Today, truthfully the last couple days, I have been blue. I reject this emotion on so many levels. I consider it less-than. I want it tossed like trash, something to be eliminated—removed from my being. Intellectually I think this is possible; emotionally this is not probable. I am feeling blue.

At first I pretend I am not feeling this way, this substandard way. Next I admit I am feeling this way, but it is for the passing. When it doesn’t pass, I look for someone to blame (watch out loved ones). Sometimes I am successful at keeping my mouth shut, sometimes not. This episode has been successful. It has, however, turned everything inward, straight to me—bull’s eye. The implosion of feeling was cataclysmic. I used to drink over this hatred. Drinking is no longer an option—today. So I must find a new way.

I was a blamer. One of my stronger character defects, I might add. My sponsor lovingly pointed out that is showed up in all my written resentments. I hated hearing this. I remember wanting to blame her for me feeling like a “blamer.” She was correct… in every way. She was simply telling me what no one else would, could, or dared. I love her dearly for telling me what needed to be heard. I heard.

So here I am with these bundled emotions of presumed pain. My drama of life’s unfairness, my lack of disciple, my inability to change, my imperfection, my humanism, my lack of character, my lack of know how … my, my, my. I want answers. Give me answers to this whole thing.

The answer: You don’t get the answer—today.

I hate this answer. (Secretly I hate the word “hate.” It is vulgar to me. Yet I use it to make clear my frame of mind. I cannot afford the luxury of hate either.) I can plead all I want. The relief is not coming. Alas, it is me and my overwhelming, overcritical, over-the-top feelings. Not a good spot for an addict. And still somehow if I just knew why this was happening it would make it all bearable.

Now, is that true? Would knowing why make it all bearable? I ponder.

I give myself the three-day-rule. Three days of feeling it, whatever it is. I just feel that feeling. Today is day three and I find myself here. Still, I have the yucky feelings. So I tell you, my reader. It is all that is left for me to do. It is not that I want to tell anyone. I have a façade that requires protecting. It is that I have no other choice. No other words will come to my fingers until I release these. And clearly I cannot keep my sobriety intact and flourishing if I remain unaffected by this pain.

The results of my pondering: Whatever is happening, I presume it is happening for the greater good. I must or I would just quit … quit this whole crazy world. Knowing why is a luxury I cannot afford today. I feel my feelings today. I journal, feel, run, feel, eat, feel, read, feel, cry, feel, complain, feel, laugh, feel, and feel.

I may not have the luxury of knowing why. But I do have the gift of being able to feel. A gift I have, by far, undervalued. Every time I have felt this pain I have awakened to a stronger me. And this is what I am counting on happening—today.

Lisa Neumann is the author of “Sober Identity: Tools for Re-programming the Addictive Mind” Lisa is also a life skills and recovery coach at Competency Coaching (aka Soberevolution)