by Ceves, Nina
“How did you quit? And how have you become so strong and well? You always struggled with that, and now you seem so happy and healthy.” Alma could not get enough of looking at her great aunt, who looked so serene and radiant.
“When a need for something rules you, controls you, it’s an awful way to live.” Tia’s expression grew serious. “That kind of compulsion, when you can’t stop thinking of something… it’s so unhealthy. For the soul, too. You know it’s bad for you, but you can’t stop. For me, that was sugar, over-eating, cigarettes, working too much, too.”
“So you just quit cold turkey? How did you find the strength?”
“No, mija. It was, no, it is, one step at a time. Twelve steps to be exact. Each step helped me and now, one day at a time, I am free from the compulsions that made me so sad and unhealthy. Grace, Alma. That’s grace. I used to try so hard not to think about all the foods I wanted, the cigarettes I tried to limit. It took up so much energy. I let my work consume me, too.”
Alma was struck by the sense of how similar her feelings for Ben were to this kind of compulsive, circular thinking. “Tia, do you think… Can these steps be used to stop other things that are like that?”
Tia’s eyes widened in concern. “Alma, are you having problems with anything?”
“No, no… but if there are certain feelings about someone or something that you feel like you can’t stop? I just wondered.” Alma looked down at the dry ground, swallowing. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings for Ben.
“There are twelve step programs for all kinds of addictions. Some people struggle with food, others with shopping… addiction can encompass so much. I don’t know what you are struggling with, but I’m always here to help, if I can.”
Alma looked over her shoulder at the house. “You won’t tell?”
Tia regarded her with compassion. “As long as there is no danger to your health…”
“No, nothing like that.” She felt foolish. She lowered her voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about a certain guy. And it’s a guy I absolutely can never be with. But I literally cannot stop thinking about him, having these daydreams about the two of us. It’s sick, Tia.”
The screen door of the house opened. “Tia, Alma! We have dessert now, and café con leche.”
Tia took Alma’s hand. “Why not have an open mind about what can help you with this, and let’s talk more, okay?”
“Thanks, Tia.” Alma and Tia walked into the house.
“Watch me not eating all the galletas and no sugar in my café and you’ll see, miracles happen. Every day.” Tia grinned at her.
A little feeling of hope, the first she had felt in so long. Alma smiled back.
Chapter Three
In her apartment that night, Alma sat on her couch with her laptop. She was in her pajamas, tired after a long day of family and friends, but eager to see if what had helped Tia could possibly help her. She didn’t know exactly what to look for, so she started randomly Googling words. There was a great deal about twelve steps and recovery. It was overwhelming. She found a website that described applying the twelve steps of addiction recovery to food addiction. Reading it, and then reading other various links made the time fly by. Finally, she sat back and thought for a while. Nodding, she rolled up her sleeves. She opened a document and began playing with the wording. She thought she’d try to create her own version of a recovery program, just for her. Recovery from Ben. She created a file, calling it Crush Cure, and added the document she had just created.
Twelve Steps of Crush Recovery
Admit I’m powerless.
Okay, never thought about it that way. I kept trying to make myself stop having crush thoughts and that has not helped at all. I will try this.
Ask higher power for help.
Okay, haven’t prayed about this. I admit I never thought of even trying this. I believe in God so I’ll ask for help with this. Even though I’m so ashamed.
Believe that everything is going to work out the way it is supposed to.
Don’t give up.
Ask for help from others.
Do some major soul searching.
Make changes.
Be open to letting go of the crush.
Try to understand why the crush happened.
(Why don’t I have a boyfriend?)
Live one day at a time.
Let the crush recovery be a catalyst for spiritual and emotional growth.
Help others.
She couldn’t think of any more. She sat back, and read the words she had written. She would try to focus on the first two steps over the next few days and see how it went. There was no way she could go to any kind of twelve step meeting and admit she was there because she had a crush on someone, no way. She covered her face in embarrassment, just thinking about it.
The room would be filled with people struggling in early days of recovery from such intense things and there she’d be: “Hi, my name is Alma.”
“Hi, Alma!” People would look at her encouragingly.
“… and I have a crush…” Their expressions would change, showing lack of comprehension.
She shook her head and thought some more. Suddenly, she sat back up and began typing furiously. She found a free program for creating a blog, and keeping completely anonymous, she created a blog entitled Cure for the Common Crush. She listed the steps that she had created, and using no distinguishing details, described the reason she had for creating the blog. Instead of going to meetings, as Tia did, she would write each day, describing her path of crush recovery, and hoping it would help others one day. She created an avatar of herself, using an image with red hair and calling herself Alex. “My name is Alex, well, that’s my pen name, and I have a crush. Inspired by the twelve steps of recovery, this is my attempt to get over my crush and help others along the way.” She closed her laptop and nodded determinedly.
She got ready for bed and climbed under the covers, too tired to even read as she usually did. As soon as she closed her eyes, though, she began to imagine Ben. She thought about what it would be like if he was in bed right next to her. All the lights would be off except for the glow of his iPad, which he carried with him everywhere.
“Is this keeping you up?” His voice would sound so soft, and she would turn to him… No.
No.
She sat up in bed, feeling the surge of shame that always accompanied these daydreams. Then she remembered. She was going to try a new way. She clasped her hands together. “Dear God,” she whispered. “Please help me get over this crush. Please help me stop thinking so much about Ben. I’m so sorry I have these feelings and please help me let go of them. Thank you. Oh! Amen.”
She put her head back on her pillow and sighed. She did feel a little better. Before she knew it, the sunshine was streaming into her window and it was time to get ready for work. A whole new week. Her stomach clenched in anxiety and her heart began to race. Seeing Ben. It was always worst/best on Monday mornings. She took a deep breath, remembering the twelve steps she had created the night before.
A quick check of her blog while she drank some coffee had her almost doing a spit take: one hundred hits just last night! And comments!
Hi, I have a crush on this guy in my class but I have a boyfriend. Do you think that I can cure my crush or do you think fate is telling me that I’m really supposed to be with this other guy? -- Anonymous.
Dear Alex, hot singles are just waiting to meet you! Check them out at…
Hi Alex, wow, great first post! I’m following you if you’d like to follow me back! Crystal at crystalcreations.com Jewelry Making Made Extraordinary!
Alex, I can tell my boyfriend has a crush on someone in his team at work what should I do? -- Anonymous
She focused on the first one, and the last one, feeling ill at ease. Why was she being asked advice? She certainly didn’t have any wisdom to share. She checked the clock. If she ate breakfast at work, she’d have time to write a quick entry.
Day O
ne of One Day at a Time
Thanks to everyone who stopped by. I want to make sure readers know that I’m not able to give advice. This is just me, Alex, trying to cure my own crush. If anything I share is helpful to you along the way, then that’s a good thing!
Hi, my name is Alex… and I have a crush.
Today I’m going to try and wrap my brain around the concept that I’m powerless over these crush- oriented feelings. All I want to do is get rid of these obsessive emotions surrounding my longings for Mr. Off- Limits. Today, instead of feeling bad, guilty, ashamed, I’m going to just try this: accept that I’m powerless and that I need help. That’s it.
She read over her words and clicked post.
Then, feeling somehow more lighthearted than she had in a while, she got ready to leave.
Chapter Four
Monday mornings. Every morning of trying to get out of the house with a baby, get to his preschool, and then get to work on time was an adventure of epic proportions. Why there wasn’t a video game about this, Daniel had no idea. And Monday mornings? The worst. Somehow, no matter how early they woke up, Daniel was always rushing out to the car, then forgetting absolutely essential items, rushing back into the house to retrieve these things, and then watching in horror as the clock seemed to leap ahead in fifteen minute increments.
At Elijah’s preschool, Little Learners, he saw Greta, one of the teachers, in the hallway.
“Hey there Elijah, hi Daniel. Oh, and thanks again so much for helping with painting the mural last weekend!”
“Yeah, no problem. It was a good day.” Daniel smiled, nodded, and walked on. Then he stopped. Nah, he wouldn’t ask who the woman was who had painted beside him. That was random and creepy and he was going to be late, anyway. He continued walking, with Elijah in his arms, toward the classroom.
“You and Alma made quite a nice team, I thought. Your section of the mural came out great. I’m going to post some photographs on the school website later today.”
“Alma?” He turned back.
“Mm hm.” Greta focused on the bulletin board where she was posting some notices. “She works at Graphite, same place my husband, Ben, works.”
“Oh?” He nodded, wanting to ask more questions, but not knowing what to say. He started to turn back down the hallway again.
“Did you get your notification yet?” Greta focused on the bulletin board, her tone nonchalant.
“Notification?”
“Mm hm. You won a graphic design session. At Graphite.”
“What? Really? I didn’t enter any raffle or anything…” Daniel stared at Greta while Elijah tried to arch backwards so that he would be held upside down, his new favorite thing. Daniel held him upside down carefully.
“Ah!” Elijah made happy sounds.
“Oh, yes,” she said breezily, seeming very distracted by posting the notice completely straight. “It was ah, automatic. An automatic entry!”
“Wow, great. I never won anything before.” Elijah protested when he lifted him back upright, arching back and scrunching up his face angrily. Daniel couldn’t get over how much of a person Elijah was. Only alive for months and having such strong opinions. Upside down, now! He hadn’t known how strong-willed a baby could be.
“I’ll make sure you get the… the certificate,” said Greta vaguely.
“Thanks! Cool,” he said, as he walked to Elijah’s classroom. A chance to see Alma again. What a weird kind of raffle and a strange sort of prize. He had no idea what he’d use it for, but he wanted it. He flashed on a memory of her looking up at him, the things she had said. Her eyes. Her soft voice. Focus, he told himself. They hadn’t even met, really. Just that little, awkward exchange. That little, hot, moment. For him, anyway. That swipe of paint against his hot skin under the sun, and then how she had rubbed it with that bandana. She most likely had a boyfriend. Focus.
Here came the worst part of his day. Elijah’s teacher, Maria, sat on the floor with two babies, one who was on her tummy, chewing on a rattle, the other who was sitting up, chewing on a little fabric book.
“Elijah, good morning,” Maria beamed holding out her arms. The other two babies looked up at him solemnly. Elijah buried his head against Daniel’s chest.
“Hey, buddy, time for school with your best friends.” He heard the false cheer in his voice and he cringed inwardly. He was told repeatedly by Maria and even Greta, who worked with the older children, that Elijah only cried for a few moments when Daniel left. One time, he waited in the parking lot, then looked into the window of the baby classroom. He hoped nobody could see him, he knew it looked all kinds of weird. Keeping his back against the wall, he had turned for a quick look into the classroom, and had seen Elijah beaming up at Maria, who was dancing with him, stepping side to side. Daniel could see traces of tears on his cheeks, but he was smiling as though there was no other place he would rather be. So he knew Elijah didn’t spend a lot of time crying for him, but still. Leaving his kid was the worst. Elijah clung to him and started to cry, anticipating parting from his father. Daniel kissed him on the cheek and took a deep breath. He looked Maria in the eye. She nodded back, resolutely. She stood up and made a V with two fingers, pointing to her eyes and to Daniel’s.
“On my go,” she said seriously, a smile at the corner of her mouth. “One. Two. Three. Go!”
“Bye little man see you later,” said Daniel, putting the crying and grasping Elijah into her arms. Then, he turned to go. He had been coached. Fast and then out the door. He could do this. He swallowed and clenched his jaw and did it. He left, his baby’s cries ringing in his ears.
Mondays. They sucked so, so much.
* * *
“I’m powerless over the crush. I need help.” These were the words that Alma chanted silently over and over as she parked her car and entered the bright yellow Victorian where she worked.
“Hey, Alma!”
And there he was. Looking up from his desk, a warm smile lighting up his big brown eyes.
“How was the rest of your weekend?” He sat back and folded his arms.
She put her bag down on her desk and coached herself through the act of breathing, and the art of acting naturally. It was going to be okay, she told herself. But suddenly, the idea of one day at a time seemed impossible. One second at a time, that was more like it. “It was good. My aunt is visiting from Mexico. She came on Sunday, so we all got together. How about you? And Greta?” There. She had done it. One interaction almost completed, and she hadn’t fallen apart. And extra points for mentioning his wife.
“Tia?” He smiled again. Oh, how his smile lit up not just his face but the entire room for Alma. “She’s back? That’s great. Is she liking living there?”
Trust Ben to remember the details about her family that she had shared. She nodded. “She really does. She’s happy. And healthy. She lives by the ocean and she’s doing work she loves. She is just here to visit family and friends. She is also going to go to Abiquiu to Ghost Ranch for a retreat.”
“That’s good, but too bad,” he said wryly, knowing that Alma and her mother had been hoping she would move back to New Mexico.
She smiled back, and looked down quickly, feeling that now familiar sensation of trying to rein in her affection and attraction towards him. Sitting down, she began getting organized for a project that needed her attention first thing.
Mondays. Ugh. The worst, the worst, the absolute worst day of the week.
Opening up her file, her attention wandered. In her imagination, Ben stood up and walked over to her. He took her hand, pulling her up against him roughly. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, the tenderness in his voice completely undoing her. “Greta and I got divorced over the weekend. It’s you I want.”
Wait, no.
No.
She angled herself so that she could look out the window. She took a deep breath in and let it out. Keeping her head turned slightly so that she could not see Ben, she walked quickly into the small break room and
shut the door behind her. She took a cup from the shelf and stared into it, trying to gain some semblance of control over her response. All of her careful strategies, her new approaches, she couldn’t even remember them. She heard sounds behind her and she closed her eyes. Scott and Laura leaned against the counter on either side of her.
“How bad is it?” Scott whispered.
“Bad.” Alma didn’t look at either of them.
“Oh my gosh, you cannot quit, I mean it,” said Scott, sounding panic stricken.
“Scott! Please don’t rush to make this into a catastrophe!” Laura’s voice was stern. “She just needs time.”
“She just needs a boyfriend.” Scott’s voice was insistent.
Alma opened her eyes and turned, leaning back against the counter. “Guys, I’m right here.”
“He could be right, though,” mused Laura. “Even just a fling. Anyone possible? Someone new, just to kind of, I don’t know, create a kind of that was then, this is now thing?”
Unbidden, a memory flooded Alma’s mind. A raspy, friendly lion voice, a lick of red paint on a strong arm. Blue eyes, warm, amused, focused on her.
“You’re thinking of someone!” Scott sounded excited.
“No, it’s not even…”
“Yeah, but, you had a look in your eyes, just for one split second,” said Laura thoughtfully.
“Didn’t she? I know!” Scott leaned closer. “Is he single? Who is he?”
“The last thing I need is to use someone, just to get over someone,” Alma said miserably. “That would be wrong. And anyway, I don’t even know this guy. It was just someone I accidentally painted, over the weekend, at the preschool.”
“Accidentally painted?” Laura and Scott said this at the same time, then laughed.
“Sh!” Alma looked out the small windows alongside the door of the break room. No sign of Ben. “Yes. I was painting, and I stepped back and suddenly there was this guy standing next to me, I hadn’t seen him. I accidentally got paint on him. On his arm.”
