melt down.

Salvadore Dali
The Persistence of Memory


i sat through my meeting last night and it was okay. yeah, just okay.

the promise they discussed the third promise, which is "we will comprehend the word serenity.” i feel a lot of things right now, and other than reciting the "serenity prayer" at the beginning of the meeting, that is as close as i have come to feeling serene.

i listened to others share their stories of serenity, how the calm overtook them at a moment they least expected adversity showed its ugly face and they were peaceful. all good stories, all true from what i gather, but serenity is elusive right now in my life.

for those of you who have migrated over from martha, martha, you know this is not an unusual state. the only thing unusual is that i hadn't had a drink in 38 days (as of yesterday).

so i meditate on this whole serenity thing (after having had a stressful day at work) on the way home from my meeting and tears come. big ole hot wet sliding down my face can't stop them if i wanted to tears. not a good time to cry as it was my husband's birthday and i would be seeing my son and daughter-in-law who were supposed to be joining us for cake and coffee. prior to going into the house, i say a prayer as i am turning off my car that i can remain calm and happy for at least the next hour. one hour at a time, right?

i did well. nobody knew of my initial melt in the car on they way home, my son was solo since his bride isn't feeling well because she is in her first trimester, which is understandable because hey, i not only work at a center for childbirth, i have been pregnant myself and understand the different phases.

it went well, right up until the very end. my son and daughter-in-law have eluded to in the past that when the baby decides it's time to arrive, that only "her mother and the staff" are allowed in the room. bear in mind: i am an OB technician - i have been present for probably 100 births both in the labor room and as a OR tech for c-sections. i have actually had patients request me. i have a calming influence and am really unobtrusive. i am professional and take great care of my patients.

last night, he confirmed it: they don't want me in the room when the baby comes.

thinking about my post from yesterday about getting over hurts, this was a tough pill to swallow. also bearing in mind my mini-melt in the car on the way home, this was adding up to a really shitty stomach ache and heart ache at the same time. with all the composure i could muster, i told my son i felt as though i was being shut out, that i couldn't believe they didn't want me there, and just said, "okay. whatever you want."

when he left, he was upset and i had a full-blown melt-down. i tried so hard to keep it in, but it came. i cried and cried and talked about it with my husband and then cried some more. i finally dried my eyes, picked up my knitting and watched Criminal Minds.

i sat and thought about what had just happened, and God reminded me of one of the phrases we have used (among staff) when it comes to crowd control during labor: "If you weren't there for the conception, you don't belong there for the delivery." if both mothers were not allowed in the room, i think i would be "fine" with it. however, because her mother is a welcomed attendee and i am being told, flat out, that i am not -- well, pride goes before a melt down.

i composed a text message after i collected myself that said "whatever you want me to do. where ever you want me to be. i will abide and respect your wishes. i will be near when or if you need me. i love you and won't bring it up again." i sighed and hit "send." while i don't think i am wrong in feeling how i feel, i just want to keep the peace. and no, it is not easy to rise above as i explained to my kids in the car this morning; maintaining peace within a relationship may be some of the hardest work you have to do.

moments later i received the "thank you mom, that means a lot. we will keep you posted about any updates. love you."

(is it any wonder why i don't feel *serene*? can anyone tell me if my entire recovery will be fraught with moments like these as a challenge to the newly-sober or if it does, actually, get easy?)

serenity feels so far away. achy is the here and now and i just keep thinking "pray, don't drink, go to meetings, call your sponsor, and read the Big Book." i am hoping that since i have been so faithful employing all of these into my daily life, that feeling serene will be coming to me sooner, rather than later.

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