I found myself engaging in a fantasy world. One where consequences did not exist. It was my escapism. The definition of escapism: the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.
For three months, I thrived in my new environment. I enjoyed my new job. My ego was fed by men, my emotions were leveled out, and my spirit was nourished by church along with my angelic tarot cards I read daily, and my psychic reading appointments (I did not take it seriously, it was another muse). I loved my local church (12 Stone), it had a wonderful children's program. If I was not dragging my kids to church, I was taking them with me to my AA meetings.
I was not involved in my sober living program. I did the basics to keep a bed. I had a new sponsor. It was one of my very first roommates, Janice. She tried her best to keep me engaged and to work through the steps, but I had no desire. Previously, I had worked the steps, was dedicated to my morning meeting, and weekly meetings with my sponsor. But, after the last relapse, I felt the 12-step program was not for me. I clearly was missing a piece to the puzzle or not working it properly.
In hindsight, the program was not the problem, nor my sponsor or the meetings I attended; I was my own conundrum. If something made me feel pain and discomfort, I would run. It was a well-known theme in my life. If only I could get away, my circumstances would change, and my life would magically become better. The problem was I could not run from myself. I tried changing my address, my hair, my routine, my diet, and my friends. I was always left feeling empty. I was on a hamster wheel-going round and round and round. I did not want to get off. It was too scary. If I continued going around the merry- go- round filling it with unhealthy distractions and fantasy play; I remained "safe." To face the unacceptable parts of myself and others frightened me.
I began looking for an apartment. The search was on to create a new healthy life with my babies. The only problem was ...I would need to go back home to save money for a new place. One day, I impulsively made the decision to go back. I packed my things in my car and headed back to Buford, Georgia. Eric was fine with it. We were getting along and missed our familiar comfort zone. I assumed he had spent his weekends looking for a casual 'mate'; while I spent my early weekday mornings in a high-rise business building. My ego was feeding off of false gratification-not love. It feeds off of fear, doubt, and pain. I was drowning in it. I could not manifest love, happiness, and success without God. I was good at pretending I was okay. I wore the mask very well. I had worn that mask my whole life. Instead of expressing my feelings, I remained quiet. Locked in my thoughts. I was excellent at dissociation (It is the disconnection or separation of something from something else or the state of being dis-connected). When things around me made me feel discomfort, I wanted to be invisible as I dozed off in my own daydream.
As July 4th approached, I was traveling to the Keys. I had never been before, I was ecstatic. It was a new adventure and a new adrenaline rush. I was scheduled to go sky-diving and deep-sea fishing! I was a bit nervous because the thought of staying in the Florida Keys sober horrified me. A suggestion had been given to take the Naltrexone pill. It blocks the 'feel good' feelings alcohol causes and reduces cravings. I denied the pill. I felt like I had my sobriety under control. I was very stubborn and always wanted to do everything my way. Once I arrived at the airport, the craving for alcohol emerged. It is the worst feeling in the world. I could not control my thoughts. I wanted wine. vodka. I wanted to let loose and party. I wanted to run away from the stress of my responsibilities. I wanted to quite the voices in my head. I wanted relief. As I sat in the Delta Sky Club, I debated ordering a drink. Would it be okay-just this one time on my mini-vacation?
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