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.