Shoulda, coulda, woulda

Shoulda, coulda, woulda is my favorite game. I hate playing it, but I seem to have entered a marathon tournament that has been running non-stop since about Sun. It began as a little jousting but has been building in intensity ever since. I am hoping to concede the match this afternoon at about 1 PM. Perhaps someone will ring a cow bell? You know, like the Olympics?

Remember the lab test of last week? The results were not too impressive and the cardiologist called to invite me over for a play date. He also told me the lab results were not in the "normal" range. Well, no kidding. What have I ever said or done to encourage people to think I could be normal? Or to think I ever had even a flicker of desire to be normal?

Still, I have spent quite a bit of time admonishing myself for cheating on my diet, for not exercising as intensely , for gaining weight, for not breezing my way through all the stressful events of the past 5 months. These are all contributing factors to the sad state of my health (as confirmed via blood diagnosis). If I'm not beating myself up, I'm blaming others. What do all these mental gymnastics avail me? Not a dang thing positive, that's for sure. At least I know why the results are like this, thank the good Lord.

Last night I went to a meeting where we read literature from the recovery program ETA. One of the other women there has a crud/blood level that is more than 50% higher than mine! That is so not fair! Where are the authorities for this type of transgression?

Of course, all this jumble of emotion and reaction is based on fear. I don't want to have surgery in any way shape or form and I don't want this chronic health issue, either. And I cannot predict the path my disease will lead me to, although I have a fairly good idea. Will the old HP keep me safe? How about keep it painless? How about cure me?

I should have found time to exercise daily while my dad was dying and my mom went to a nursing facility. I should have followed my diet when mom broke her hip and we were at the hospital for 5 days and nights. If I were truly working a good recovery program, I would have been at peace with all this including the entire time my brother-in-law was gravely ill, looking at a possible heart transplant. Shoulda, coulda, woulda round #58. Cow bell. I'm guilty. I lost.

Where to go from here? Guilt is a tool - when I use it to change future behavior. After that, it becomes a weapon that I use to beat myself up with. Okay, I became focused on worldly clamors for a few weeks. I'm hardly the first person to do this. Bill W. wrote about doing this in his story located in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous". I also reverted to some old behaviors. I'm not the first person to do this either. I've done it before, I'll probably do it again. The course of the world remains unaffected by my behavior.

I'm going to start playing a different game right now. I shall exercise daily. I can start following my diet again. I will forgive myself for being human. And I have invited the old HP to take the journey with me. I know He said yes because I'm already feeling less fearful. We've been together on new paths before.

Have a good and sober day.