I think this page sums up what I feel about his recovery:
I am hoping to see more ‘resistance.’ More words that don’t sound like someone else’s book. More actions that jive with focused personal progress. Growth. Mindfulness. Awareness. Awake.
I wonder how much bullshit I am quoting? How close I am able to look?
We are all deluded, to one degree or another. Some delusions cause more pain, more panic, more pandemonium. More cruelty and destruction, than others.
I hope mine are of a more benign kind. Until I let myself get hurt. Until I get caught up in trusting someone who I likely should never have trusted. Had I the wisdom of hindsight. Had I the practice. Had I the wherewithall to demand better treatment for myself and not settle for dismissal, cold shoulders, odd statements, sexual rejection, and a general lack of choosing to meet my needs when I actually knew what I wanted, and stated it. That is not being picky. That is not taking something too personally. That is not being overly sensitive.
That is knowing how not to be diminished. How to not be gaslighted. How to stand up for my needs, and if he wasn’t, or isn’t, willing or able to meet them, then knowing what I won’t accept. And choosing not to accept any less than what I really, really want.
I wonder how much I am afraid to look. Maybe because I do look, and there is such a thing as over analyzing, to the point of paralyzing. A manipulative addict would take full advantage of that. I would like to look. I would like to have a partner, someone who can call me on my bullshit. But that means I would have to place trust, faith, in their perceptions of me, of the world, of people and events.
Guess I am pretty much on my own with this one. I end up defending myself against addict thinking rather than having real discourse. Maybe, now and then, but maybe it is just another book doing the talking. The meaning seems to evaporate when he is pressed for content, for context, for personal insight.
I am tired of being manipulated. I am tired of feeling used. I am tired to watching someone go through the motions. If suicide attempt isn’t rock bottom, I cannot fathom a situation that will suffice.
I wonder if this is my rock bottom? I am too tired to focus on it overmuch.
I wonder how I weasel out of looking any closer at my shit.
Oh well. I’m not done with this shit yet anyway.
Recovery goes on.