I’m very bad at being angry. In fact –usually when I start to get mad, I get upset with myself that I’m mad, and then I think I’m being too hard on myself, so I get sad that I’m being so self-defeating, and in return I start to cry, and then get angry because tears are splashing down my cheeks.
Part of recovery, I’ve discovered is getting very mad. It’s not a part I enjoy and it’s not something I like to admit, but if I’m being honest with everyone and trying to rid myself of all of my negativity –I’ve got to lay it out there.
As mentioned a few days ago, I’ve started a new friendship with T (read about him here). It’s been encouraging for the process to have a non-gay (hey, it’s a rarity in the city), male friend who will be there for me to talk to. He’s easy to get along with, easy to look at, and even easier to be around. We haven’t known each other very long, but we’re comfortable and open –and because we both know a relationship is off the table, there is absolutely no pressure.
He’s working up his grand gesture to his ex-girlfriend and he has been running his ideas by me. It’s been entertaining and inspiring to help him with a romantic presentation that will certainly (fingers crossed for him) win her back.
I really don’t mind helping him and I really do want to be his friend. But, at the end of the day, I started asking myself: “Why hasn’t anyone done this for me?”
Partly because I’m trying to rid of these negative questions and attitudes towards love and partly because it frankly just frustrates me –I got mad. I got upset. I left the office in a huff, wondering what was wrong with me.
“I’m a 22-year-old, 5’4” (but usually 5’7” because of my high heel obsession), in shape (and with a shape) woman. I’m independent, self-supporting, and ambitious, yet I like to be needed and to need someone. I landed a job and an apartment within the first three weeks of moving to NYC and I can hold an intelligent conversation. I’m not exactly funny, but I think I’m rather charming. I’m not a model, but I think I was given beauty. I volunteer because I thoroughly enjoy it, not because I have to, and I would bake cookies every single day if I could afford it or had the time. I tend to be a pretty good listener, I can get along with almost any type of personality, and while I’m a planner, I also enjoy adventures. Did I mention I’m from the South, which makes me super sweet, friendly, and courteous, too?
Why hasn’t someone noticed? Why am I not good enough for someone? What the hell is wrong with me? Where is my grand gesture?!”
After a surprisingly easy three mile run, I still wasn’t over my anger. In fact, while attempting to talk to my parents, I ended up getting so frustrated that I had to end the phone call after it barely got started. I sincerely couldn’t take my mother saying “It’s all about timing, dear.”
Of course it’s about timing. Of course I have to patient. Of course I have to let it all play its course in perfect rhyme and rhythm, and have faith that all is unfolding as it should. I’m trying very hard, I really am –I’m giving this recovery every bit of energy I have.
But still, last night, I ended up in sweatpants, my favorite sweater with three crumpled napkins by my computer, and dipping a large spoon into my jar of peanut butter.
Am I still making progress?
Yes. I allowed myself to get upset. I allowed myself to cry (for the first time since this blog started). I allowed myself to get very mad and have all of those negative thoughts. I allowed them to come and to leave, and after I was finished with my temper tantrum, I sought advice from my two sponsors, M and J, who gave me some words of encouragement and kindness. I then sat down to write this blog, with a container of pudding (I’m being honest, here), and admitted my level of anxiety.
Single can suck. Single can be incredibly difficult. Single can making you get down on yourself and ask a million questions you will never find answers to –even by reading this blog, searching online, or reading self-help books. Single is part of the journey and it can be a major pain in the ass sometimes.
But I can’t (and neither can you) beat yourself up for hating it sometimes. No matter what step I’m at in the program, how confident I am, or how much self-love I build up –I’m always going to have hard days. I’m always going to have a moment of jealousy, a time of insecurity, and nights where all I want to do is be held.
As one of my sponsors, J, said: “This is all normal.”
The only thing that’ll change is my reaction to being upset and the time it takes to let go of it. Last night, it took from about 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Three hours isn’t too awful, but eventually, I’ll be about to calm myself down faster and more lovingly.
I also, hopefully, will learn not to keep peanut butter at arm’s reach. That probably wasn’t such a great idea.