefer just to stop feeling like a crappy failure and rehashing the shame of me. I think I'm pretty much over the perceived slights of my wife's unintended discouragements of yesterday. Now, I have to get over having been reminded that I'm not nearly as far down this road to recovery as I keep thinking I am.



Been through the wars and I can show you the scars

Still on the road, I'm still on the boulevard

They should've told you that I glow in the dark

Oh yeah

–Skepta, Wizkid, Lay-Z, “Glow In The Dark”



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