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.

Conflicting messages.

My mind is a blank. My mind is racing.
I am an outsider. I belong.
I don’t want to be here. I’m glad I came.
I have nothing I want to share. Yes I do, please pull my number.
Please don’t come and hug me. Hey, come over here, I missed you and need a hug.

Yes, I went to my regular Wednesday meeting and THAT is what the committee in my brain was doing--the entire time. I can’t turn it off. I can only accept it as the crossed wires in this alcoholic’s brain. The wires that are designed to cause enough conflict to lull me into believing I’m different; unique. The same wires that turn “wah wah wah…wah wah” into a powerful message.

I went to the meeting, not for me, but for the newcomers in the room. (Magnanimous of me, wasn’t it?) What I didn’t count on was that a friend would stand up and identify as a newcomer after almost 2 years of sobriety. His relapse was all of one night, and he came back the very next day. I had felt him pulling away over the course of several months. This isn’t an isolated incident. It’s happened before with others. I either have radar about these things, or give off some kind of vibe. They say the mental relapse begins long before the physical one. Maybe living a lie most of my adult life, in one form or another, has given me a sixth sense. In any event, I felt a plethora of emotions when he identified and will no doubt process this with my sponsor tomorrow.

But what it boils down to for me (at least tonight) is this: I went. It doesn’t matter for whom. And that is only one of four crucial things I must do if I’m going to stay sober.

Don’t drink no matter what.
Keep my side of the street clean.
Help another alcoholic.
Trust that God is on the job.

By showing up, even when I didn’t feel like it, even when I’m in a very dark place emotionally, even when all I want to do is to isolate, I stayed sober another day. Does that mean I helped another alcoholic? I hope so. Cuz today…it’s all I could manage.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.