Weak, Scared and Vulnerable

Two months is way too long to go without posting when I'm trying to keep your attention to my blog.  I think the main reason people like to read my blog is because I'm authentic about my daily life.  This makes it hard to write when I feel especially vulnerable, because if I try to write something that's not authentic I can "feel" that it's dry and stupid and I know you don't want to read dry and stupid. 

In January I had my 9 year sobriety anniversary.  Normally, I post something about it and send it off to everyone on facebook and I get a lot of "likes" and encouraging comments.  This year I didn't post anything and I didn't go to my twelve step meeting to get my medallion.  Having self-published my book in November I was still emotionally very vulnerable and I didn't think I could handle the feedback and comments from everyone.  Why wouldn't I want all those positive comments and encouragement?  Because I still feel a heavy dose of shame for being an alcoholic.  Although I'm grateful for the support and feel blessed to have so many friends, when I'm not in the right mindset, each encouraging comment sparks my negative self-talk I've worked hard bury.  Self-talk like, "Why do you think you can overcome your past?" "Who do you think you are?"  "Your friends pity you."  "You can have 9 more years of sobriety and write ten more books, but you'll still be the same insecure, insignificant, little girl you've always been." 

Logically, I know these statements are not true.  Logically, I know I'm a child of a God who loves me unconditionally, my family is amazing, I have some of the best friends a human being has ever had, and my book is changing lives.  But emotionally, when I'm feeling especially vulnerable and afraid and weak, these voices overwhelm me and this year I did not have the strength to push my negative self-talk aside and listen to the truth. 

I was asked to tell my addiction and recovery story at a church.  It was a great opportunity and the need for information and help for addiction was evident by the conversations I had with people afterwards, but it opened my eyes to the realization that marketing my book means retelling my story over and over and over.  And retelling my story means feeling my fragile emotions over and over and over.  I would rather stay home and peel oranges with papercuts on my fingers.  But I know God rescued me from addiction in His timing.  And someone told me over the phone yesterday that my book isn't going to do anyone any good if it just sits on my shelf.  And I've almost given up my dream of being an unknown writer locked away in a cabin on a lake enjoying quiet, stress free evenings of writing FICTION!  So, I apologize for the two months of not blogging.  I can't promise it won't happen again, but I can say that I am trying to be brave and that's as authentic as I can be.