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.

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.

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.

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.

Dinner on the homefront.

I really felt uninspired all day today. I think the step-work I’m doing is taking its toll.

I usually look forward to cooking a meal, but I was considering cancelling making dinner this evening for my 2 roommates. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s the first time since I’ve lived here with this couple that we’ve made a point of having a “family meal”. After the shenanigans of the last couple of weeks with my aborted move, I made the suggestion so that we could hopefully bond and get to know each other a little.

Grilled Chicken Kabobs with Red and Green Peppers. Steamed Long Grain and Wild Rice. Sautéed Mushrooms. I forgot how much I enjoy cooking and entertaining. We all stood in the kitchen chatting as the meal was prepared, then sat at the table pleasantly conversing while we enjoyed the meal. Nothing mind-bending. Just light conversation about our days and our plans for the upcoming weekend.

All in all, I think it went well. I was surprised that my Irish roommate attended at all as he was not thrilled with the suggestion to begin with. His suggestion was that we meet for dinner after a meeting. His schedule is far too busy to commit to spending any time at home. To me that kind of blew the whole purpose: creating memories in our home. In the end, his schedule allowed him to participate with my Cuban roommate and me, and he seemed surprised at how things turned out. I wasn’t surprised at all. It’s what families do to stay in touch. My parents taught me that. Thank you, God!

This dinner, though, I fear will be an anomaly. It truly isn’t often that our schedules permit us to share an evening together at home. And that somewhat saddens me. I long for the feeling of a family unit again. Oh, I know that my AA family is ever present in my life, but for me, the memories of “home” and sharing a meal, a movie, a game of cribbage, or just sitting around the table having coffee, all in your own home, is a hole in my life I am yearning to have filled.

I realize now as I sit here lamenting over better days gone by, the anniversary of my mother’s death is bearing down on me. (Sunday the 21st will mark 7 years.) With the step-work I’m doing, there are a lot of memories, good and bad, being brought to the surface. My sponsor has taught me that I cannot ignore the emotionally toxic memories. They have just as equal a part in who I am today as the fluffy feel-good memories. In recovery, the two can co-exist. It is my choice which I project.

So today, I will accept this dinner as a token of hope that I am making forward progress in my recovery and in my relationship with my roommates. I will view it is a success in taking contrary action. I will acknowledge that maybe the family dinners of my childhood may just be a little romanticized in my mind. And I will thank my Higher Power for another day sober.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Family angst.

The labyrinth is a spiritual symbol of the path to enlightenment. The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous are my labyrinth during times of family turmoil.

I was raised in a middle-class family of 8 children on the south side of Chicago. Both of my parents worked very hard to provide us with all of the necessities of life, and the extras when they could. I don’t recall many inequities in treatment from one child to another. Those I do recall stem from the perceptions of a child. I am examining those daily to bring them out into the open where they can become warm from the light of love and truth. We generally all get along (with one exception), and I have been blessed beyond measure that they have accepted me back into the family folds. I still have formal amends to perform. And I will do so when I can do them in person with the respect and consideration that these wonderful siblings deserve.

My extended family has suffered a terrible tragedy in the past week. It is difficult to comprehend surviving such an event. There are no words that can comfort them. One can only listen and offer the love and strength they cannot possibly draw from those so intimately involved.

Instead, there has been an “issue” with one of my siblings and her public opinion on the matter. There is always an issue with her. I don’t understand it. She was raised in the same family, yet is just so “out there”. My parents and each of my other siblings have become targets for her hateful, self-seeking agenda from as early as I can remember. Things like repeatedly knocking my brother down and pushing on his Adam’s Apple, throwing a butcher knife at my sister while we were carving pumpkins, lying to my mother about conversations that never happened causing Mom to be hurt and confused, and other incidents that I really think should not be divulged publicly. (I do, however, share these things with my sponsor and a few trusted friends and family because we are only as sick as our secrets.) My 6 other siblings have nothing to do with her. Nor do I. She has adopted cousins, aunts, and uncles as her family now, publicly describing in detail how horrific her upbringing and her natal family are, while praising her new family for being the only “real” family she has ever had. No telling what untruths are being told. All I’ve wanted to do was scream a warning from the top of my lungs. But I haven’t. It is not my place…or is it? What would be my motive? To get back at her for the harm she has done to me and my family? To prevent future heartache and embarrassment for others? And what is the cost of doing such a thing? What is my responsibility to my extended family? The” fit has hit the shan”, and once again, others are suffering at her hand.

When I step back and try to objectively evaluate and process the dynamics of her behavior, all I can come up with is the term antisocial. I know that’s harsh, but the definition truly fits. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antisocial_personality_disorder And I cringe when I realize that this comes after I have done (what I thought was) a thorough 4th Step surrounding my relationship with her. I need to consider her a spiritually sick individual as directed in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Her behavior does so closely resemble mine at the height of my active disease. So I will go back and re-examine. Do another concentrated 4th Step on this issue. Pray for myself and for her. Meditate. And trust God. After all, I am powerless over people and situations. The only control I have is over my own actions.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.