Excuses

It’s Saturday, I am at the office. I should be doing some catch-up work. I should be blogging. I should really be writing my step four, for Narcotics Anonymous, and my sponsor. No actually, I should be writing out my step for myself, no one else.

Step four is the making of a fearless moral inventory. Start with the people who have hurt you, who made you angry, who you resent. Describe the situations. Discuss how this affects you. Confess your roll in these situations.

It’s easy enough to write these four parts down, as headings, here. It’s easy enough to write about the step in this blog. Writing this blog is just another excuse not to start on step four. Just another excuse…

Excuses. My life is so full of them. I’m always making excuses, always making room to fail by doing so. Fuck it. So, great – it’s out there – now what? Pat myself on the bloody shoulder? No, asshole – you’re sitting here, writing a blog when you should be either doing some work – you know – the thing that generates your salary. Or you should be doing step four – you know – the thing that you must complete if you want to be in any way successful, or progress. Fuck it, Dave – if you want to get anywhere just wake the fuck up!

Seventeen minutes left on the clock. Seventeen minutes of time taken from productivity so I can have this creative interlude – this farce that is just another excuse not to get better, to get done, but to wallow in self-pity and uselessness some more.

Excuses…

You know who IS going to be on my list, is Cris’ ex-wife. I resent her a lot. I am angry at her, for so much. Stuff she did to Cris, stuff she did to herself – but mostly, for the lies she spread about me, for the bullshit way she hid in her own excuses, how she told the world she was a bi-polar, when really, she was just a hypochondriac.

Excuses…

How is she different to me? I lied. I stole. I hid in my own excuses. I told the world I had cancer, and when I found out I didn’t have cancer, I didn’t tell anyone…I like the attention, I liked playing the victim. I fell from grace, from favour…

Excuses…

There are none – I fucked up. I thought the life I lead didn’t matter, because it didn’t matter to me. But it DID matter: it mattered to Cris, despite his own fails as a friend and housemate, despite the blurred lines of friendship – it mattered. It mattered to my colleagues, it mattered to my employers. It mattered to my friends, and it mattered to my family.

Excuses…

It mattered to God.

I am allowed to be angry, I am allowed to be sad, and hurt – I am allowed to feel, and to fuck up and to say sorry, and to make amends. I am not perfect, and I never will be.

THAT is not an excuse. And I will never let it be. Perfection is not a destination, nor an ideal that is healthy to aspire to. Reality, and humanity, and compassion, and being engaged in the very business of living, of taking joy in the connections I make – REAL connections – with friends, colleagues, family, strangers, life, institutions, accountability and responsibility – these are my continuing goals. Serenity and peace, my ultimate destination.

No more excuses?

That’s a big ask. Massive. I can’t promise, but I won’t let that be a reservation for failure in the future. I may fail, at not making excuses, but I won’t fail at trying. I won’t fail at living, and growing, and learning.

Step four will get done. This is part of it. So, in honour of all the REAL people, who DO suffer from bipolar disorder, here’s a little bit of humour, in the pic, below. No more excuses, eh!

© healing.me 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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2 Comments

  1. This blog post has brought the threat of legal action. What does one do, when telling the truth brings this to bear? Is the truth so scary? Yes, yes it must be – after all, I hid from it for so long. So the threat of a restraining order hangs over me for revealing the truth. The big lesson here is that step four cannot come at the expense of anyone else. They may not be ready, and besides, this is not their journey, it is mine.

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