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.

When God talks.

Peculiar mental twist. Mental obsession. Abnormal thinking. Bill W. had various ways of describing it. I will not argue. I was squarely in its grip this afternoon.

The day was uneventful. I slept fairly well last night. Fell into my morning routine with ease. Ran a few errands. Then came home.

I was sitting on the balcony, thoroughly enjoying relaxing in the sun when the thought occurred to me how wonderfully perfect it would be to enjoy a drink before heading to my evening support group. In my mind I pictured a Czech Crystal tumbler, half full of ice, with a sparkling, dark amber liquid lazily caressing the cubes. I even closed my eyes. I could smell the heady oak.

My eyes came open and I heard my sponsor’s voice urging me to think it through to the end.

I imagined which liquor store I would visit. Which bottle I would choose. The selection of glassware. The clink of the ice chunks as they hit the glass. The splitting sound of the seal. The crackling of the ice under the stream of scotch. How much…1 shot or 2? The sting against my tongue and throat. The warmth as it reached my blood stream. The feeling of relief.

I pushed thoughts any further than this out of my mind, always returning to the sparkling liquid and the floating feeling I was after. I tried for several minutes to conjure up the consequences. They seemed to noisily fly and twist through my brain. Unrecognizable, black, and ugly. I could not wrap my brain around a single one. The seduction of the drink kept interrupting me. The romance was much more powerful than the reality.

I felt myself rising from the chaise headed for my purse and car keys, no doubt to pursue the object of my desire, when I heard the phone ring.

Firstborn.

As I stared blankly at the caller ID, I turned my face to the blinding sun and whispered, “Thank You”. Then I closed my eyes to watch, in my mind’s eye, the glass fall from my hand and shatter against the floor. I heaved a sigh of relief. Better the glass and the illusion than me.

Now..."What's up Buttercup?"

She is as God-sent today as she was 21 years ago.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Letting go.

There’s a dove that visits the telephone wires adjacent to my balcony on a regular basis. I used to be filled with fear when I sighted a dove. Years ago, someone once told me that they symbolized an imminent death. This young girl saw two of them in the bushes in front of my home as my now ex-husband and I were out for the evening and she was babysitting our children. She was relieved when we came home unscathed. The image was a frightening one. I can be fairly superstitious.

Since I have been in recovery, I have come to embrace the sighting of a dove. For me, a dove often appears when I am troubled about a decision that either lies before me or one I have just made. After some "Googling" and inquiries to friends, I feel more comfortable with the symbolism of peace for the dove. And since I feel a sense of inner peace when one makes itself known to me during troubled times, that is the symbolism I choose to believe.

I was uneasy this evening as I sat on my balcony. There are many issues weighing on my mind. My focus was particularly set on one of these issues, and after much prayer and meditation tonight as well as over the past several months, I felt I had my answer. My heart ached because while it is the right decision, there’s a part of me that will grieve because it requires that I let go. As a feeling of cautious relief came, it was accompanied by tears. And then it happened. This dove, who has alighted on the telephone wires across the parkway on many occasions over the past year, glided to perch on the edge of the table which sat no further than 2 feet away from me. She sat there, very still, very quiet, for perhaps 2 minutes with the wind blowing her feathers. Before she flew away, she turned her entire body towards me and lowered her head as if in a bowing gesture. And then she was gone.

I think I have my answer. Now if I can only let go in faith.


Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Shake-N-Bake for Easter Dinner?

I was blessed beyond measure to spend Easter Dinner at the recovery home that taught me to live life again. It was a small gathering as most of the residents spent the weekend with family or friends. Among the guests were 2 current residents, the weekend staff member, myself, and 2 women (alumni) whom I met my first day in the House. The three of us have seen each other consistently since I moved out of the House a year ago, but we have not spent the amount of one-on-one time together that we had become accustomed to. Both of these women are my Sober Sisters. Women for whom I would move mountains, and who have done that very thing for me. It was dinner tonight with these women that gave me the gift of feeling like you can go home again.

My tears at the end of the movie “Talladega Nights” actually were the catalyst that brought me to this conclusion. (For anyone that has seen that movie this may sound insane. And I kind of giggle at the thought myself. It truly was an awful movie, but the thrill of seeing a race track today when NASCAR did not race was worth the pain of watching.) I knew I felt a feeling of peace within that hasn’t been there for a while after I left the House, but I wasn’t sure exactly why until after the tears had begun falling.

The three of us have very diverse backgrounds. Back in the day, we were people who “normally would not mix”. Our current paths are just as different as our pasts. Life has taken us in what seems at times like opposite directions. By virtue of the fact that we share a connection to the House and have many mutual friends, we have remained acquainted with the surface structure of each others’ lives. Any involvement deeper than that, sadly, has been somewhat swept away by the business of life.

At dinner, as C lovingly prepared her mother’s Bunny Salad, I was reminded of the demons with which she struggles. Her path has not been easy, yet she gives to others without expectation of anything in return. There are many times I wish I were more like her. If I could conquer her demons for her, I would. Instead, all I can do is love her the way I know that she loves me. Unconditionally. It has not always been this way for us. It amazes me to think of how far we each have come in our recovery and our friendship since the day we met over 2 years ago. It was her invitation (and the chance to pass on to her the boxes I had not yet sentenced to the trash heap) that prompted me to accept the invitation extended by the staff member earlier in the weekend.

M was not expected for dinner so it was a wonderful surprise that she should join us. I spend less time with her than I do C, so being able to sit down and chat was a welcome event. She is a beautiful, strong woman whose aura oozes peace and serenity. She has an incredible connection to her HP which bubbles over to how she relates to others. M often makes a point of making one feel very loved by letting you know how often you are in her thoughts. She did just that tonight when she told me that one of her journals flipped open the other day to an entry about me. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke. It was an entry from our trip to Chicago for my father’s funeral. It was something she did out of love and without hesitation and it was my first feeling of true friendship.

So…how does “Talladega Nights” fit here? Sharing the Winner's Circle with a true friend. It gets me every time.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Don't cross THIS line.

Date and I went to the meeting in Long Beach tonight that I cancelled 2 weeks ago. It was nice to take an evening drive and spend some time with my new friend. Outwardly he appears in a good place, or as good as he can be after the loss of his mother, and I think it did us both well to escape the city for a short time. This is a relatively new meeting a fair distance from home and I was looking forward to being anonymous. Well…if I didn’t believe it before, I certainly believe it now. It truly is a small world.

I was recognized and again called by name by someone I did not remember. It was a warm, instead of disorienting, feeling this time and I have made a mental note to pay attention to the friend requests I accept on Facebook. You never know who you’re going to run into. Seriously.

The uncomfortable moment came when I noticed that someone I have been trying to avoid and from whom I discourage communication was also there. I try not to avoid many people. I find it rude and hurtful. Yet, I just can’t shake this person. I feel smothered and just plain icky in his company. I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months, so I thought I had neatly gotten my message across without having to speak hurtful words.

But who was I trying to spare? Me, of course. My unreturned phone calls, ignored texts, and false interest in other things when we are in the same room served my purposes very well. I could easily blame him for not being intuitive, being clingy, or just plain creepy. What I can’t seem to do is look at how I am unable (or unwilling) to set boundaries. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my sponsor and I talked about this very issue this morning over coffee. The irony of the meeting’s name, “Principles Before Personalities” and the speaker’s chosen theme, “Honesty” also did not escape my notice.

Why can’t I be honest about my interest (or disinterest) in a relationship, or how my willingness to remain involved at a level at which I was once comfortable has changed? Why do I find it so difficult to articulate my needs? Why do I fear a display of hurt feelings in response? Why do I assume that THAT response it the one I will receive? This is an issue with which I have made very slow progress, if any at all. My sponsor may say I’m being too hard on myself and that I have made progress setting boundaries, but tonight I feel as if I took a few steps backwards.

With this chance encounter, I fear there will be an attempt at renewed contact. My brain is in a twist. And my gut tells me it’s going to be there for a long time unless I just do the work. If I set my boundaries in a loving way and stay out of the business of how that affects the other person, aren’t I giving both of us a chance at growth?

Of course, I need to learn how to set healthy boundaries at the onset of a relationship. I see serious work in my future.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Oh The Humanity!

I was provided with the opportunity to be of service today for a woman whom I’ve known for my entire sobriety. We aren’t close, but we have mutual friends and share a history with the recovery home in which I once resided. She needed help. I needed to be of service. Simple. The language of the heart binds us.

She finds herself in the position of, what I’d like to consider, renewing her vow of sobriety, after maintaining her sobriety a significant amount of time. SIGNIFICANT. The how and why of it isn’t important for me to discuss here. After all, it is not my story to tell. But it did give me pause to think about some of the basic principles I hold so dearly.

Over the course of the past 2+ years I have witnessed the fragility of sobriety and life. I have seen individuals who relapse time and again, others disappear from sight for a prolonged period only to return unrecognizable, some try rehab after rehab, yet others never make it back. Relapses have happened after as little as 2 days clean, others after 34 years. Relapses have lasted hours, or months, a couple have seemed like years. In some cases, relapse has meant another chance or it has meant the end of a life. Some relapses did not surprise me. Others have shaken me to my very core.

There are quite the varieties of opinions voiced when such events occur. They range from not even a blip on the radar to outright repugnance and ridicule. What I can’t forget is “No one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. We are not saints. The point is we are willing to grow along spiritual lines. The principles we have set down are guides to progress. We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection.” This gives me a chance to be human.

I don’t believe that relapse has to be a part of recovery. I do believe that we all have a right to be sober. What works for some, may not work for others. Recovery is a very personal thing, between oneself and their concept of God. “Our book is meant to be suggestive only. We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us.” This gives me an opportunity to learn.

So when I hear opinions that are belittling to another’s path in sobriety, be it relapse or rehab, I remember the words of Herbert Spencer. “There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance—that principle is contempt prior to investigation.” This offers me hope.

Time goes on. Faces change. No two people are exactly alike. I get so frustrated when I hear (read) some of the opinions sent from the moral high ground. We're all in search of the same thing. We each have our own path. No one is right and no one is wrong. Does it matter how we get there? What matters is that we never stop learning.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Can you repeat that please?

I had the fabulous, unexpected pleasure to Skype with my son today. I love Skype! It gives me the opportunity to actually see my son, his facial expressions, and his hand gestures. He’s very expressive and has a sense of humor that just doesn’t stop. At times it takes my breath away how much he resembles his father. I said this to him once. I will not repeat that mistake, at least until he has time to heal his own wounds.

As it often happens, we talk about some very unlikely things for a mother and son. I feel tremendously blessed that we have such diversity in our talks, especially considering where our relationship was just a short time ago. When I replay our conversations in my head later, frequently I am flabbergasted by the depths we reach. He is as curious about my recovery as I am about his new Navy endeavor. Few topics are off limits.

Today, I talked to him about a series of dreams I have been having this week about his father. The subject matter was sensitive, and since he was in his room with his shipmates, he decided to put his earphones on for privacy. (Good move, son.) The dreams all have a theme so getting to the heart of the matter was simple enough. I did not offer graphic detail, but he is familiar enough with the symbolism in the dreams and how those things were (are) significant to both (all) of us. Before he spoke, he lowered his chin and stared directly into the webcam. Immediately I felt tears sting my eyes when he voiced his response.

“Have you talked to your sponsor about this?”

There have been many times, like this, where my pride in this young man is overwhelming. He has attended meetings with me, discussed attending meetings as support for me with his superior officer, educated shipmates about the “disease” of alcoholism not being about choice, but about what alcohol does for (and to) a person. When did this happen? When did he cross that line of contempt for me and what I had done to our family, to understanding the basic tools of my survival? When did he become a champion for the cause of alcoholism as a disease and not a moral issue?

I don’t think I will pursue the answers to these (and many more) questions. This is definitely a gift from God. I will merely say a prayer of thanks.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.