What it’s like now
Feelings assault me now like sniper fire, bullets ricocheting off their unsuspecting target, slicing open my cheekbone, my hip, red, angry slashes. I’ll be blissfully gliding along and BAM, I’m hit, and I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m irrational. I’m out of control.
Control, the loss of it, is probably the most familiar one these days, the parent to all of these other unfamiliar sensations. I am clumsy with feelings. I can’t hold them, whether bullets or bombs, it’s all live ammunition; I fumble, they drop and smash and scatter, hitting everyone around me. I myself am a walking wound, open and stunned.
I’m told, though, that there are no good or bad feelings. That I’m not supposed to judge them, I’m supposed to invite them in for coffee, get to know them, no matter how hostile and unfamiliar they seem. But guilt–ah, guilt!–is an old familiar friend. I carry so much guilt—for the terrible things I’ve done, the shameful places I’ve been, the innumerable ways I’ve hurt the ones I love most. Now the guilt feels more pure and raw, with nothing to blot it out.
And then the rage hits, the self-righteousness, the resentment, the yes, but and the what about. And maybe I’m walking down the sidewalk or maybe I’m driving in my car or maybe I’m lying awake at 3am and BAM, suddenly, I can’t control what I’m feeling. I can’t think my way out of it, can’t reason it out, can’t puzzle out what’s next, can’t figure how to fix it, can’t bring it back to me, can’t breathe through it, and it’s terrifying.
And then there’s this other new thing, this thing that doesn’t make sense, this calm. This subtle sliding and clicking into place as I walk through the rooms of my life “first straightening the rugs,” as a friend of mine says. Because I’ve always thought it so weird that I’m a Virgo. Virgo’s are notoriously neat, clean and organized, and I have not been. My house has so often been messy, I procrastinate terribly at work, I’m broke and anxious and (able to go on and on.) But, not anymore. I look around now and I blink stupidly at all this tidiness; books aligned on shelves, floors mopped, spice labels facing front at attention. My oil changed, my assignments completed early, my bank account suddenly black, its red wounds miraculously healed. My husband smiling, my children laughing, each of my brain cells stretching and purring like a cat. There’s only been this one change, this one basic, vital, gut-wrenching change, and every other single thing in my life has fallen to its knees in quiet, obedient reverence. Without me raising my sword, without me making a list or a plan, without me reading a stack of books about how to make it so. And I’m astonished.
And yes I get angry—new, and scary, but clean. And yes I get scared—new, and scary, but clean. And yes I get brutally honest—new, and scary, but clean. Because I also get happy, now, joyous, even, and while terrifying, it’s the cleanest I’ve ever felt, a spick-and-span soul, a core clicked into place, an energy whirring and humming along as it should be, through no doing of my own. My life a beast that cannot, should not, be wrangled, tamed, steered, one that’s happiest if I simply let it run as I hold on tight, but not too tight, close my eyes against the force of it and ride.
Darlene says:
And so is life at it’s most beautiful, fullest, deepest, darkest, brightest and BEST. No more will you need the numbness from the past you are experiencing life with all of it’s pain happiness fear love cleanliness and on and on and on. It is hard it is suffocating even but it is yours. The biggest hugs I can send via the internet miss maggie you have begun to live.
February 28th, 2010 at 9:52 am
Issa says:
This is going to sound very strange, but I get all of this. The emotions can feel like they are smothering you at times. Then there are times of peace. I’m so proud of you Maggie. Truly. Hopefully each day gets a bit easier. Soon there will hopefully be more peace.
February 28th, 2010 at 9:56 am
angelynn says:
You continue to be an inspiration. I admire your honesty about the good and bad of this ride. To see all of this through your eyes has helped it become clearer for so many. Thank you for your words, your commitment and for speaking up.
February 28th, 2010 at 9:56 am
Overflowing Brain (Katie) says:
This is potentially one of the most amazing pieces of writing I have ever read. What you’re doing is amazing and the way you’ve let us into your life and your fears is, well, I don’t even have a word for it. It seems wrong to call your life and fears magical, but you’ve written them in a way that leaves me speechless (despite this long paragraph).
It may not mean a whole lot, but I’m so incredibly impressed by you, in so many ways.
February 28th, 2010 at 9:56 am
ally (adil320) says:
I am so proud of you. You are doing an amazing job of healing yourself…and you are doing a great service by doing it for all of us to see.
hugs
February 28th, 2010 at 10:01 am
Mr Lady says:
Virgos have issues with tidiness, not that they are necessarily tidy. Big difference.
You’re doing just fine, baby. You have to have crooked rugs sometimes, because straightening them feels so good, once you get it.
February 28th, 2010 at 10:01 am
Ellie says:
“My life a beast that cannot, should not, be wrangled, tamed, steered, one that’s happiest if I simply let it run as I hold on tight, but not too tight, close my eyes against the force of it and ride.”
Oh, I love this. This imagery crystalized a lot of stuff for me. I get into trouble when I try to tame the damn beast. Every time. When I let go and ride where it takes me – good or bad – things click along as they are meant to, not as I want them to.
I’m going to hang on to this image, to help me when I’m trying to control. A friend of mine in recovery said that the inability to let go “is like throwing in the towel and hanging on to a corner of it. Just in case.”
Thank you for this. Your writing always leaves me breathless. Just beautiful.
-Ellie
February 28th, 2010 at 10:08 am
ubiescaelum says:
Yes! I am in a parking lot reading this on my phone. I have to respond because this resonates so deeply. When I put down the drink I had no idea what I was getting myself into. They told me “good news is, you’re getting your feelings back; bad news is, you’re getting your feelings back.” I thought I would drown those first months, then one morning I woke up and that calm you describe stayed almost all day.
Two years later it’s a constant. I laugh more joyously than I ever thought possible about things that would have had me curling into a ball of shame and guilt before. I am so happy for you. This path is glorious, because its our lives out loud without censor.
February 28th, 2010 at 10:08 am
marymac says:
Amazingly written, brave, honest.
*hugs*
February 28th, 2010 at 10:12 am
Jennifer S says:
Beautiful, you. Beautiful you.
February 28th, 2010 at 10:12 am
Lisa Rae @ smacksy says:
So eloquently put. I know the only way out is though and there’s always another side to the good and the bad. And that’s all great news.
I continue to be thrilled for you with the road you’re choosing.
February 28th, 2010 at 10:18 am
Mojo,NC,USA says:
It’s okay to feel what you feel girl. And yes, invite them in, get to know them. Find out where they come from. Have yourself a nice conversation. And then let them go on their way. Even the ones you wish would stay longer. They’ll be back, never you worry. The wanted and the unwanted. The ones you want will stay longer next time because they feel welcome. The ones you don’t want will leave quicker next time because they’ll feel this is no place for them.
It’s a process. Just like cutting your hair makes it grow. It’s counter-intuitive, but it’s true.
Love you lots, sis. And I’m so happy for you I can’t even find words.
February 28th, 2010 at 10:19 am
Kelly says:
Maggie, I’m not in any shape right now to give you words of encouragement like so many others did above, or offers of support.
Instead, I’ll just say that you amaze me – your honesty and your ability to do THIS, one of the hardest things ever, and then write about it so eloquently.
Keep going, girl. You deserve years to come of happiness and feeling.
February 28th, 2010 at 11:09 am
Nicole says:
Take in and savor each one. You’ll more fully enjoy the good and be all the more grateful when the bad ones have seen the door.
Tackle only the things you can control and let the rest take their course. Focuson those beautiful things that you’ve been allowed to rediscover.
And just keep on keepin’ on. If anyone can find a way through all the chaos of it, it’s you.
February 28th, 2010 at 11:21 am
Tricia (irishsamom) says:
Amazing. You find the words that I cannot. Thank you : )
Tricia xx
February 28th, 2010 at 11:40 am
Corinne says:
You nailed every last bit of everything that comes along with recovery.
It’s a bitch.
But in a good way at the same time. I told my husband today that I felt awful for not knowing what the next minute would bring, emotion wise, and thanked him for being on this ride. Because it’s crazy, and not just for me, but for everyone around. My 3 year old is, I feel, feeding off of it. Our good days are amazingly good. But our bad days are horrific.
I keep hearing it gets better. But today, on this good day, it’s pretty good already.
Thank you for your continued honesty. Thank you.
February 28th, 2010 at 12:12 pm
Deb says:
Rooting for you, for us all, to have the continual strength to hold the brush steady regardless of the color needed, to have access to the whole spectrum, the whole color wheel. xoxox
February 28th, 2010 at 12:28 pm
Sunny says:
*huge hugs*
xoxoxoxo
February 28th, 2010 at 12:33 pm
starrlife says:
I am so happy for you! I say that again…. reading this brings me joy.
February 28th, 2010 at 12:48 pm
sarah says:
I understand. And after reading this I don’t really know what more to say….Im rendered somewhat speechless, but in a good way! But I UNDERSTAND! thank you!
February 28th, 2010 at 1:02 pm
Lisa Rae @ smacksy says:
Just read this and thought of you… and me… and all of us.
This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
- Rumi
February 28th, 2010 at 1:19 pm
racheld says:
Through the wellspring of your wordflow, it feels as if I’ve ridden that same fast beast as well, hanging on to your waist, your flying hair whipping my cheeks, breath held and lungs screaming, eyes closed and riding into the new, scary CLEAN. There’s a pure heat in these syllables which bores into the reading eye and brings light behind the dark.
And you’ve taken us all IN, into the secret chamber, we of the KNOWING, we privy to the secret words which you carved out of your heart and sent out before.
This post will stand, for it holds a truth that anyone can recognize as their own story, their own needful thing. It’s a parable, a legend or an allegory, a one-size-fits-all, cut-it-to-fit-your-cloth telling that transmutes into whatever Heart-Freight needs lightening.
Any reader will be able to take your journey and your ride and make it theirs. They can translate these words into a narrative of their OWN rough beast, of their own life’s travail. And they can land in the same scary, new CLEAN place.
For not once, not in a whisper, do you mention the name of the burden that you’re working to lay down. And yes, you HAVE raised your sword—HIGH. I can see its flame from here.
February 28th, 2010 at 1:47 pm
flutter says:
This is good, Maggie. This is very good.
February 28th, 2010 at 2:29 pm
Kate says:
I’m so happy for you. You’re an inspiration. It’s all so authentic, isn’t it?
February 28th, 2010 at 3:24 pm
C says:
Wow – found your blog only a short while ago…and…wow. Powerful. Stay strong!!!
Peace to you……..
February 28th, 2010 at 3:54 pm
Ms. Miller says:
What they said, times ten. I adore you, Dammit. Truly. xo
February 28th, 2010 at 4:26 pm
Gretchen says:
Thank you and amen. I see it and feel it and am amazed.
Keep at it, and I will too.
February 28th, 2010 at 4:41 pm
moonspun says:
Your way with words, with the subtle and not-so-subtle complexities of emotions completely blows me away. Not just what you are going through, but the amazing way that you articulate it. And the fact that you share it.
Thank you.
February 28th, 2010 at 6:19 pm
Ann says:
I love that you are honoring ALL the energy. It is all part of you, and flowing through you and this way..none of it gets stuck–clogging things up and slowing things down.
I am wowed by you, my friend.
Wow.
February 28th, 2010 at 6:55 pm
Sadie says:
Powerful.
Thank you,
Sadie
February 28th, 2010 at 7:16 pm
frelle says:
Thank you for the look into how you feel as you go through your day, how different it is from the way it was before. For how you write and what you say. For trusting yourself and us.
February 28th, 2010 at 8:32 pm
krista says:
i used to think i could only write if i had a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes at my side.
i can’t say i understand your struggle. but i can say i understand your words here.
and they’ve stuck with me.
(in a good way, of course. sort of like my favorite lotion.)
February 28th, 2010 at 9:53 pm
Elizabeth (@claritychaos) says:
“If you hold on to the handle, she said, it’s easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.” – one of my favorites by Brian Andreas at Story People.
I’m glad your feeling. And don’t doubt for a second that this whirring and humming is most definitely by your doing. You did it, Maggie. You’re doing it. So proud of you, friend.
xo
February 28th, 2010 at 9:54 pm
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo says:
So very proud of you babe.
Your strength, breathtaking.
February 28th, 2010 at 11:52 pm
Zoeyjane says:
I had no idea how feelings were going to feel until they were born and then I quickly wished I’d aborted. 102 days later, I’m happy, I’m confused, I’ve got a bit of a headache, and my anger is authentic – not just owing to control being removed.
It feels like a ride that I don’t want to get off, anymore, but before, I was too scared to even stand in line.
You’re kicking butt, woman. x
March 1st, 2010 at 12:49 am
nic @mybottlesup says:
dammit woman, you are strong.
YOU. ARE. STRONG.
March 1st, 2010 at 6:39 am
MommaKiss says:
I’ve been thinking about you – and I’m jealous of your clean house :p
maggie, dammit Reply:
March 2nd, 2010 at 12:55 pm
Well, it’s not THAT clean. Poetic license.
March 1st, 2010 at 9:30 am
muskrat says:
a continued “best of luck” to you…
March 1st, 2010 at 2:01 pm
Lotta says:
Beautifully written, and deeply understood.
March 1st, 2010 at 3:26 pm
Bennie says:
Oh. My. Higher Power. Our lives continue to intersect so incredibly that it is almost unbelievable. Please e-mail me and we will talk…of sobriety and fears. BTW, I’m also a Virgo!
March 1st, 2010 at 11:26 pm
Quadelle says:
What a powerfully evocative post. You’ve captured so much. Thank you for sharing.
March 2nd, 2010 at 1:49 am
Quadelle says:
What a powerfully evocative post. You’ve captured so much. Thank you for sharing.
March 2nd, 2010 at 1:49 am
Postmarc says:
I echo all the encouraging words above me and more, and am grateful that you chose to share the progression of emotions both raw and deep with all of us.
I also get a little chuckle out of noticing that on your masthead, there are three books above the “e” in fine that are not straight.
maggie, dammit Reply:
March 2nd, 2010 at 12:54 pm
You know what else? I’m not sober in that picture. I think it might be time to update my header, heh.
March 2nd, 2010 at 6:43 am
maggie, dammit says:
Thank you all, so much, for continuing to sit inside this with me. To bear witness. I appreciate it more than you know.
March 2nd, 2010 at 1:11 pm
pamela ~ the dayton time says:
This makes me smile for you.
March 2nd, 2010 at 8:07 pm
domestic extraordinaire says:
This. Brought tears to my eyes.
You are incredibly strong for not only staying clean but putting it all out there for us to read and support you through it.
xo
March 3rd, 2010 at 9:41 am
Naomi says:
You are describing the everyday life of so many people. What a way to put into perspective how deep just everyday life effects us in so many different ways! Can I say ditto, I feel the same way…
March 4th, 2010 at 10:56 am
Gwen says:
The feeling of feeling: astonishing, amazing, scary.
You’re doing good.
March 4th, 2010 at 11:34 am
David Levine says:
Thank YOU Maggie for allowing us to sit inside this with you. Your courage and honesty are very inspiring.
March 4th, 2010 at 7:38 pm
Lamb says:
Your writing is beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.
Glad to hear that your bank account is back!
Lamb’s Most Recent Post: Who Are These People?!
March 7th, 2010 at 4:32 am
Chuck says:
Maggie,
All I can say is that I love you and your family and I am do proud of all you do. You can go thru life and never pick your own family, but to have the honor to be one of your friends is truly humbling! Stay Strong and keep on fighting!
All my love and respect
(From Southern Afghanistan)
Chuck
March 7th, 2010 at 10:54 pm
Meg says:
I’m so happy you’ve checked in with us here. I was wondering, and even worrying about you. Glad to see you’re still going, still working through all of this. I admire you for the strength and courage I know you possess.
March 8th, 2010 at 10:03 am
stacy di says:
thought about you today…had to come by your site and catch up a bit.
sending hugs your way…
March 8th, 2010 at 6:20 pm
Gadgerson says:
This is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. It’s appropriate that I came across this on International Women’s Day…I salute you for your bravery and honesty. Cheers!
March 8th, 2010 at 10:17 pm
Titanium says:
Awareness, awakeness… this Being alive is an undomesticated wild thing. Hold it loosely, make friends with the Anger, gently. Today it is here, tomorrow gone- it is the nature of waking up.
Anger is the doorbell chime that announces Change.
All will be well, and all will be well. And all manner of things will be well.
March 9th, 2010 at 1:34 pm
Mary @ Holy Mackerel says:
You are wonderful. I am so so so proud of you, Maggie. Cyber hugging you…
March 9th, 2010 at 5:35 pm
vodkamom says:
I am walking right along side you.
xxx
March 10th, 2010 at 5:32 pm
Missives From Suburbia says:
It’s scary when things coming together are scarier than when they’re falling apart.
Did that make any sense?
March 11th, 2010 at 4:24 pm
Elisa @ Globetrotting in Heels says:
I too have never understood how I could be a Virgo. What about the mess? Ah, but the control-freak, the organizing, the need to have some things *just so*. that’s not OCD, that’s the Virgo in me coming out.
I wish she was strong enough to also make me a domestic goddess. Or at least less messy.
March 12th, 2010 at 6:08 am
Julie says:
Hey There! Well, it’s been over a month since my last drink. I waver between irrational anger and clairvoyance. I think my eyes are clearer, but introspection is not so easy all the time. See you Sunday!
March 15th, 2010 at 10:02 am
heidi says:
Have I told you that you’re awesome? You’re awesome.
March 15th, 2010 at 11:19 am
Kelli says:
Your strength & your honesty continue to amaze me. YOU amaze me. Keep doing what you’re doing, keep writing, keep sharing.
K
March 16th, 2010 at 9:16 am
aging diva says:
Maggie,
It was your blog, and the new “Violence Unsilenced” that had me begin a blog of my own for the purpose of healing from domestic violence. Before I published the blog, I sent out a message to all of my family members explaining the blog and its purpose. I said that, if any one of them objected to their first names being used, I would use fake names. No one replied. Once the blog was up, it didn’t take long to see how quickly people become defensive. Still, none of them are asking me to make changes, because, as they say, all I’ve done is told the truth. And there’s something about putting it in writing without censoring that just cuts to the chase. Like you said, feels clean. So thank you.
I’m confused as to whether this blog is still active (if so, I want to follow you), and would love to put a link on my blog to “Violence Unsilenced” with your permission.
March 23rd, 2010 at 11:07 pm
Tricia (irishsamom) says:
Maggie, you could have written this post for me. You have an amazing ability to be honest in an amazingly universal language, particularly the language of women who have been hurt, or bruised, or who somehow felt the need to suppress their true natures and who they were because that made someone else happy. My journey is so close to yours, yet so different, but I can relate to you as if though we are sitting in a room sharing coffee and our hearts. Never stop writing from your heart, because it is just that that reaches people who need to be reached.
The rest – the naysayers? I too have learnt to leave them behind, or leave them behind as much as my sensitive soul allows them to. It’s definitely a learning process for me. But, as your Violence Unsilenced Blog allows, once you can tell the truth, YOUR truth, the need to keep telling it becomes a deep longing and not telling it is too painful. You have no idea how much you have helped this one woman, without even ever having met me. And if writing about something that is unpalatable for the rest of the world, if owning it and being brave enough to take it’s darkness into the light and exposing it is too much for others – you are so right – that is their own issue, not yours. It’s liberating to become yourself. I’ve been on a long,slow painful journey these past three or four years and it’s been very lonely at times, but I couldn’t turn back now.
Thank you for being you. My blog is small and has none of the eloquence of your wonderful words, but writing it, owning it, whatever that it is for me at the moment, is empowering to me, and I’ve discovered is empowering to others too – other women who are facing the same challenges.
I hope one day to meet you in person. You so inspire me. Keep growing. Keep walking. I am proud to know you.
Hugs,
Tricia : ) xx
March 27th, 2010 at 11:50 am