Countdown to Counseling-or What the HELL am I Doing?

So after a lot of frustration trying to find someone for Steve and I to see, we have an appointment on Moday with a man called Jason at 1:00.  This does pose a few problems in that I will have to both take a long lunch as well as change my lunch hour itself, but hey, I'll take it.  I am wavering, though.  Well, maybe that isn't the right word, but my feelings are all over the place on this one, and now that I have actually made the appointment, my palms are sweaty.  I have been talking to a variety of people about this, and the general concensus has been that it could really help a lot.  So I go between these moments of being sure that this is going to help things, one way or another, and feel at least committed to seeing it through, to feeling totally panicked and sure that this is going to be the worst decision I have ever made in my life.  I am not sure where the fear comes from, or at least not entirely sure.  One part of it is change: we have this little saying in AA in reference to change, and it is about how we are standing in a barrel of shit, and it is warm and cozy and comfortable-sure, it stinks, sure, there are a lot of reasons to want to get out of the shit, but we don't-because it is familiar, and we don't like change (even if it is presents the possibility of positive change!).  Never mind that we are standing in shit, at least it is OURS.  We are a sick people. 

There is also another AA thing, though, that is that if it hurts enough, you will do something to change it, and I guess that is where I am.  I know that things can't keep on like they are, and I know that I have not been coming from a place of strength the past month or so; in that respect, just about anything has got to be better.

There are a couple of changes in Steve the last couple of weeks, too-I mean in addition to the fact that he is making an effort to staying sober.  One is that a few nights ago when I was feeling so bad, he offered to go with me to run errands.  Which to most people does not seem like a big deal, but it was.  He did not want to go, knew ahead of time that I was not going to be little miss Mary Sunshine, but he came anyway because he knew I was having a bad go of it.  He also, later, let me cry and dribble snot all over his shoulder; this is big.  Last, but certainly not least ( and please keep in mind my state of mind at the time), I turned to him, too tired to even cry anymore, and said, "You know, I want you to know that if you are still uncertain about going to counseling, we don't have to.  I don't want you to feel like you are being forced, nor do I want to feel like you are just going to get me off your back so you can walk away with a clear conscience."  And in return, he said, "No, I think this is a good thing, it can't hurt."  So on some level he has begun to be aware that there are bigger things between us than just having had a child together, and is willing to take the chance on finding out what they are.  Or, worst case, learning how to parent Owen together.  This is progress. 

I am also aware of my tendency to sabotage things, even good things, and I am trying so hard to not do that this time.  Too, I think this is part of where my fear comes in-because I don't WANT to do that.  I want to do what is in front of me to the best of my ability, I want to see where this goes, I want to take the next step and.  For Owen, of course, for Steve, but also for me.