My Inner Boxer

First off no, this is not about getting fit and finding my power through boxing (although I would love to); nor is it about getting another dog (although I would love to do that as well)...it's about that nasty woman that lives inside my head who loves to put on her boxing gloves and kick my ass every chance she gets.  And here lately she's training for the championship.

She's always been there.  As a child of an alcoholic and a narcissist, you learn that no matter what you do it will never be good enough.  You'll never be good enough to stop daddy from picking up the next beer and as for mom - you'll just never be good enough.  So that nasty woman started as a nasty little girl and grew as I did. 

Every once in awhile I'd get my own knock-out in.  Like in my 30's when my kids were little and I was in great shape and I knew I  had found the one thing I could do better than anyone else - parent.  I KNEW, for the first time in my life that I was really, really good at being a mother.  She stayed unconcious for almost an entire decade.  Sure, she rolled over from time to time and muttered...but I knocked her upside the head and she shut up again.  Bliss.

Then came my forties...and menopause...and my mother living with us and beginning the process of dying (yes, the narcissist)...and my children growing up and becoming self sufficient.  Not only did she wake up - but she'd been working out!  She was strong!  She was powerful!  And she was BACK! 

So I did what any good ACOA would do - I started drinking more and more just to shut the bitch up.  Now don't get me wrong, I always drank in an out of control way so I really have always been an alcoholic, but until she really got to beating up on me I had it under control (yeah...right).  However, now that she just wouldn't shut up, I figured I'd get her drunk and she'd eventually pass out.  It worked.  She shut up in the evening (her favorite time to go a couple of rounds) and she was too hungover in the morning to really get any good punches in.

Now I've been sober two years and boy has she had some fun with me.  She's strong, she's loud and she just won't shut up...ever.  I am second guessing everything I do.  I can't even pray right.  When I pray I think "Don't pray for THAT!  That's so selfish.  God is not going to want to pay your bills - it's your fault you're in debt not His." Or when I try to meditate, "You can't even meditate right!  You're not supposed to have those thoughts! Clear your mind?  Hah! No way."  And let's not even get started on the extra 50 pounds I gained while trying to shut her up (sometimes carbs work as well as chardonnay you know). 

Now I've come to the conclusion that I didn't get sober right (don't blame me - it was HER idea).  That I'm not healing right.  That I'm not following some prescribed set of rules designed to get and keep you sober.  It's confusing because I AM sober and I don't want a drink.  I'm honest about missing it sometimes but there's never a day I think that a cold glass of chardonnay will make ANYTHING better.  And everyday I know that I would break not only my own heart but the hearts of my family if I picked up again.  So why won't she just shut the hell up and stop beating me up every frickin chance she gets?

Guess that's why I'm writing this blog...to figure it out.