Recovery Relinquished (present): You Can’t Fake a Faker 

**F-bomb alert. I don’t know how many there are and I can’t be bothered (CBB) counting so if that word bothers you, sorry not sorry but you may want to skip this one**

I had a surgery this year. One that requires follow ups every 3 months. As the months passed by, I started feeling less and less important. Appointments were getting pushed back and my wait times to be seen for a quick exam were getting longer and longer. Responses to emails were prompt but dismissive.

Yesterday’s follow up confirmed everything I had been feeling these past few months. As I waited in the lobby, I watched the lead assistant at the front desk talk bundt cakes with another staff member and then turn around and walk into a room with the most exaggerated “hiiiiiiiiiii, how ARE youuuuu?” I spoke up about my wait and they brought me back into a room where I stayed for what seemed like forever. I should also mention I had my 2 year old daughter with me and the commute to and from was long as FUCK! As every minute passed, I became more restless, irritable and discontent. God grant me the serenity.

Now I am mad…and when I get mad and I have other shit going on in my life, sometimes I cry. The same lead assistant finally comes in and immediately hugs me and says “why didn’t you call us? We are here for youuuuu…even if it isn’t related to your procedure. You can call us anytime and vent, cry, whatever you need to do.”


“Why the FUCK would I call you people to talk about my personal problems? Do you think I don’t have anyone to go to for support? Do you hear what you are saying? No, you don’t because you don’t mean a word of it you fake fuck. Get out of my face with that horseshit.”

Haha, I kid. I didn’t say that but you bet your sweet ass I was thinking it and you wanna know why? Because I am the master faker. My entire working career has been in customer service. I can turn it on and off in a flash when I have to engage with a client. Good day or bad, 97% of the time, I sound genuine to my customer. She did not.

Just like my time in the workforce, my drinking career was the same: good day or bad, I was a lost little drunk girl trying to find her way to real happiness.

Today I am a lost little girl trying to find her purpose in this big bad world, desperate for authentic happiness.

So fuck that shit (FTS.) I’m so over it. Time to be real and own MY truth in recovery despite the fears of judgement and criticism that has kept me in and out of the rooms of AA this whole time. Just like my drinking, it has stopped working for me and so has my dishonesty.

I have been asking God to show me what to do with my dilemma because I can’t even trust myself right now. His will be done, not mine. 🙏🏻

My prayers have been answered.



One thought on “Skeletons 1.2 – My Recovery Relinquished

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