Piecing it all back together...

It’s been so long since I wrote a blog post that I feel a huge disconnect here. I don’t know where to start!

It’s been one month since my brother passed away. The reality of that hits me in waves. Little things seem to take me completely by surprise. Like today; I was driving in an unfamiliar area and noticed I was coming up on a cross street that was his name. It was surrounded by pine trees and I immediately choked up; tears overflowing. I remember watching him come home from the bus stop, taking a running start halfway down the block to hurdle one of the two Colorado Blue Spruce Trees planted in our front yard. Yes, they were small and I remember thinking how BIG my brother was. And still is. I will more than likely drive to that street, on purpose now, just to feel near him. I’m like that sometimes.

Moving last Saturday from my one room to my very own apartment was not as traumatizing as I had expected. A couple of people from the fellowship pitched in and I secured the services of 3 men from a local recovery home. When all was dropped into the center of the living room, all I could think of was getting everyone out. It only took 3 hours but I was physically and emotionally spent. Two of my friends wanted to stay and help me unpack, but that was something I couldn’t bear. There were boxes I hadn’t opened in over two years, and I knew I would want to be alone with my thoughts and feelings when I unwrapped precious as well as some probably very dark memories. Later in the week when I did that, I didn’t fall apart as I had anticipated. I was able to look at my past as a necessary part of me: good, bad, and ugly. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past 2 ½ years and am grateful that path brought me to where I am today.

The doctor added a beta blocker to my meds. A lot of the side effects I was experiencing were related to the fact that my resting heart rate was somewhere around 100. The BP was fine, and within hours of taking my first dose of the additional med, I was feeling much better. That was last Friday and it was a relief to not be experiencing the wildness I had been feeling inside during my move the next day. I feel 1000% better, if that’s possible. Tonight my ailments are, I think, due to either a sinus infection or an inner ear problem. Dizzy spells when I turn my head or refocus my eyes after tracking an object, and an overwhelming urge to vomit. Not fun. The fullness in my right ear lends me to believe it’s the inner ear thing, so I’ve been alternating ears with warm compresses. It seems to be helping but I didn’t want to push it this evening, so I’m snuggled in for the night. Vertigo is a scary symptom to me, especially when I’m driving or sitting still.

I spoke with Sponsor this evening (as I have every day for the past month, save twice when I just spaced it off) and explained what’s going on. We missed our meeting last week due to the move, and I really don’t want to miss this week, but I may stay home. I told her I’d play it by ear in the morning. (No pun intended, but it works here, huh?) She was firm in her direction that if I did not come that I’d better be doing a lot of writing. I did reassure her that I have continued to write nightly (though I have not posted anything here) and that while unpacking I found my step-work notebook and planned on picking back up where I left off on my 8th step before I got sick and the fit hit the shan in April in health and my personal life. The direction she has given me of late about the writing, and the specific area to focus, has been illuminating and I am grateful to be clearer in my perspective than I had been recently. I kind of got lost…rather…I lost touch with my program and I felt every bit of that bearing down on me in my words, thoughts, and my actions. I feel back on track now, and am amazed at how quickly one can run amok when a few simple things are “skipped”.

The holiday weekend brings so many thoughts and feelings that I will need to explore, so I see a ton of program work in my immediate future. The group I lead at Fouse on Monday afternoons has been canceled due to the holiday, so I will need to fill that time with something else recovery oriented. The regular Sunday beach meeting always holds a meeting on the holidays when they fall during the week, so I will start my day there. Who cares that I will be there the day before as well? They are a great bunch of people and I get to enjoy the ocean surf! I keep getting closer to asking for a commitment there. I don’t know what’s stopping me. This just may be a topic to talk about with Sponsor. Or it may be an opportunity to take contrary action. Hmm.

I apologize that this post is so disjointed. It has been a couple of weeks since I was here and just wanted to catch y’all up. (Yes I said “y’all. One can’t live in the South-ish for 17 years and not pick it up. I shudder to think what LA-isms I have adopted since being here! Maybe my AA Speak is enough.) In any event, thank you all for your comments and keeping me in your thoughts and prayers. It has been a character building time for me and without my sober fellowship, I don’t think I’d have gotten through it as relatively unscathed as I have. I am forever grateful.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Countdown to Meltdown in 5, 4, 3...

I feel like I am teetering on the edge of a meltdown. My insides are racing and my heart rate reflects it. My mind is unable to focus on anything for any substantial amount of time. I am transposing words in the spoken word, and letters as I type. (Thank God for automatic spell check and correction!) My eyelids are heavy. My chest hurts. My eyes sting from holding back the tears.

I kind of resemble that chocolate bar that was put in the microwave for 30-60 seconds. It retains its shape until it’s touched. It’s only then that one realizes that it is melted; unevenly at that.

So, I’m just going to give in to it. You know…the gut wrenching, wailing cry. The cleansing type. I believe in them. While nothing gets solved in the outside world, it gives me a chance to purge. And purge I will.

Don’t worry about me. This isn’t a pity-pot kind of cry. This is an acknowledgment of my humanness and will no doubt be a time of prayer. Deep, spontaneous, and honest prayer.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

The Keys To The Kingdom

I am now a proud tenant in Hollywood. Well, I signed the lease today and received the keys and garage remote. I spent 1 ½ hours taking pictures, measuring spaces and phoning friends from my new apartment. I even used the restroom and sat on the floor of the balcony.

This is a huge step, especially without a job. But again, circumstances are such that this was unavoidable. I must have faith that just as this opportunity materialized as I needed it, so too will a job, if I continue to be open-minded and willing to do what is in front of me in my quest.

As the feelings of elation ebbed just I little bit, I took my leave and headed to FH for dinner and a meeting. On the drive over, I thought of the chosen menu for today: Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. It was the House’s Director’s 39th Sober Birthday on the 10th, and it is always Thanksgiving Dinner for dinner the day she takes her cake. For me, it was fitting also. I have much for which to be grateful; today and every day.

I did, however eat too much. So much so, that I passed on the cake. Not like me at all. I don’t know whether it was over-consumption, or the anxiety of committing to a lease of my very own, or the lingering side effects (tachycardia) of the new drug, but I got to feeling pretty puny as the meeting started. I left rather abruptly once the meeting ended without the customary post-meeting chit-chat. I just needed to get home.

Tomorrow I will rest. I have no pressing issues, no errands to run. My trusty laptop will allow me to stay in bed and still perform my daily job search. Something I have not been able to do since I left for Chicago 2 weeks ago. Oh, yes, the car will need to be moved to avoid a ticket, but this doesn’t bother me as it used to. I now see a light at the end of THAT tunnel. :-)

I think I’ll need to say a little prayer (or 2 or 3...) that I overcome a particular set of character defects daily during the next couple of weeks before I move so that my car doesn’t get the boot. Sometimes knowing there’s relief ahead can bring out the worst in them, and me. Before Alcoholics Anonymous my car would have gotten the boot many, many times over. And I'd be broke from getting my car out of hock. (That is, of course, if I even noticed it was gone and/or could get sober enough to go through the gyrations of getting it back.)

I'm so grateful today to be able to anticipate the consequences of the many facets of my personality quirks. It doesn't mean I'm perfect, but I am learning.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Que Sera Sera

Events seem to be moving at warp speed and totally out of logical order in my life lately. But that is MY perspective. I’ve come to understand over the past several weeks that everything is as it should be in God’s world. If I question or complain it only serves to place me out of step with God’s will. Each time I round a corner or navigate the opportunities for growth God places in front of me (some may call them “tests”), another circumstance is presented. I feel as if I haven’t time to recover or take a deep breath, yet I am grateful. The forward progress and amazingly calm, unflustered manner in which I am “handling” these issues, is a welcome, yet alien feeling.

In the next couple of weeks, I will be moving into a new apartment. When the deal fell through with my former almost roommate in March, I never dreamed that this would happen so soon, or as quickly as it fell together. Circumstances have made this a necessity. (I apologize for the vagueness, but again, much of this is not my story to tell at this time. When it is common knowledge, I will speak freely. It must be frustrating to read my thoughts without being privy to all the details.) I disclosed this decision and the reason to my roommates last night. I was slightly apprehensive because of the last “moving debacle” but said a prayer God would provide the right words and the acceptance of whatever developed from there. They were loving and supportive and concerned. Appropriately. It is a bittersweet event for all involved and I feel good about the outcome.

None of this would be happening if I were not sober.

*I would not have a friend with the ability to get me into a VERY nice apartment in Hollywood for not much more than I am paying for one room in the Mid-Wilshire area.
*I would not have the clarity to take care of what is in front of me, today, and not try to control the results.
*I would not have faith that the work I am doing today will take care of the future.
*I would not be a woman who could be trusted to do what she says she’s going to do.
*I would not be grateful to be in this position.
*I would not have an entire network of friends and resources from which to draw strength in the weeks and months to come.
*I would not know a loving God who wants me to be happy, joyous, and free.
*I would not be living my heart’s desire in the next couple of weeks, however difficult it may appear to be from today’s vantage point.

I am grateful beyond belief today that all of those “would not’s” do not exist. Life may not be the way I envisioned at one time in my life, but I’m at peace with how it is today.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Is he alone who has Faith on one hand...?

Yesterday I felt so…alive. And loved. This is not how I expected to feel on another Mother’s Day without my own mother and without my children.

I set my alarm so that I would not sleep past the point of no return. I really wanted to start the day at the beach meeting, as I attempt to do for all holidays and “anniversary days”. The presence of HP is so palpable there. Between my illness and FW’s passing, it has been some weeks since I could go. I’m grateful I could do so yesterday.

I heard from all 3 of my chickadees before I even stepped foot on the sand. What a blessing! This wouldn’t have happened had I not turned my will and my life over to my HP 881 days ago. Thank you, God.

Mickey Bush was the speaker and delightful as always. I have heard him on many occasions on CD’s and a couple of times in person, but this was a small meeting, comparatively speaking, that facilitated a more intimate approach than he is accustomed. He gave me quite a few new tidbits. The topic he chose for the sharing portion was “powerlessness”. Boy, have the events of the last several weeks illustrated that concept clearly for me!

I am actually grateful for my powerlessness. The admission and acceptance of that has brought me to rely on a Power greater than myself in all situations. Had I not been able to embrace that idea, I’m sure I would be spinning out of control right now with all that is happening around me. It seems as if there is a relentless torrent of challenges beating down upon me and the only way to survive them is to admit my powerlessness and turn it all over to the One who has all power.

I do not believe that God “tests” me. I believe He places opportunities for growth in my path. A HUGE opportunity lies before me as I will be placed in a position I have longed for over the past several years, though not under these circumstances. (More than that I cannot divulge just yet. This is not fully MY story to tell.) What I know is that I cannot choose under what circumstances my dreams are fulfilled. God has a plan and I must have faith. And that, I do.

After the meeting, and my share about powerlessness and how it relates to me, I received much support from my fellows and was invited to breakfast, which I accepted. After all, it was Mother’s Day and it has been so long since I have been treated to breakfast on this day. The gentleman, who provided this treat, is also in a unique position to help me in the next leg of my journey of growth. And he has offered to do so. Surprisingly, I have accepted, which is difficult for me. It is difficult for all of us but I have learned that there is no shame in asking for help. Alcoholics Anonymous has taught me that. It has also taught me that by accepting help, I am helping someone else fulfill their own spiritual needs.

So, as I start my day today I am filled with hope for the future. Today everything is as God intends it to be. And as Mickey pointed out: I’m not living life on life’s terms; I am living life on God’s terms. There is tremendous comfort in believing that.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Mommy-ness

With Mother’s Day being tomorrow, I was feeling kind of down. Having seen my children last week for FW’s funeral and not spending as much time with them as I would have liked, I was beginning to doubt my “mommy-ness”. Well, those feelings are fading quickly as I think about the day.

Navy son and I talk almost daily, and about some pretty heavy stuff. He’s been going through a rough time and has Liberty until tomorrow afternoon. Since he told me he would be off-base with his friends, I decided to give him some mommy-free space. I think he needs it.

Firstborn called this evening because she was feeling sick with a relentless cough. She needed my advice. And, she followed through with my suggestions, feeling just a little better tonight. During the NASCAR race she texted me when my favorite driver was wrecked and taken out of the race. We then texted back and forth about our favorite drivers and our “hated” drivers. It was really kind of neat. It warms my heart to know she still comes to me when she feels sick, and thinks of me when she is doing something she knows I enjoy.

Tomorrow is my regular day to phone my baby girl. I will do so from the beach or on my return home after the meeting. No need to alter our routine one day out of the year.

So, as it turns out, I don’t need Mother’s Day flowers, cards, or gifts to feel loved and appreciated after all. I’m a mommy every day. And I feel eternally blessed that I am sober and present for my children in all the ways that matter.

As for my mommy: She is my own very special angel and I miss her terribly, but I know that she lives on in my heart and my spirit. She is with me every day in all the ways that count.

What a blessing to live my life this way.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Why does it feel like I'm keeping a secret?

The need to be surrounded by the fellowship was very acute today, so I decided to attend dinner at FH before the Women’s meeting. It was kind of a mixed bag.

Sponsor spent most of the “down-time” between dinner and the meeting with her new sponsee who is a resident of FH. I didn’t feel neglected at all. I remember what a welcome relief it was when she would come to dinner before the meeting and I could escape the drama (much of it manufactured by my head) of recovery home living for just an hour by having one simple, private conversation. I was happy that my new sister in sobriety was able to benefit in that way. I was somewhat disappointed, though. There’s a lot going on in my head and heart that could benefit from spilling over, and somehow, a phone conversation about the very same issues just isn’t the same. We will not be able to meet on Saturday either as Sponsor is going out of town for the weekend. I will keep talking about my experiences over the last couple of weeks with friends, but there is so much history and family dynamics that Sponsor is privy to that cutting to the chase is easy with her. I’m not sure how much relief I will get with others who do not have the intimate knowledge of my past that she does. But, I suppose this type of thinking falls into the category of contempt prior to investigation. So maybe I better let go of it.

To that end, I’m a little perplexed by how guarded I am in some instances and how open I am in others. I noticed a couple of times tonight when women I have known through FH, some for most of my sobriety, greeted me with a kiss, hug, and inquiry into my well being, my response was that I was “good” while moments before, I was openly sharing my grief with someone else. Sponsor reassured me that it was perfectly fine to follow my intuition about with whom I felt safe sharing. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. I mean, my health issues and FW’s passing are no secrets. Why would I treat them as such or not seek an opportunity to broaden my circle of support? Was I passing judgment on the type of support they would provide, or was I just tired of repeating myself? Was I being considerate of their current situation and not wishing to take away from their joy or drama by ignoring my own?

In the end, I think that it’s just something that maybe happens all on its own without rhyme or reason. I am still dealing with my feelings. There’s plenty of time to let the world know what’s going on. Right now I guess I just don’t feel a need to be my own personal town-crier 100% of the time. Word will get around, as it always does. I don’t need to feel responsible for how someone hears of my difficulties, how they feel about the manner in which they found out, or what they do as a result. What I am responsible for is extending the hand of Alcoholics Anonymous to anyone who reaches for it.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Getting back into the swing of things.

(The photo is for my sister. Let's see if she notices.)


The day was quiet. I did what was in front of me.

I got out of the house early and headed to Target to pick up a few things I’ve been doing without lately. A few essentials, and a few things, inexpensive, but not so essential. I didn’t go crazy…I can’t afford it.

Later this morning, I forced myself to complete some paperwork that is due in Sacramento by the 10th. I’ll have to pay extra in postage to make sure that happens. Unfortunately that’s the consequence of THAT particular character defect, but at least I care enough to make those arrangements. It wasn’t long ago that I would just drop it in the mailbox on the corner and then make up excuses, probably blaming the USPS for my procrastination.

I also responded, by phone, to an email from a potential employer with whom I placed an application for employment last week before I flew home. Initially, I was going to reply by email, but I decided the direct approach was more professional. As it turns out, I was able to secure a telephone interview for tomorrow morning. It’s quite a change from my area of expertise, but I am willing to learn a new area if that is what my HP has in store for me. And if this process of responding to an email and following through with the interview is just a learning experience, in and of itself, then that is what it will be. Everything is as it should be as long as I just do what’s in front of me to the best of my ability.

It felt wonderful to be back at my Wednesday night meeting. The love and support that was offered felt so comforting. Many of the group knew of my recent difficulties, a few did not. I did share from the podium about my illness and FW’s passing and how numb I feel right now. It felt incredibly healing to give the wonderful men in that room who have been with me since day one through EVERYTHING, an opportunity to be my anchors. As usual, they stepped up to the plate and I felt safe crying in their arms. We fellowshipped following the meeting, though I wasn’t hungry or in the mood. Being able to listen and respond to others’ interests came a little easier today than in the past couple of weeks, yet my heart was still not fully present. At least I made the effort by accepting the invitation and staying a respectable length of time. And as a bonus, I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

I just realized that I am making progress with some of my more glaring character defects just through my behaviors today.

I guess it does work, as long as I’m willing to do the work.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

God, grant me...

I feel like a Zombie, just going through the motions. And I guess that will have to do for now.

I am grateful that I did not come home to an empty house. My roommates have been so kind and loving. I think I need the support they can offer by the mere fact that they are not connected to my family unit. I don’t mean that in any negative sense to my family. It just allows me to accept support without having to give it in return. It takes care of “me”. I also indulged in a few, long overdue, self-care activities today. Again, accepting sympathies from people I know very peripherally. It felt healing.

Tomorrow I get back to the business of taking care of life. Health and career top the list. Somewhere I will find the strength to do what is in front of me. HP will provide that strength, I am positive.

Tonight I will turn to prayer and meditation. The answers will come.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Much needed downtime.

I still feel so disjointed. For the first time ever, since I have been flying non-revenue with SC’s buddy passes, I did not make the flight which I originally selected. It’s no big deal. I’m in no rush to get home. I’m just grateful I have a sister who loves and supports me, and shares her buddy passes freely. And I’m grateful Navy son is tech savvy enough to have set up my laptop to get an internet connection via my phone so that I have something to do while I wait here, and possibly again in Tucson. Again, that would be no big deal. The trip out here was a whirlwind and I didn’t have time to just “be”. Maybe this is HP’s way of slowin’ it (me) down. Though I am in the middle of a crowded airport terminal, I get the chance to be “alone” with my thoughts and feelings for the first time since I landed on Wednesday.

I’m not sure the realization of this whole nightmare has hit me yet. It is much more real for FW’s wife and children, and for the family and friends who had him physically present in their daily lives. I know that when the reality hits, that I have a support group in the fellowship to help me every step of the way. For that I am truly blessed.

So as I sit here and try to pass the time, I also try to process the interpersonal dynamics of the past several days. It’s amazing to have been sober and clear headed through this. And there is a lot to discuss and process with sponsor and friends. I’m not certain how quickly I will be able to do that. I may need just a day or so to lock myself up and cry. Or I might not.

Guess I’ll just take it one day at a time and see what happens.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Exhausted

It has been a very long day. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

It amazes me how many conflicting emotions can co-exist. What amazes me more is that I am able to experience these emotions without the aid of alcohol. I am fully present in mind, body and spirit to support my loved ones and honor FW.

I thank those of you that have kept my family and me in your prayers, and those of you who have sent me private messages. Though I have not had time to read your posts or respond to your words of encouragement, please know that they comfort me beyond that which words can convey. You are an important part of my recovery and I am grateful to have you "with" me as I trudge this road.

Tomorrow (actually today, as it is well after midnight CST as I type,) will again be a long day as we lay FW's earthly form to rest. When the day winds down, I will no doubt put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. There is much of this sober experience that is waiting patiently inside of me to be brought out into the light of hope. I wish to share that with you.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

At rest.

God saw you getting tired,
And a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around you,
And whispered “Come to me”.

With tearful eyes we watched you,
And saw you pass away.
Although we loved you dearly,
We could not make you stay.

A golden heart stopped beating,
Hard working hands to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
He only takes the best.

By Therese Pearman

Kilroy Was Here

BP meds and side effects are stabilizing as much as they can under the current circumstances. I flew home to Chicago yesterday for a family emergency that I learned of late Tuesday evening.

I am grateful that I can be fully present for my family, even in my grief. We were mutually supportive and loving as we said goodbye last night to my oldest brother, FW.

The gathering at the hospital yesterday was surreal. I don’t think the reality of it all has truly set in, at least for me. And I have those feelings of having to be strong for those around me that make me wonder about how safe I feel with expression of true emotion. It will take time, I know. I must remember to nurture myself first through this.

Dinner at Kilroy's last night was weird. Everyone was drinking. I never thought about it once. This restaurant/bar was a favorite hangout for the family and a place where my brother once “bounced”. It seemed appropriate. And for the first time, I had the opportunity to be DD. That felt strange. Driving BB (Baby Brother) to safety in his newly “amped” pickup. Not only did he trust me (only one of two people who have experienced this privilege) with his truck, he trusted me with his life.

Organ procurement takes place today. The Gift of Hope. Even in death, FW is a good man.

My children will arrive soon. My son, today or tomorrow, and my girls on Friday. I think having them together for the first time since my Father’s funeral in October of 2008 may be emotional, but I’m trying not to worry about it too much. I have seen Son several times since then; I have not been as blessed concerning the girls. I’m still processing these feelings. It’s heart wrenching to think I may only see them under sad circumstances. But, alas, I cannot predict the future. I can only deal with what’s in front of me and try to just “be” instead of make up for lost time or undo the past.

Right now, it’s time for coffee and conversation at the Ponderosa with BB, SC (older sister), and BILM (her husband). Enjoying each other’s company and taking it just one step at a time.

Goodbye FW. You are a good man. I love you.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

I don't like being a patient.

Doctor said to give it another week or so. These side effects are twofold. The adjustment of my physiological symptoms back to “normal” is not yet complete, and my body has been compensating for a far longer period of time than it has been allowed to “rest”. I’m really kind of pleased he has a working knowledge of the alcoholic mind and knows how to settle me down. He says things like “trust the process” and “you didn’t get this way overnight so it’s going to take a little time” and “remember how you felt when you were newly sober, this is like that”. Then there are times it irks me that he knows so much about the alcoholic mind. My mind. I can’t bullshit him.

Again, this all comes back to acceptance, faith, and surrender, I think. Steps 1, 2, and 3. I just have to apply it differently. I spoke with Sponsor earlier about this very issue.

As a medical professional, I have just enough information to be dangerous to myself. (Self-will) I have a hard time accepting that I just can’t control what’s going on with my aging body. Oh, there are certain things I could be doing differently to improve the process and not exacerbate those things to which I am genetically predisposed. I just don’t. (More self-will) Little to no physical activity, an exclusively caffeine liquid intake, poor diet, and smoking can only lead me down one road. By placing myself in this position through much of my own action, or inaction, I am ignoring the consequences. And persisting in this way of life in spite of them. And adding to the unmanageability. (I can’t.)

Doctor is specially trained to deal with these issues; I am not. He has years of experience with countless drugs and patients; I have read a few things about this particular drug. I may know how my body feels right now; he knows how it will feel later. He knows what my options are now and later; I have tunnel vision focusing on my limitations. He is objective; I am self serving. (Someone else can.)

So based on all that I don’t know, I’m going to have to put my faith in Doctor. I’ll have to ask questions, listen to the answers, and follow his direction. In addition, I’ll have to put my ego aside and be honest with him about my progress. (I think I’ll let him.)

What comes next is hopefully a better enjoyment of life if I am honest, open-minded and willing. I know through practicing the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous as it relates to the disease of alcoholism that I can recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. Why not give this a shot too?

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Just take it back.

I don’t like how I’m feeling. It seems as if I feel worse on this medication than off of it. I’m stuck in the middle of stubborn acceptance of these side effects and calling Doctor to inquire about another drug. I know only too well that there is no easier, softer way, yet there’s got to be a something that doesn’t decrease the quality of my life.

Doctor is the one educated in these matters, however, I am the one stuck inside this body that seems to be turning on me. How much faith do I place in him and his personal and professional experience with this drug? Sponsor thinks it would be a good idea to call him today. And that is my plan. Yet it’s hard to swallow that this may be the wrong drug for which I paid out-of-pocket. I have only used 5 pills of 30. What a waste. And there are no refunds. (I don’t know why I just giggled at that…)

Refunds, huh? When something doesn’t fit or work, we take it back. It’s sometimes a hassle, but for the most part we walk away with something more suitable to our needs/wants. Or so we think. Sometimes we come home with nothing as there was no acceptable replacement. Sometimes we do this on our own, but sometimes we discuss our bad decision with someone else and get their ideas before we take action.

In any of those scenarios, we’re acting on faith, in a way. Faith that whatever the result, our needs will be met. We either enjoy our new item or learn to live without it, and somewhere in the back of our minds we keep an eye open for the perfect fit. Always hoping.

I don’t know why this seems so significant to me today. But there is something here that obviously needs a closer look.

Oh, joy...

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Take two and call me in the morning.

Well, it’s official. I have high blood pressure. Shocking, I know. Being overweight, consuming an unhealthy diet, practicing a Type A personality, and possessing a genetic predisposition to heart disease did not spare me. (And let us not fail to acknowledge the Alcoholic mindset: stinkin’ thinkin’.)

The doctor, also a friend of Bill W., prescribed an antihypertensive and bedrest for a few days. At least until the danger zone is no longer my baseline BP. The headache and low ringing in my ears persist, but I am breathing a little easier and have less of that doomsday feeling. (And I’ve shed 8 pounds in the past two weeks between the intestinal issues of last week and the diuretic effect of the meds the past 3 days.) I have an appointment for a full work-up in a month. The doctor, in all his infinite wisdom about how the alcoholic mind works, only prescribed enough to get me through until my next visit. I think I may like this guy.

The events of the past week have given me an opportunity to touch base with a few friends in the fellowship, 4 of my siblings and my favorite April Fool. The effect of actually letting them know what was going on with me and hearing their genuine concern and unrestrained support has been calming. It is also somewhat of a source of shame that I do not reach out to them unless I am experiencing discomfort or looking to engage in drama (other than my own). Since “rising from the dead” in mid-2008, they have been nothing short of amazing in their love and support of me. Yet I have kept them on the periphery. Character defects at work.

I shut down my Facebook page 2 weeks ago. This was actually a well thought out action, though not necessarily well executed. It spurred concern from my family and friends. The only two I informed of this decision were my son and my baby girl (firstborn and I were not “friends” through tremendous insight on her part). I did not want them to think the worst (i.e., that I was drinking) or that I was reacting to anything they posted...blah, blah, blah. Maybe I should have given those who love me a "heads up" also. I actually thought about it, but didn't want it to become a drama. Least of all, my drama. And if I'm going to be honest, I guess I didn't think it would matter. I didn't think I would matter. Wrong, again. (Doggone shortcomings.)

My purpose was simply to remove a source of “all about me” reactions. Meaning: I was reading a lot into status updates and taking them personally or using it as a way to divert my attention through the drama of others. By removing that temptation, I have thwarted the formation of new resentments or the perpetuation of old ones. Ahhh.

The truth of the matter is: anyone, with whom I have a “real” relationship that was also my Facebook “friend”, deserves more personal communication from me. And I have phone numbers or email addresses with which to do that. The superficial means of staying in touch that this forum provided was actually a means of avoidance. I was living in a virtual world. Not the real world. So, by closing down that method of communication, I will be forced to have real conversations about real issues, not maintain or support the persona that is/was reflected in the virtual world. And I will be inspired to get out of self by initiating contact with those I love, just for the sake of catching up. It may have taken almost two weeks and a health crisis to do so, but I believe I am on the right road. (Now, if I could just bring myself to quit visiting the blog of APS [Antisocial/Psychopath Sister].)

I think this all comes back to acceptance. I’m not sure how yet. I haven’t gotten that far in the processing. But there’s this niggling feeling, in the pit of my stomach.

You know the one.

And there’s medicine for that, too.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

First things first.

Yesterday was spent spinning out of control. My BP, at one point, was 174/120. No wonder I felt like I was dying.

It’s amazing to me today how my mind can turn on me. I am living so far in the future which illuminates fears I didn’t think I had. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to live in today and trust in my HP that things are going to be okay for me, and for my loved one, down the road.

Going to take it easy today and pray, pray, pray.

Going to meditate, meditate, meditate.

Going to talk to others about what’s going on, real or imagined, hoping to take the power out of the fears.

Going to do just what I can today. Hopefully let go, and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

First things first. A doctor’s appointment this afternoon to tackle the immediate, life-threatening physiological symptoms. The rest will come after my body is somewhat out of danger, and not adding to my emotional state.

Kind of reminds me of earlier days…don’t take a drink, no matter what, and then start the real work of recovery.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

I...Can't...Drive...55

Most of the day my brain felt like it was going 250 MPH. My blood pressure has been vacillating wildly throughout the day leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. I got several periods of respite through talking with Sponsor, prayer, meditation, writing, and staying through 2 support groups tonight instead of my customary early group only. I cried. I ranted. I talked. And I opened my heart and ears to suggestion.

The two situations that have my emotions living in Roller Coaster Central (thank you Joe) are so totally out of my control. One has me worried for a loved one; the other has me reacting to another alcoholic’s (one of my roommates) “acting out”. I was actually feeling better during support group, but found myself lightheaded and with a raging headache by the time I reached my car in the garage to come home.

I hate that I respond with physical symptoms to stress and resentment. It is proof positive to me that I have something to work through. There’s no room for denial when I’m suffering even the superficial effects of stroke level blood pressures. No matter how temporary.

This is a pretty undeniable illustration, in my life, of how unmanageability and resentments can kill me if I don’t follow a few simple steps.

So, when I got home, I worked through steps 1, 2, and 3 on my worry for my loved one, and worked a 4th step on the resentment with my roommate. And then I got to work with another alcoholic on plans for the final fundraiser for AALA.

Heavy sigh.

I feel better.

Who’s shocked?

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Back to the basics

I woke up this morning with dread. My first thought was “Why did I agree to facilitate that %@&! Big Book study at Fouse today?”. In the place I’m in lately, I just couldn’t come up with any valid reason (to me, at least) to do it. Blah, blah, blah. So I turned to my Daily Reflections and there was the answer.

As the 7 ladies retrieved their books from the shelves, I thought about how to proceed. After everyone was settled, I introduced myself and qualified briefly, then asked everyone to introduce themselves. I related to them how this was their group and often as I sat in the very chairs they were now in, I felt as if I didn’t count for much. We repeated the same things over and over, several times in a week, and my ideas for what to read next were seldom taken into account. I wanted this to be relevant to where they were today and how they were feeling. Most of them were pretty new and still feeling numb and didn’t have any suggestions. So I told them I had a Plan B in case this happened. They decided they would like to hear it. So I told them about my thoughts on wakening and read them the passage I had read earlier. I told them I’ve been struggling and not really following direction or living in the answers I found in the Big Book, so I needed to read Chapter 2, There Is A Solution. They loved that idea.

The next hour flew by. There was a lot of good discussion and relating to the Book and each other going on. I felt so much connection to the program and these women by the end and they invited me back. I’m on call, so to speak, to fill in for the regulars when they can’t honor their commitment for whatever reason, so I told them that I would love to help anytime I was given the opportunity. And I meant it.

I did follow through on attending the Women’s meeting tonight as Sponsor directed. She’ll be thrilled tomorrow at that, but even more so that I immediately introduced myself upon entering and picked up a few phone numbers. One of the women who directed me to sit next to her has a pretty extensive history in one of the fields I’m investigating in my career shift. She gave me a few ideas and offered to help me write a cover letter for my resume. I also ran into 3 women I know from other meetings and got their numbers as well. I outlined some of the difficulties I’ve been experiencing lately and found that again, I am not terminally unique.

So, though my basic physical situation hasn’t changed, I feel a change inside. A flicker of hope. And it’s as a direct result of putting my faith in Someone/Something other than me and just plain following direction. Whether I think I need to or not. I’m not the most objective person when it comes to knowing what I need. Huh.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Here comes the sun.

It’s amazing what a difference a day makes.

The shift in thinking. The feeling of being at ease. The acceptance of the right here and the right now.

My morning routine was somewhat disturbed by my alarm clock, but the benefit of watching the breathtaking morning sunrise was a gift. For the longest time after I was laid-off, I still awoke at 5 AM every day. It’s been only the past few weeks where I have “slept in” until 6:30 or 7:30. I made the decision to set my alarm as a commitment to attend the beach meeting. It gave me the time to pray and meditate, wash my face and brush my teeth (no need for a shower with the sand and salty air), fix my bed, brew coffee for my thermos, pack my beach bag, read some really great feedback and encouraging words from the blogging community, and glance at my email. Had I not set my alarm, I’m sure I would have come up with a thousand excuses not to go. It felt as if I had a purpose today. I liked that feeling.

I arrived 45 minutes early, set up my blanket, and got to the business of fellowship. The die-hards were there and immediately pulled me into conversation. They seem to have a 6th sense about things and show nothing but love and support when they’ve zeroed in on someone who appears to be struggling. I also got to talk with some people who don’t come there on a regular basis. These are people I’ve known my entire sobriety, but haven’t run into much in the past year. Our circumstances took us in different directions. In the 45 minutes prior to the meeting’s start, there was an instant, and natural feeling that I could exhale the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I love this meeting. I love the surprises it holds. The meeting tripled in size due to the nicer weather, and it will only gain strength as the season progresses. I think I’ll keep setting my alarm on Sunday mornings. It’s a great way to start the week.

There was a school of about 8 dolphins playing in the surf. I noticed them during the 2 minute silent meditation. They remained just offshore for the entire meeting…an hour and a half. It’s odd they would stay so long. They usually meander south and around the point by the meeting’s midpoint. Today they went back and forth, directly in front of where the white flag was erected. The whole dolphin thing always excites me. Today more than usual.

The speaker was a young man of 28, who just celebrated his 9th Birthday. An amazing sober alcoholic whose focus is “right now”. I found my eyes turning to the dolphins throughout his share and the overwhelming fact that, for whatever reason, they were right here, right now. I doubt they were thinking about yesterday or planning tomorrow and beyond. This was their reality. And they were just fine.

I am here. Right here. Right now. Anything else is over and done with, or not yet happened. This is my reality. I'm just fine, too.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

My loose fitting garment.

Weekly meeting with Sponsor:

Agreement #1
Sponsor: You’re on a slippery slope. I’m worried about you.
Me: Me too.
Agreement #2
Me: My give-a-damn’s busted.
Sponsor: I see that. You’re not following direction.
Agreement #3
Me: I just don’t want to. I feel like a child.
Sponsor: You’re acting like a child.
Agreement #4
Sponsor: Not working isn’t helping. You’re going to have to suck it up and accept that you need to “be new” in a different area if you expect to make a living.
Me: I know and it scares the crap outta me.

It was only an hour long meeting, but Sponsor asked some really tough questions. For which I had no answers. At least none that I was willing to bring to my conscious thought. I felt like I was at day 1 all over again. We talked about my idle time. I don’t do well without structure. (Shocking!) We talked about my level of involvement in life, in general. My absolute apathy. She thinks while the unemployment is certainly an issue, it may be time to consider anti-depressants again. Sigh. I really don’t want to even think about going down that road—again. So, based on our Four Agreements, we came up with an outline for change. To reevaluate and adjust as necessary.

End result:
More meetings. (Specifically the Women’s meeting I did NOT go to on Monday.)
Call her every day.
We’re starting the book over next week.
Pursue, in earnest, 2 different areas of expertise in my career field and report back to her.
Hit my knees more often than I have…specifically…DOUBLE UP at least.

So far, I’m making good. I went to a new meeting at the church up the road from where I live. Literally took me 2 minutes to get there. It was a small meeting, older crowd. My insides must have been showing on the outside, because a woman came up, introduced herself, and asked if I was new. Well, hell…I feel like it.

It was nice to sit in a meeting feeling new and knowing no one. I was able to focus on the reason I was there, and really listen to the speaker. (Lo and behold, he was from Chicago. Can it get any stranger than that? I mean, I instantly felt “at home”.) He talked about wearing life like a loose fitting garment and how that relates to his 12th Step work. I found myself sharing his view and reevaluating a few interactions I’ve had with newcomers or returnees that were less than, um, encouraging (?). Both for them and for me and my primary purpose. I did a Google search on "wearing life like a loose fitting garment". I came up with quite an array of things. But I was also led to Irish Friend of Bill's post and really kinda dig it.

I’d like to say that after the events of the day that I have a new attitude and that things are going to start changing. I am going to start changing. Well, yeah…I’ve been here before. Truth is, I’ve got to get back to the basics.

I can’t. Someone else can. I guess I’ll let Him. Simple…1, 2, 3.

And now it’s time to hit my knees. Again.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

(Un)Comfort Zone

Most of the day was spent looking for jobs. Hours of scouring the “careers” tab on websites, setting up profiles, etc. The prospects are grim.

After 26 years in my field, you would think I could walk in, apply, and walk out with an offer. I think under normal circumstances, whatever they may be, I could do that. My field is always in need of experienced people. With the economy as it is, the fact that I have become highly specialized without the benefit of the advanced degrees required today, and the amends process to my profession in which I am participating, my options are limited to the level of what feels like a stranglehold.

The reality of having to switching specialties is becoming more and more plausible. And with that comes a tremendous amount of fear.

Which brings me to the question: How willing am I? Not very. Pride is a huge stumbling block right now.

When I think about my earliest days of sobriety, there was no question I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to end the pain. I didn’t even think about the future. In fact, I didn’t think at all. I just did. Whatever I was told. And had faith it would get better. And things started happening. Good things. Things I couldn’t bring myself to hope.

Maybe this will be the same. Swallow that lump of pride that’s acting like an albatross around my neck, and apply for positions out of my comfort zone, not as specialized, and not as “glamorous”. Just be willing to do what it takes, and have faith.

Willingness, huh? I guess this is just another area where I need to “practice these principles in all my affairs”.

Better get to work on that.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Reading is fundamental.

Tax day always brings anxiety. Throughout my married life, taxes were complicated. My wasbeen was self-employed, we owned rental property, and we had many deductions and nuances to our forms. I always let him prepare the taxes and he would end up waiting in line at the post office at midnight to have them postmarked appropriately. Glad those days are over. Nevertheless, as an alcoholic, I’ve done the unthinkable in the recent past, at least for a responsible adult. I’m taking action to correct that, and today, I placed those 2 envelopes in the postal worker’s hands. Go me! It’s at least a start.

It got me thinking about my school days and how much I hated math. I didn’t find much of it very practical. That is until I got into college classes for my chosen profession and realized how vital one simple formula would be for the rest of my career. And I just couldn’t get it. I spent hours one evening at my ex-boyfriend’s brother's house while he tried many ways to bring an understanding of this basic concept to me. I cried. And I ranted. And then he said: “breathe”. And I did. And then I got it. I wish he’d have been there throughout my entire school experience. His non-judgmental attitude and calming influence would have been helpful.

I was a mediocre student. Much of it was because I was lazy and a procrastinator. But a lot of it was because I hated reading. In grade school I had many humiliating experiences of attempting to read aloud as each student took a paragraph in the lesson. I stumbled over words and stuttered. The laughter was deafening. It made me shy away from studying the chapters necessary to pass the tests. This carried over to standardized tests. I always scored lowest in reading comprehension.

I felt shunned, belittled, ostracized by my classmates. And it definitely kept me from seeking out the company of those that laughed at me. I certainly didn't belong in their exclusive club.

I find that funny today. I’ve learned that most of those kids who had fun at my expense were hiding their own character defects. I'm grateful I've been able to uncover my shortcomings and that I get the opportunity to work to correct them. And I'm grateful that on occassion, I get to see my own faults in others, recognize how ugly they are, and step up my efforts to progress in my own recovery. Hopefully not at their expense.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

To save a life.

Friendly House
William Shatner dedicates 2nd home to Friendly House

Say Goodnight, Gracie

With the state of unrest that I have been experiencing over the last couple of weeks, tonight’s meeting could have been a disaster, because, after all, it’s always about me. Isn’t it?

Before the meeting, one of my very closest friends did something that hurt my feelings. He meant it as a joke, but I did not find it funny. I had previously discussed with him my need to set a little distance in some of my relationships where I was feeling smothered. He has been very understanding, giving me what I asked for…letting me take the lead. Because I have not been calling him every day, and because of my near miss last week, he leaned in to me and made a show of smelling me, particularly near my mouth. When we talked a little while later, I communicated how hurtful that was and asked him to, in the future, just ask if I had been drinking. He said he knew I hadn’t because I wouldn’t have shown up at the meeting if I had. Uh…I’m an alcoholic. No telling what I would do if I were drinking. I don’t know if he was joking or if there was some truth to his actions, and it’s not my place to argue with his motive or intention. I can only take his words at face value and let him know my feelings. I think we put it behind us. Only time will tell. I know he was coming from a place of love, but I need to do a little work surrounding my initial reaction. Definitely on the agenda to discuss with Sponsor tomorrow.

From there, things kind of piled up. I forgot to ask people to read the two customary readings prior to the start of the meeting, the timer did not show, the clean-up person did not show, and the ticket person did not show. Luckily people stepped up to the plate. As always.

The speaker was wonderful. He talked about becoming an orphan at the age of 41 with only 3 months clean. Since my father passed away when I was 10 months sober, I immediately felt relief. I always thought I was the only one who felt like an adult orphan. It just goes to show that there really isn’t anything unique about me.

During the speed sharing, my friend, D, who relapsed 2 weeks ago after 22 months, shared that he was going to “do this with as much grace and dignity” as he could. Wow, did that strike a nerve. Grace? Dignity? There has been nothing graceful or dignified about what’s going on with me lately. And then I remembered. In the first few weeks in the recovery home, (let’s call it Fouse) I had a meltdown. A serious meltdown. In my rambling during this period I was so incredibly self-deprecating. C was the first to comfort me. Her words? “No one said you had to do this gracefully.” ZING!!!

So, though it was truly not a burning desire, since I am secretary and follow the last share, I identified and told this story for D, for C, for the newcomer, and yes, for me.

So what could have been a disaster was actually a success.
1) I was able to address and avoid a resentment almost immediately,
2) A bunch of alcoholics were flexible and pitched in,
3) Someone who really struggles, got to participate by volunteering to read,
4) I didn’t take the absenteeism personally,
5) I was reminded that I am not terminally unique,
6) I got the message and passed it on,
7) I stayed sober another day.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

These are a few of my favorite things..

Well, the verdict is in: I have an intestinal bug. It has kept me close to the restroom today. More than that, I will spare you.

But I will say that this knowledge has given me a sense of relief. My R.I.D. feelings of the past couple of days are partially because of this “bug”. When I’m feeling crappy, it tends to invade every nook and cranny of my existence. It affects me physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I hate being sick. I haven’t been sick much since I’ve been sober. So being able to say I’m sick without it being a lie or justification is kind of a blessing. And getting through the illness without the aid of simple medications that even other recovering alcoholics take for granted, is always an amazement to me…and it gives me a sense of accomplishment. No Thera-flu, no Sudafed, no cough medicine, no Tylenol PM, no Nyquil. The list is endless. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zoogies. Not even one.

Because of the wreckage of my past, there is a governing body that oversees my recovery. It can be a real PITA sometimes, and it is a very strict program, but…it’s part of my amends to my profession. And when push came to shove, it was the realization that the last thing I had that was evidence of what I had achieved in my life, what I once was, and hoped to be again, could also disappear like ashes in the wind that brought me to my knees. I’m not proud to admit that. I try not to think of why it was that and not losing my husband, my home, my family, but above all…my children, that provided me with the moment of clarity sufficient to change the direction in which I was headed. (I said I try not to. I didn’t say that I don’t or that I haven’t done a load of work with my sponsor surrounding this issue. She makes sure I think about it and put it in proper perspective.)

So I feel like doggie-doo. But I’ll get through it. I always do.

One thing that did help this afternoon was Firstborn. When I was taking a nap, fighting the cramping and cold sweats, she sent me a picture of the lilacs in her room. I saw it on my phone when I awoke. Immediately tears welled up to the brim. She too, was taking a nap and her room was filled with the aroma of lilacs. My favorite flower. I haven’t gotten lilacs from anyone in a very long time. They may have been virtual lilacs, but the fact that they came from her make them better than the real thing.

It’s stuff like this, that when it comes, gets me through some pretty rough self-talk. It does my heart good to know that she thinks of me in a loving way. That we are building our relationship instead of tearing it down, or more appropriately, that she’s letting the wall down. The wall she had to put there for protection against me and my disease.

So even though I’ve been sick and R.I.D., I’ve also been blessed today. And just being able to recognize that and appreciate it as God given makes it a good day.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

From the moral high ground.

I woke up restless. I’m bugged about a few things. Prayer and meditation did not relieve my mind and heart.

Most of what is on my mind this morning has to do with integrity. So I looked up synonyms searching for a firmer grasp.

Integrity: honesty, principle, honor, virtue, goodness, morality, purity, righteousness, probity, rectitude, truthfulness, trustworthiness, incorruptibility, uprightness, scrupulousness, reputability.

A definition:
1 : firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values : incorruptibility
2 : an unimpaired condition : soundness
3 : the quality or state of being complete or undivided : completeness

An opinion: Integrity comes from the Greek words 'integritas' and 'integra' meaning whole. It enters into any aspect of one's life. It's belief system without faltering no matter how dangerous, how unpopular the person makes themselves to others. It includes: sincerity, keeping one's word and agreements, honesty, truthfulness, ethics, fairness and justice, punctuality and never faltering for what one believes in.

Nowhere in my quest did I find permission to judge another person’s integrity.

So the question is: if I choose to live my life by a certain “moral code” can I escape judgment of others with the simple mantra “Live and Let Live”? And how, if I am to be true to what I believe is right, can I abide what I believe to be wrong within my circle of friends? Is it enough to close my eyes to maintain the friendship, or need I walk away? And is walking away a form of judgment, placing myself and my values on a moral high ground?

A favorite quote of mine was delivered to me by Firstborn during the depths of my active alcoholism.
“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” Nathanial Hawthorne—The Scarlet Letter.

Another is on my 2 year coin: "To thine own self be true."

My heart is aching just a little. I must tread lightly. It's a long way down.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

The first step.

I haven’t been feeling well the past few days. My stomach is kind of feeble and my head feels like it is swimming. The physical aches are there, too, though not as bothersome. The combination of the three makes me feel disoriented. I am performing those things that are really only the bare minimum as I have no energy. I wonder if I’m coming down with something, or if clinical depression is settling in for an extended visit.

I’ve neglected my laundry and cleaning my room and bathrooms. My desk is piled with clutter. It’s not terribly disconcerting. I feel as though it reflects my current state of affairs.

I am not working and that is definitely a source of angst. Yet I can’t seem to get serious about my search. I think there’s a certain sense of shame I’m feeling over having been laid off. It’s not rational. For the first time since my spiral into the abyss of alcoholism, I did nothing to bring this unfortunate result. I was a worker among workers. I showed up on time, even early, every day. I didn’t goof off while I was at work. I stayed late. I went above and beyond my job description when my director was on an extended medical leave, performing her duties as well as mine. And above all else, I didn’t drink.

So why am I in such fear? It wasn’t the ideal job. There were many downfalls. If I had it to do over again, knowing what I know now about the company, the people, and the philosophy, I probably wouldn’t take the job. The biggest source of distress was acting as interim director. It put me in such a position to remember and feel every horrendous feeling I had at my last position. Without the ability to blot it all out without the aid of alcohol. I was angry I was again in a position that brought such unpleasantness. I didn’t like myself much back then, and those feelings came creeping back to the surface. I heaved a sigh of relief when the director returned, though I doubted her ability to continue in her position. The few months I worked with her, I felt like I was looking at myself in a mirror from 2 ½ years ago. I think that was the scariest thing about it all. (I’m saving her a seat.) I was starting to become that person again in my thoughts. A week after her return, I was downsized. I’ve come to believe that God did for me what I could (or would) not do for myself.

Sigh. It’s uncomfortable to try to explain my job-hopping in an interview. I don’t want to have to go through that again, then jump at the first offer I receive, only to have it end up like this. I am good at what I do. Very good. And I love it. Why am I feeling so paralyzed now?

Illness or depression? Sloth or fear? Victim of the economy or shame?

It doesn’t matter I guess. I just need to start putting one foot in front of the other. Whether I feel like it or not. And leave the results up to God.

I don’t need to see the whole staircase. I just need to take the first step in faith. (Credit: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Broken-hearted.

Most of the time after I talk to my children, I am happy and encouraged. Not so tonight. My conversation with my baby girl seemed to punctuate every failure that I’ve tried desperately to reconcile in my heart.

Her life hasn’t been easy over the past 5 years and continues to this day. A lot of that has come from me. The financial stress, the loss of the family unit, the devastation having an alcoholic mother can cause. The “if only” and “what if” self-castigation has begun and is giving way to self-loathing.

I’m angry. Angry at myself. Angry at my wasbeen. And angry at this disease.

I want to shove it down and ignore it.

I want to make it right.

I can’t. And I can’t.

I feel like crap right now. My thoughts are scattered. I can’t think. The only thought I can put my finger on is that as bad as I feel right now, it isn’t enough.

I can’t change what happened. I can’t take away the pain. And I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my children’s lives.

I miss them terribly. And I just don’t see how this will ever change. Not that I deserve anything better.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Left behind...again.

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship. RALPH WALDO EMERSON

I feel sad. C’s circumstances are such that she will be moving at the end of the month.

I wish there were something I could do to change her situation. This is a difficult time for her. My heart aches for her struggles. My heart aches for the loss of her physical presence in my life. It is difficult to find a friendship that brings such comfort; a friendship that adds value to my life. I thought she was someone who would always be around.

This is a pattern in my life. One I have not dealt with very well. The leaving…the vows to stay in touch…the feeble attempt…the walls that started to fall…the barriers being reconstructed…the loneliness. It has been my experience since I was 4 years old. I can name them all. They were so few.

Sponsor is encouraging more women’s meetings. And that scares me, though I know it is the best course of action. My relationships with women have always been the most difficult to forge. I cannot continue to shy away from that which frightens me. I may miss out on a truly wonderful thing.

Like my friendship with C.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show

About a year ago, I stumbled upon a blog that provided me with contact information for the sister of my Junior High School Choir Director. I learned of his death in the 1990’s from another member of that choir who I had recently discovered through Facebook. (The ultimate social network for reconnection and receiving WAY too much information about your friends, for sure!) The blog(A Death a Day: Fatal Insomnia | Michael Corke) was essentially a chronicle of rare diseases and those they affected. Some of the subjects were famous, some not. This particular disease is called Fatal Familial Insomnia. It is a rare, unforgiving disease about which little is known. MC was my current age when he passed away and knowing this made me think of my own unforgiving disease.

It was an exciting time for me. I had just moved out of the recovery home after 14 months, was working in my chosen profession, developing new friendships, and reconnecting with friends from my past. I was spreading my wings. I have reevaluated many of those reconnections and most of them have fallen by the wayside. The only thing we shared was space in school. After that, there was nothing. Only a select few have remained a part of my life today, though some from a distance.

When I contacted JCM, though many years had passed since MC’s death, I felt transported back to a simpler time in my life. A time that brings me as many pleasant memories as it does painful ones. (Remember, I was a teen.) However, my interactions with MC were all positive and when I read in that blog how FFI had changed MC’s personality, I felt a profound sadness. I felt the need to reach out to JCM to provide her with whatever comfort I could in the form of happy memories. MC had an eclectic taste in music (I mean, really strange stuff for the 13 year old I was at the time---but I can still remember every word of many of those crazy songs) and he encouraged me to step out of the shadows I had been hiding behind. This is the way I wanted JCM to remember him. When the initial excitement faded, our email communications slowed down and eventually ceased. Her email yesterday got me thinking about my motives during that period of my life last year. Not my motive with her, but the others.

My pursuit of acceptance led me to contact many of the people I did last year. Most were only popular names I could remember, some were those with whom I had real relationships. Or as real as they can be at that age. After the initial reintroductions, there was nothing left to talk about. Superficiality returned and I again felt rejected and less-than. I made the decision to sever those ties. It felt very much like I was chasing a ghost. I was looking for external validation that I am not the same person I used to be or that somehow I could change the past by showing exactly how "evolved" I now am. The more friends I had, the more I felt the old me slipping back. The me that longed for approval. The me that was not quite accepting of who I am.

For many alcoholics, the story is the same. We were awkward children who knew there was something inherently different about us. We were either unpopular for a variety of reasons, or popular for the wrong reasons. I am the former. I was a redhead in a blonde world, I wore hand-me-downs from different generations, and my parents were fairly strict and overprotective. I don't blame these things for my alcholoism but I still I carry the effects of the circumstances of my childhood with me today. It’s something I can’t change. I can only change whether I let them continue to have a negative impact.

I still have a lot of work to do on my journey. I still have reconnections I’ve made that I just can’t seem to let go. I need to examine what keeps me in relationships that are unfulfilling or unhealthy. They are very much like the lamp I keep in the corner, even though it no longer works. A silent hope remains that one day it WILL. I need to move forward remembering that the past is the past. I left it there for a reason.

As for JCM, though she and I are connected through her brother, I sense deep down that this is a new friendship that will grow over time. I don't feel a need to prove my worth with her. In that way, she is very much like her brother. She accepts me for who I am. She understands the devastating effects of progressive family diseases. FFI is one. Alcoholism is another.

(*Note* People do die from lack of sleep. Please consider this when counseling a newcomer who is suffering from insomnia. The chances of FFI are slim, however, it is a falsehood to believe it doesn't happen. For some reason, I find this pertinent to the beliefs about the disease of alcoholism that existed just a short time ago. Lecture over.)

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Drama

There’s always something. Some drama, our own or others, that lures us. What I find, more often than not, is that most of my dramas are not my own. The fact that I can recognize this today is nothing short of a miracle. The women’s meeting I attend is always a place that provides ample opportunity to test my theory. Tonight was especially “busy”.

Once upon a time, as a resident of this recovery home, I was embroiled in every minute drama. Hell yes, everything effected me. This was my home! Little by little, my sponsor helped me to weed through what was truly a concern for me, and what was manufactured misery. She taught me how to separate facts from the diversions I created to occupy my mind and avoid my issues. With that came the leveling of my ego. And growth. As time passes, I find myself less and less emotionally attached to the politics of recovery home life. The faces are different. The routines have somewhat changed. But what remains is that I am NOT the center of the universe.

Tonight, as I watched and listened, I felt myself drawn in to the drama. It was a carry-over from an incident last week that truly did not involve me. I was only asked to be a content expert involving a laboratory report. When I was asked to help, I was only too happy to be of service. But there was this feeling in the pit of my stomach. That “Witch Hunt” feeling. “Be of service, nothing more” was something I had to keep repeating to myself. As M would say, “Be Switzerland”. I repeated that to myself more than once this evening and it allowed me to keep my side of the street clean.

Another opportunity presented itself tonight to practice yet another basic principle I can easily push to the side. Again, we all love the drama and need to be in the know. I am certainly no different. This is fertile ground for gossip and character assassination. Too many suppositions, too many elements to opine. A question I learned to ask myself early in my sobriety was “is this my story to tell?” I don’t remember where I heard it. I’d like to take credit myself, but I was so without original thought when I got here, that I’m sure someone, somewhere, put that idea in my head. It just happen to stick.

Original thought. Hmmm. I feel as if I haven’t had one today. And that can be a good thing considering where it can get me, even on a good day. Thank God for the platitudes, original or not. They made my 10th step easier this evening.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Any lengths.

Since yesterday’s romance, I have been talking to anyone who will listen. I phoned my sponsor after I spoke with my daughter, I told my roommates, I told M and others at the recovery home, I shared about it from the podium tonight. I was of service again to the woman who is renewing her vow of sobriety. I lead tonight’s meeting as the secretary, and secured speakers through the end of June. I attended a planning meeting for a fundraiser for AALA and offered my services without hesitation or self imposed restrictions. And I received and accepted warmth, love, hugs, and kisses at the meeting’s end. (Even from the person I’ve been avoiding who happened to show up tonight for the first time in months…Providence?)

The advice I received is as varied as our backgrounds and stories. What rang louder than anything for me was the chat I had with JBM, the woman that relapsed after a significant number of years of sobriety. I really picked her brain today (and it was her infinite wisdom that I share tonight so she “arranged” for my lottery ticket to be pulled…yeah, we do that sometimes when schtuff like this happens in our fellowship). I was most shaken by the fact that I could not sufficiently conjure up “the consequences” of taking that drink. What she said was…”Honey, if none of those things could stop you then, what makes you think they’d stop you now?” That made sense. She brought me back to what I was feeling on my last drunk (which was actually anticlimactic) and the hamster wheel I was on to kill those feelings. That was painful.

I don’t usually re-read my journal entries but I did this afternoon. The ones from the first days sober, and the ones from the first few days living in the recovery home. (I was sober 23 days when I moved in there, not that it matters. The feelings were the same.) I can’t even believe I am the same person. I’m not actually. The packaging is the same, but everything else has changed.

Even today, when I think back on yesterday’s seduction, I can’t believe that was me. My brain. Without mental defense against the first drink. There are moments when I am shaken, but for the most part, I feel like an objective observer. OO. It already feels like eons ago. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.

Someone asked me this evening if it was the interruption by the phone or the person calling that stopped me. Would it have made a difference if it were my son, my baby girl, a friend, a bill collector, etc.? I honestly don’t know. I never want to be close enough again to find out. I’m assured by long-timers that it still happens even with 15+ years. With that in mind, I will pick brains, work the steps, listen, pray and meditate, go to meetings, work with other alcoholics, be of service, pick up the phone, and stand on my head if I have to. Any lengths.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.