I began pondering, as I’m known to do from time to time, about relationships. All of them. With others, self, or lack thereof.  How vulnerable can we safely be? I was told by a new friend via late night candle lit, gravelly voiced phone call that “I’m brash” and it appears that I “don’t care what other people think”. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily accurate.  Maybe for the first time in my entire thirty something years of existence – I finally, really, truly, honestly care what I think.  Perhaps, after all the time fretting over what others see,  my own opinion of me … matters.

When the hell did THAT happen?  Seemingly by surprise, smacked in the forehead with an epiphany of epic proportions.  This would sound silly to someone not in the recovery community I’d imagine; although the human population as a whole is pretty effed up.  I mean, us addicted type folks don’t corner the market on sick, that you can take to the bank.   But it seems that we have a peculiar twist that makes self esteem that much more elusive.   Think about it really, your average joe would just drown himself in the boring “don’t take a risk show” if he didn’t like himself much.  Whereas a dope fiend drunk who doesn’t dig himself may very well end up in the final three. You know. We always say it at meetings and whatnot … jails, institutions, or death.

Exhibiting chronic skepticism and mistrust of kindness with internal phrases such as, “What angle are they working?” or “What do they want from me?” or “These people aren’t kind they’re full of shit.” .  All stemming from self belief aka – what I believe to be true about me.  If I don’t like me then you surely can’t, and then we act accordingly.  Self fulfilling prophecy or some mumbo jumbo would make sense here, as we really are a product of what we send out into the universe.

I had a co-counselor from one of the treatment facilities at which I was employed, tell me something that baffled me for months.  She said something so outlandish that I choked on my falafel (it was lunchtime – shush) : “When it came to other people’s opinions of me I always thought – why wouldn’t they like me?” Now she wasn’t arrogant in any way, and people really DID like her. A lot.  Confident and kind, compassionate and self assured; she really had a slew of healthful connections in her life.  But the most important connection she had … was with herself.

What do I believe to be true about me? Silly as it sounds, it makes for a great inventory taking exercise i.e. -  stepwork yadda yadda (you know the stuff that keeps us from that final three grief. yes it’s in the books. i’m not quoting cause you’re grown folks that can read. anyway. moving along.)  People will treat me the way I view myself because I will set it up that way every single ever lovin’ time.  Through self sabotage or whatever subconscious means my magically maniacal mind can conjure up.  Be “nice” to me? Oh we can’t have that.  It feels … uncomfortable. Hackles up I back away.  Sometimes with syrupy sweetness or ballsy bitchiness; whichever is most effective at the moment.

I see this often actually.  In every recovery community in which I’ve been involved.  “It’s hard for me to let people in.”  Quite possibly that should read, “It’s hard for me to like me and you’re soooooooo not seeing that. So back off bub.”  Mysteriously this somehow goes away; little baby step increments of allowing others in corresponds with feeling just a teensy bit better about being in my own skin. No more smoke fogging up the mirror.  Slowly seeing the real me and as a result, allowing you to see too.

So, all that being “said”. Whew.  Maybe borrow a line from my friends internal book. “Why WOULDN’T people like me?” Do the suggested stepwork and address the things you can’t use anymore … like selfishness, self centeredness, fear.  Basic stepwork stuff.  You just may wake up out of your stupor and realize one day that you’re okay too.  Just the way you are.  “Warts” and all.  Sick folks getting well, not bad folks getting good.  PLUS … we have tools to address the things that simply do not fit anymore.  Not so much that these things make us horrible people; but more, behaviors that need to be taken off the shelf cause they’re blocking us.  That we’re all works in progress. And that you’re likable and human and worthy and perfectly … imperfect.  Once that happens? Oh babycakes the places you can go …