Down the Rabbit Hole

Encrouching fog banks

I was excited to sign on and see I had several new email, then learned they were all reminders to update my blog instead of detailed and encouraging reviews. It has been a busy few days and I've spent most of the time recovering from a busy, drama-filled birthday weekend which featured heavy exposure to family, both mine and his, a devastating and disheartening encounter with my brother and a lovely, lazy afternoon boatride on the most perfect of summer days. I got a wicked sunburn but the aching, hot pull of my damaged skin is nothing compared to the heartsick and angry tuggings in my heart inspired by another run-in with my youngest brother. I'm not certain whether or not he's using again but the dramatic shift in his life was unexpected and that made it all the more worse. He'd been working, consistantly and seemed upbeat and borderline positive on our morning commutes together. He had even mentioned his plans to try to go back to school and seemed to be focused on making his life better. I should have know. I should have been well aware that for every up there is always a equal or greater down on the rollercoaster that is the life of every recovering addict. Its not as if I am not experienced in this sort of thing. One would have assumed, after a long and painful relationship with an alcoholic, that I'd be better prepared for the particulars of dealing with someone who's dependancy lurks, always under the surface, waiting to rise and reclaim them. And yet, it came as a shock when he called, in tears, on the morning of my 33rd birthday to tell me he'd been kicked out of yet another sober house and that he had an hour to leave and absolutely no place to go. And what did I do? Ran to the rescue again, like the devoted sister, the sickeningly enabling sister. I let his problems consume my day and temper the remainder of my night with worry and unease. The next morning however, my frustration erupted and the confrontation ended badly. I listened in shock to the dial tone after he hung up in my ear. Listening to the echo of that harsh "click", a long suppressed tide of outrage began to boil. Outrage at having been manipulated, been used, cheated and lied too...outrage at allowing myself to become another doormat for a person who could not control their demons or help themselves. The anger was welcome. Anger was the vehicle by which I have saved myself two years ago from Seth. It would be the same vehicle by which I would free myself from the guilt and burden of rushing to the aid of my brother every time a poor decision lead him back to the deadend road he'd made his landscape. Anger allowed me to enjoy my Sunday on the ocean, to enjoy my boyfriend and our sweet little dog. Anger allowed me to remember my life and my choices and my own pursuit of happiness. My own life and the wonderful potential