Validate BOFA in The eye of every storm

Random things happen in life, unexpected and surprising. They are neither bad nor good, as there is no inherent moral value in something that just is. Today, cruising along doing my thing with my dog-walking business, I unexpectedly received a text from my Outpatient Program informing me that I am now cleared to return to work at Southwest Airlines. I wasn’t expecting it nor was I mentally prepared for it, but I know I don’t want to lose my health insurance, and certainly didn’t want my wife to after her car accident, regardless if we are currently separated (more on that later). Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and you can swing and knock it out or the park or stand there and get struck out. I’m swinging at this one.

I’m nervous, naturally. A huge part of me, who I fundamentally am, has changed, and the nervousness comes in regarding others’ expectations. The irony is they are completely out of my control, yet, here I sit, still human and still nervous. It’s not that I’m nervous about my sobriety- hell, I embrace it as part of who I am now. I don’t care how others react to it, think about it, or anything. I just know I am sober, and I’m sober for me, and that’s the end of that conversation. Recovery is about so much more than drugs and alcohol. In fact, I believe those who suffered have quite the advantage over the rest of the population; when we go to treatment, we are allowed time to really tear into our souls, to confront all of the demons and wizards that caused us to become addicts. Alcohol is really a by-product of some greater turmoil manifesting inside, some root issue of discontent that we had the opportunity to stare down into submission, to say to it, “We will not go quietly into your bullshit night.”

That’s what I’m nervous about. I’ve changed. A lot.

i talked to my wife about it- I was happy she would get United Healthcare Benefits back, and who was I kidding, I wanted so desperately for her to be proud of me. My expectation that she would be was quickly dismissed. It seemed apparent that no matter what I do in life, whether its destroy homelessness, cure cancer, or simply return back to my goal-oriented, very good job, there will always be some criticism, something I’m not doing enough of for it to be the “right” thing. Texting her on the DART system, I broke down and cried a little, because it was not met with happiness for me, but rather a reminder of everything I did wrong to even get myself in this situation. A reminder of that person that is no longer me, with facts that are no longer facts, reared its ugly head once again. It’s defeating, that feeling of being tagged with your mistakes for all of ever-lasting eternity. It’s a reminder that I’ll never be good enough. Naturally, seeking validation, I was crushed, and for ten minutes, I was destroyed.

Luckily, through my recovery, I was able to identify exactly what this was: sewing validation and harvesting an expectation. The rational side of my brain kicked in immediately, something I’ve tuned with the fine tooth comb of therapy. We’re separated. I don’t even know why I expected her to care in the first place. Going back to work is something I need to do for me, and not for anyone else. The financial stability will be a welcomed change. The flight benefits will allow me to visit my family sometime (very) soon. My days will no longer be filled with boredom (or dog-walking, something I started to alleviate the boredom and get into a shape other than oval). I’ll be able to do what I am VERY good at, and that is getting Customers and Employees to their destination through all of the obstacles of Weather, FAA, Crew sicknesses, and a million other things that try to prevent that from happening. In short, I can get back to changing lives, both my own, and others, in a very positive way.

So, I don’t NEED validation, yet, as a human with this damn feelings condition, I crave it and long for it, ESPECIALLY from the woman I love more than anything else on the entire planet (yes, even more than pizza rolls). I was hurt. The old me would’ve caved immediately, become self-defeating, and let it derail my entire week. The new me recognizes it for what it is, allowed me to pick myself up, carry on, and do what I believe is the right thing for me to do.

Am I nervous how my coworkers will react to me being back? Absolutely. Am I worried about learning all the new tricks of the trade and remembering the old ones? Of course. Regardless, this is my life, and if I don’t grab hold of it, no one else will, and life will pass me by. It’s a moment where you have to dance while the music is playing, because eventually, the song will be over. So that’s what I’m doing.

Yes, I still want validation from Katrina more than anything in the whole world. I don’t need it to move about my life, or move about the country. Does it still hurt and sting? Yes, but wounds heal. If it didn’t hurt, then something would be terribly wrong with me. I’m going to try my best not to rely on validation. I’m going to try my best to realize when I fail at others expectations, and adapt. I’m going to try to levy my own expectations with a healthy dose of balanced reality. It’s easier said than done, but I’m looking forward to the challenge and adapting where necessary. Consider me Babe Ruth pointing towards the fences because this is going to be out of the park for sure.

We do recover.

I am recovered.

Last updated September 25, 2019