Bella’s Birthday is coming up

I know that my t-shirt can’t actually be choking me as I wear it, but that’s what it feels like. Like I can’t breathe. Bella’s birthday is coming up and I will not be allowed to be present. Again.

My Bella love was born on Friday the 13th, the same day that her birthday falls on this year. She is 5. This is the 3rd birthday that I have missed. 

When she was 3, X and I were already separated and I was struggling with my alcoholism. I chose not to go to the party because I was drunk and did not want to make a scene. I cannot remember if there was a protection order in place that year or not, but I do remember that I was granted access to her 3rd birthday party. 

When she turned 4, I was not allowed to be present as we were definitely in the confines of a protection order. I know that I was not drunk during the time of this party, but I may have gotten drunk soon before or after. 

This year the protection order has been extended for a 3rd year. I have no idea why. X thinks she is protecting Bella and herself from me. I marvel at the injuriousness that comes from X. I have never been one to spread negativity or hurt others. And even at my most ill, I never intentionally harmed another human, yet alone going back for repeated harm. So I am, yet again, not allowed at my daughter’s birthday. It is tearing me apart inside. I cannot recall a worse depression.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed daily. The few times that Angie has visited and helped me smile and laugh, my face has hurt from not smiling and laughing for so long. I have not taken a drink over this yet. It is my plan to continue on this path. I consistently do the next right thing like eat, sleep, go to meetings, even the gym sometimes. I cannot remember the last time that I ate because I was hungry. Nearly all of my eating is emotional at this point. Each morning when I wake I look forward to the moment when I can get back in my bed. This morning when I got up, I found myself looking forward 2 days to my day off when I can stay in bed all day. 

All that being said, I do make attempts to care for myself to the best of my current abilities. I take my medication every day on time and without fail. I sleep 7-8 hours a night during my work week. I go to work. This has allowed me to pay child support payments for 6 months and counting. I eat the food that is given to me as part of my recovery program and housing. I speak with my Lawrence sponsor and my Wichita sponsor daily. I speak with the heart of my soul multiple times a day. And when I do get to stay in bed, I read, both fiction and non. I write.

I am angry. I still blame. I have made progress and continue to do so. There is bitterness in my heart about the things I am missing that I will never get back while I sit here sober, doing the next god-damned right thing. I suppose when mental illnesses come into conflict, the stronger, possibly more sick one will present it’s will over the other. I don’t do good and bad or winners and losers. I am not a fighter. I am a very passionate yet passive person. I will never defend myself. I prove myself to no one. This allows for rampant gaslighting and bulldozing for those who perceive lack of power and therefore exert it upon another. For me personally, showing up to this kind of school yard conflict would send me farther into a tailspin that would be ignorantly recorded and used later to hurt me more.

None of this takes the pain away. Knowing that I continue to do what is best for me relieves no pain. It takes away zero anger. It contributes to the flatness of my current life while elders and mentors cheer me on because all you need it time they say. Sobriety and time. 

So Bell is 5. This is the 3rd birthday I have missed. One due to my alcoholism that I take full responsibility for. The other two have been taken from me against my will. This does not set well with me.