There is no "Sorry in a Box"

There is no "Sorry in a Box" Facing your own truth is not for the faint of heart. I have run from completely looking at myself my entire life. I tend to look outward at others and see their flaws as part of what makes them unique - not always, certainly, but more often than not. When my vision turns inward, I see my own flaws as my whole self. They are bigger than the rest of me and I see them as casting a shadow over the things about myself I should champion. This is part of the "Fiona Dysphoria" I described before. I don't see myself in focus, I look at me and I morph into a monster. Like standing naked under fluorescent lighting in a room whose walls are made of mirrors I see only cellulite, bulges and varicose veins. Well guess what, no one looks good when viewed in such a a fashion. It is only now as I go through the steps that I am able to look at myself realistically. I am looking at myself under a microscope and it isn't all pretty, but it is not as bad as I expected either. It isn't as frightening and it isn't as catastrophic; it isn't the lost cause I thought it was seven months ago. Fear is an interesting thing. It stops us from growing, it stops us from trying, it stops us from developing into who we ought to be. Most of my fears are manifested inside my own mind and strangely enough I have been finding that the more I face my fears the smaller they get. Their immensity turns out to be an illusion. When I look at them in the rear view mirror, I see the writing on my mirror now says, "objects in mirror are smaller then they appeared." When I considered the task of making amends for example, I was petrified. I was so afraid that I would be rejected, faced with anger, disappointment and distrust. I am still petrified when I do them, but I just keep walking through it, because once it has been done, once I have spoken my piece, it is never as bad as I had imagined. Most people want to forgive. Most people just want to understand what happened. Most people love me despite my imperfections. Similar to the feeling I get when I help someone now, I almost feel guilty for the relief and lightness I get once my soul bearing is at an end. Wether the person I have hurt or wronged accepts my words and actions or not is really almost irrelevant. Does it make it easier if they do? Absolutely, but if they don't I at least know it means I have tried, it means I am no longer carrying the weight of guilt, it means my head lifts up a little higher and my recovery gets ever stronger. The other surprise I got from this process was how many fewer I need to make that I had imagined, another illusion my fear created in my head. Not to say that I don't have plenty, after all you embark on making amends for all your wrongs, not just the ones that happened in addiction. I have 41 years of mistakes to straighten out. But what a house cleaning it is once all the shame, guilt, blame and remorse is unpacked, sorted and cleared away. It leaves room for more emotional growth, it leaves me space to become wholly Fiona, not disphoric Fiona. There are amends I can make face-to-face, some through electronic letters and notes, others by calling and still others by just living right going forward. Some people are owed money, which I am working to pay back with my new job and my part-time job. My therapist and I are at odds over this one. He is in recovery himself some twenty odd years now. He is fiercely protective of my tenuous sobriety. He looks out for me in ways that I sometimes reject but not before mulling them over thoroughly. For the two family members on my list to whom I owe money, I am not even clear they know it was stolen and certainly not by me. So he suggested I pay that money to a charity rather than going to them and acknowledging my past action. He is afraid they won't trust me. I can't adhere to that piece of advice. I won't feel right until it is paid to them and I assured him that they don't trust me now! I can't have any hope of earning back trust unless I show them some more trustworthy actions. I can't ignore the depths to which I sunk anymore, I have to see them fully so I won't return to that level of destruction. Some people I can't figure out how to make amends to but I am working on it. It will take some time and it is emotionally exhausting. I struggle, for example, over how I will go about making amends to Frank and to Dermot and to Wren or to the parents of the babysitter I drove drunk. There aren't any words I can say that seem adequate, there is no Hallmark card series I can buy that says, "Sorry for making your life a living hell." Or "Sorry for putting your life or the life of your child in jeopardy." Or even to the public at large, "Sorry for driving drunk... my bad." There is no sorry in a box. There is acknowledgment, there is good intention, there is genuine remorse, there is moving forward and doing the right thing. I have decided to try doing one thing for Frank, Dermot, Wren and a few others who know now who they are, when it comes to my history behind the wheel. I am walking in November to raise money for M.A.D.D., and I am doing it in their honor. It is the only thing that seems appropriate so far. I, at first thought the organization would want nothing to do with me given that I did precisely what they are fundraising to prevent. I decided to reach out to them because I didn't want to offend anyone who lost a loved one to a drunk driver by participating, but far from being rejected, I was welcomed enthusiastically. I hope as I move down my list of the wronged, that I provide them with piece of mind. I hope they feel vindicated in some way or at least feel acknowledged by me. The least I can do is look them in the eye and validate that their pain is real and that I caused it. I can listen to what my actions did to them and thank them for sharing what they wish. If they choose to forgive me which has happened in all cases but one, then all the better. If they don't chose to forgive me, then I chose to forgive myself.