Watching Paint Dry

I had planned to spend most of my day with Sam and Dean (Supernatural, duh) chasing ghosts and being chased by leviathans, but then a mob descended upon the White House. We are living so much history this year. I had that sense at the beginning of Covid: this is history happening. And the hits keep coming. So instead of hanging out with two hottie-boo-botties who kill things, I’m watching a bunch of old white people, mostly men, put forth their various positions. Yes, I’ve been watching CONGRESS for several hours now. Both chambers. It’s weird how I can get sucked into this kind of stuff. Sometimes I’ll end up on C-Span. Why not watch paint dry?

I fed my kids tonight. Healthy food. I made salmon with Israeli couscous and collards. My son won’t eat cooked vegetables so I threw a couple of carrots on his plate. He eats hardly anything and finishes fast. We all sat at the table together for like eight minutes, which I count as success. I refrained from asking about their homework because I read in some parenting column that if you want family dinnertimes to flourish, you’ve got to avoid talking chores or homework or other annoying-to-kids topics. These topics are also annoying to me. But I am compelled to visit and revisit them daily. This homeschool bullshit—one of Covid’s many delights. Anyway, we were all at the table together and then after they had gone and I sat there finishing my plate alone I missed them a little but more than that I had a feeling of satisfaction, like just now I did something right.

I talked to a new girl today who wants me to sponsor her. She approached me about a week ago and then never got back. I don’t chase down my girls but I gave her one text and one call. She has two other friends that also need sponsors but I’m like hot damn girl, I’ve already got three, so she makes four and that’s a handful. I don’t like to say no to women who find me because when people come into your life there’s a reason. But that doesn’t mean I have to sponsor every woman who approaches me; I can still be there for them by forming a bridge to some other woman who might be able to fill the role. Sometimes people come into your life to teach you boundaries.  

Sponsoring has transformed my program. I am stable enough to be a rock for other women—me! When I started this journey into recovery I had lost my fourteen-year marriage, my home, my two children, my work, my physical health, and my sanity. Here I am, a little over two years later, working with women who are now where I was. I have a job. An apartment. A car. I’m about to have health insurance. I take my meds. And most importantly, my kids stay with me three nights a week. So many of the women I know in recovery are just devastated over their kids. Some are in and out of court. Some have lost custody; others have voluntarily given them up. Some are battling their exes with the children in between. Some don’t get to see their children at all. I understand that we, as alcoholics and addicts, have our work cut out for us when it comes to putting Humpty together again. There is a trail of wreckage behind us. This splitting of the mother from the child is one of the rotten fruits of this sickness.