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Monday, September 22, 2008

And the dance began...

It started like most fantasies, with lots of light, smiles and empty promises. Boy meets girl on 12-step campus. Why not. She was sober. I was sober. Seemed like a fit.

Yeah. A round peg bludgeoned into a square hole.

I had answered an ad for an office manager position with a small court reporting firm in the financial district.
Lack of experience not withstanding -the owners were taken in by my considerable charms, (duh) and they hired me. My main responsibilities were doing the books...light accounting.

I took an accounting course at San Francisco City College at night. I looked like I knew what the hell I was doing.

We moved into an apartment south of the city in a bedroom community called Mountain View. She had a five year old son. He never warmed to me. Step kids were never my strong suit.

I commuted by train, everyday, and stood on the platform, paper folded under my arm, walkman on my head, listening to the classic rock station out of the city, while I waited on the train. The commuters looked at me like I belonged, and I looked the part.

But there was an old woman who was there on the platform every morning. She never boarded the train. She just sat. And looked.

Mainly at me, and I knew, she knew I was a fraud.

I would make dinner for the boy when I got home, which was usually before she did, as she worked as a legal secretary for a high powered attorney in the big, gold, pyramid downtown. She worked late. A lot.

I thought we were happy. Or as happy as two highly dysfunctional folks in recovery could be. But something was missing. It wasn't real. It was as big a sham as P.T. Barnum ever imagined, and we said all the right things to gloss over the ugly, harsh, reality.

I'm Irish.

We can put up with something being wrong for a very long time.

No comments:

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...