Magical Thinking. Friend or foe?

Well I'm back, and just to get the pre-functionals out of the way, I'm 13 months sober and on my eighth step. Are we happy now? Oh, I don't mean to be non plussed about my sobriety, it's a miracle, I'm so grateful, yadda yadda yadda.

It's just, well, sobriety is sort of my normal state now. When I first started this blog I had only 69 days sober. (69, snicker) And while my lessons haven't stopped, my obsession to drink has been soundly lifted. So I have to remind myself DAILY that this wasn't always so. Once upon a time, Ingenue couldn't stop drinking no matter how hard she tried. Or how bad it got. Once upon a time, Ingenue was convinced she couldn't make it to 90 days sober. Because this girl forgets all too easily.

These days it's my life, and not my hangovers, driving me BATSHIT. Every time I think I have my plan of attack together, every time I think I have perfected my outside appearance of competence, something else (usually of a professional nature) happens and knocks me right back into the crazies. I'm actually really happy with the way things turn out, in the end, but I just haven't really felt balanced or sane for (hmmm) months now? Is this something I should be concerned about?

It's work. The actively alcoholic version of Me picked out the single most stressful job I could have imagined some 13 months ago. I wanted the paycheck, the uniqueness of being a young female in a man's industry, and the outside perks that I thought I couldn't live without. So whilst still in my alcoholic manipulative abilities I managed to talk my way into this position. And I did so with the best of intentions! Suffice it to say, this job is actually a tremendous amount of work, and I struggle with myself daily to not throw in the towel. I'm far more capable than I've ever let myself express on a consistent basis. And now my life is demanding that capability from me.

Enter the Magical Thinking epidemic. I really didn't know there was a name for what I had, but there is and as long as I can remember I've always, ALWAYS been a magical thinker. I've been reading Cosmo Bedside Astrologer since I'm like, eight years old. And believing evewry word of it! But far more importantly, shit like the Secret, and manifestations and all that....that stuff gets me. Because I DO believe my thoughts become things and I think some pretty sinister shit.

It's really AstrologyZone that fucks me up the worst though. Susan Miller really puts me through it. Last month in the November horoscope for Gemini she called out the full moon on December 12th as being a uniquely horrible and unexpected disaster sort of day. So six weeks ago, I started to quietly panic. I had big shit scheduled for Decembr 12th! I had a liscensing, and talks with the Bosses scheduled! WTF?!?!?! And more importantly, was there any conceivable way to innoculate myself against said Uranus/Saturn conjuction? Was this the sort of thing that major affirmation therapy can counteract or was I just a sitting duck?

It really only got worse from there. Everytime I tried to convince myself that I wasn't taking it that seriously, something would catch my attention and I would convince myself it was a foreshadowing of this awful upcoming full moon. In fact these little things would convienently manage to pop up whenever I was most desperate to avoid the reality of the work sitting right in front of me. Mayhaps an addicitive personality should not be trusted with the belief that she can access advance knowledge of her future, eh? Maybe, just maybe, this throws off the whole one day at a time thing. For this alcoholic, anyways, the zodiac has become a real avoidance therapy.

Sober life is so fast moving! Everything's always growing and shifting and changing these days, and my reliance on horoscopes has always been an attempt to get a strong grip and ride it out. (And I was relying on horoscopes long before sobriety, but whatever). The point is, things that worked for me in my drunken girlhood, don't always work for me in sobriety.

I'm getting the idea that my online horoscope addiction is yet another thing to be chucked into the DO NOT TOUCH UNLESS YOU LIKE THE IDEA OF RELAPSE pile. There's work to be done, and it's meant to be done between my HP and I. So my prayer:

God,
I am utterly powerless over my addiction to online astrologers and soothsayers. And while it may not seem like a big deal, I don't like the fear and the free floating anxiety it encourages in me. I don't like the time I spend searching through 13 horoscopes for one that makes me feel better. I used to think you spoke to me through online horoscopes, but now I'd rather find another way for us to communicate. This is getting too weird and painful. I can't seem to break this habit, but I know that you can relieve me of it. Please do!

Amen,
Ingenue

P.S. I'd also love to be a non-smoker, a size smaller, and the single best super in my company. But, all in good time. All in good time.