Still Glad It Is Not Me: The Aftermath

Talked with Greg this afternoon.  He has not used for three days.  He was clearly in heinous pain somewhere close to incomprehensible demoralization.  I gently urged him to be in the moment instead of ruminating over the past and to have some self-compassion.  He was not in a mood to be cheered up.  Our short talk was undoubtedly better than not talking.  We will talk more tomorrow.  (Technically, my time line is screwed up since I am writing this at 2:30 AM…you get the idea.)

Took Lea to the new downtown Seattle Social Security Administration building this morning.  What a nightmare that place is.  There is no parking in the building.  It is on a hill just NE of the Yesler overpass on 5^th Avenue or just south of the King County Admin building.  I did not even see any handicapped parking close by, much less find an accessible spot.  We parked down the hill halfway to Chinatown.  Lea had worked up a sweat helping me up the hill by the time we got to the front door.

There I was told I could not have the small end-wrench, crescent wrench and multitool that I always carry with me in my backpack to fix my wheelchair like I did yesterday at Bellevue Square when a bolt broke.  There was no way it was going to work to take them down the hill to my car and come back.  When Federal security confiscates metal objects, they are gone forever and can’t be retrieved.  I lost a multitool (pocketknife with pliers) that I have had for 14 years because the 3-inch folding blade was deemed too large.

Lea had a huge anxiety attack while the judge scolded her for not being ready and sternly admonished her to get a lawyer for a mere 25% of the backpay.  Petitioners are supposed to be allowed to bring a friend to help advocate for them, I was not allowed to sit by Lea until I interrupted the judge in mid-rant to ask to be able to advocate for Lea.  The system was tuned more for the benefit of the employees and with less effort to meet the needs of their constituency—the disabled seeking help.

Lea had a major meltdown when we got home in the form of a screaming self-destructive hissy fit after I asked her to move a pile of trash she had placed so that I could not get in the kitchen.  She did not make it to her psychiatrist appointment today.  We have not talked for the last 13 hours.

Today’s reading in Emotional IQ talked about a subset of people colloquially nick-named “the unflappables”.  Their body/physiology can be jacked-up on stress behavior with rapid heartrate, shallow breathing, high blood pressure, sweating, etc, but when asked what is going on, they deny having a problem.  The second sentence in AA’s How It Works, the second sentence is “Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.” 

I was concerned that might be my problem after that last round of relapsing last year.  It seems that I just needed to be more rigorously honest—thank god. The difference between having to be rigorously honest and constitutionally incapable of being honest is the difference between hard and impossible.

Lea used on Monday.  Greg last used on Saturday.  Today, neither one of them was capable of communicating with the rest of the world in a healthy productive way.  I do have compassion and empathy for them.  Most of all, I am glad it is not me.  Being rigorously is hard, scary and a lot of work.  Right now, it was well worth the effort to avoid the sort of pain they are in.

I am grateful to be sober today.   It is a lot better than how the alternatives are looking today.