You got here in that?

I spend a lot of time avoiding activities that may bring certain memories to my conscious mind. For the most part, I generally don’t think I’m aware of that as the reason. (Okay, so maybe there’s a little denial in that statement.) But I do know it was my inability to deal with the feelings associated with these memories that inevitably led to hitting my bottom, so maybe it’s a form of self-preservation against taking that first drink. In the past, when faced with certain memories without the aid of alcohol, I could feel my heart and mind shatter into a million pieces. Now, by using my spiritual tools, I can have a very different experience.

Today, a friend and I went somewhere I’d been dying to go, yet in 3 years of living here, I have not even attempted. As we wandered through the exhibits at Petersen Automotive Museum, I experienced certain flashes of pain and at times felt the walls closing in on me. I wanted to get out; run. And then it happened. I spoke the words that I had avoided thinking much less uttering out loud. “I’m having a tough time differentiating between the things that are truly me and the things that are a by-product of who I used to be.” I put a voice to the fear and took the power out of it. It suddenly sounded so ridiculous.

What I realized in that very moment is that it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was enjoying the moment fully and completely. This is who I am-- Today. And what it took to get here was necessary. It’s a part of me. In all honesty, there are a lot more pleasurable memories than painful ones. And they are a package deal.

I don’t want to run from place to place anymore, searching for the true me. It’s exhausting. I am recovering alcoholic with a past and a future, period. I can no more change that, than I can change when the sun rises or sets.

I love antiques. I love old black & white movies. I love Prairie Style homes and furnishings. I love camping and fishing. I love American Art Pottery. I love all things that go fast. And on this day, I discovered that I do love cars.

Who cares why? It is a part of my patina.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.