Analysing Too Much.

I've always been one of those people who had the belief that if I just knew "why" something happened, I'd be able to accept it more easily. This never proves to be the case; when I know why, I only know why, it doesn't ease the pain one jot.

I've used this, in my recovery, to put off trying to accept whatever it may be, telling myself that once I figure out why, then I can work upon acceptance. This is pure unadulterated nonsense, and when I'm thinking with clarity and detachment, I can see that. But let me be in HALT, and my faulty logic can easily lead me astray. (A program friend recently remarked upon the way our faulty logic always seems to make perfect sense at the time - I believe this is why Al-Anon suggests we "reason things out with someone else" - so we have an objective listener - someone to raise an eyebrow, purse their lips, nod uncertainly, or if we are fortunate, say outright, "Bullshit!)

How can I tell whether or not my thinking is judicious? Write it down, leave it overnight, then go back and re-read it the next day. I find this works like a charm - the next day, I will bring up whatever I wrote, begin to read it, and find the preposterous thinking practically leaping off the page and giving me a good smack upside the head. I've had times, doing this, where I've even started to laugh, because whatever I wrote in the heat of the moment, was so...misguided. (Nice little euphemism for full-out co-dependent looniness.)

Sometimes the only way I can tell I've lost it, is in hindsight. Such is the power of our disease.