Damn you, Tom Cruise!! Why must you make movies that don't suck?! I want to hate you, I really do. But MI4 was actually GOOD. I can't think of too many movies that have made my ass clench in the past couple of years. The stunts were awesome. I walked out thinking, "Hmph... now I hope they make an MI5." NO!!! Anyway...
As I sat in the cafe today, I came to a realization about yesterday and the shitty mood that captured me. I asked myself, "What's different about today, a relatively good day, that wasn't there yesterday?" I boiled everything down and took a look at what was left at the bottom of the pot. It had very little to do with moving.
In the back of my mind yesterday, I was reminding myself of something - it was my 30 day mark. Today is my actual anniversary date and I got my chip at the meeting tonight, but yesterday was the 30 day hit. I honestly thought it was moving and money that had me all wound up. Yet today, with no relative change in the moving or money situation, I felt more at ease again. I woke up thinking, Day 31... over the first hurdle. I saw things a little clearer today. I remembered simple things. I get paid today. I move Sunday and have Monday off, giving me plenty of time to take it easy and organize the way I'd like. I've got friends who are willing to help me out and a ton of meetings this weekend to preoccupy my mind. I'll see friends, family, my son, and I even left work early today to see a movie. I also saw someone tonight who I'd been worried about for some time. She went AWOL like I did and I hate to see other people stumble. I genuinely appreciated those bonds today.
It happens each time and I forget each time. This is a damn good reason to stay clean and make it a year - so I don't have to relive these speed bumps in early sobriety. 30 days, 60 days, 90 days... they all seem to have their own associated emotions. But they can't really, can they? Every day has its ups and downs, some more downs than ups and vice versa. But relatively speaking, they should be the same if I'm following that "24 hour" guideline, right?
Somewhere along the line, probably when I first entered AA, an association was made. I heard from others that each mark was a "hump". Not feeling well? Eh, it's just the 30 day hump. Anxious? 60 day hump. Ready to give up? 90 day hump. And if you're having a hard time on day 48? Oh, well you're nearing your 60 day mark, so that must be it!
I find it stupid the things we'll confabulate (I love that word) to justify our irrational behavior. Yesterday was a down day, period. I should view it as such and as nothing more. By associating the day with my length of sobriety, I'm setting myself up for more bad days and bad weeks, especially if you start adding in ranges. Where do you stop? So from days 50 through 70, I can rationalize my crappy mood by saying I've got the 60 Day Blues? I think that's a cop-out, blaming my emotions on a make-believe number or mark. It's a way of telling myself that whatever I have bringing me down doesn't need to be worked on because, eventually, it'll pass. True, it'll pass, but I won't be better for it unless I DO something about it! Face it head-on! Letting time take care of it is just a way to disassociate and repress what I'm feeling. "Don't bother thinking it out. It'll be over within a few days!"
Again, I have to disagree with a few AAers about something. To the guy who told me, almost every other day, that the good times will pass, along with the bad - I couldn't disagree with you more. Look, I'm sorry, but that's wrong! I know why it's said, but it's just plain wrong! It's like I said about Christmas Eve - every day has the potential to be great and it's usually my mindset that makes it take a turn for the worse. I wish I could push all of this 30 day, 60 day, 90 day stuff out of my head and simply enjoy my days as a lifestyle. Every single minute should be worth living to its fullest. WE can make them all great!
30 days, 60 days, 90 days... I relapsed and now it's like setting the clock back. I have to remind myself that I am NOT starting over. I did some number crunching - I spent 11% of this past year drinking, which means 89% I was working things well. Why am I so damned focused on that 11%? Shouldn't I be proud of the 89% instead? For an alcoholic, 89% is a freakin' miracle. Still, I would like to increase that. I've always been a fan of the A+...
But there I go, putting importance in numbers again. =/
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Stop Stressin', Ya Silly Monkey!
AHEM!! And I quote from yesterday's entry:
I'm at ease with myself lately...
What the hell happened overnight?? Who sent the Crabby Fairy over and turned me into Mr. 'I'm Gonna Stab Your Eyeballs'? ACK! Every little thing was setting me off today. I noticed it within five minutes of hitting the road this morning - I was swearing at the guy who baaaarely cut me off getting onto the highway. I immediately stopped, re-tuned myself and bit my tongue, but the day continued to be a bear for no apparent reason. I guess the ups and downs are still happening more sharply than I anticipated they would be.
Speaking of biting my tongue, this is from a friend of mine on Facebook: "I speak my mind because it hurts to bite my tongue." I kinda like that.
Unfortunately, biting my tongue was the theme today. Part of it was due to sheer boredom, which... isn't really boredom, right?! Work is incredibly slow lately due to the holidays and I found myself with that bored feeling in the pit of my stomach. Of course, after writing about boredom last night, I spun my mind around and said, "Woah, woah, woah... what's this all about?" And it was anxiety again. As I sat at my desk, eyes getting heavy, my mind started to wander and I began thinking about the weekend. Money, moving, furniture, storage, etc.
It came to a head when I was with a coworker who was having her own anxiety issues. She gets frustrated very easily and is sometimes hard to talk to. You have to coddle her a little... "Hey, hey... you're doing a great job. It's not your fault that their entire system crashed, even though you weren't reading the documentation and shouldn't have installed PokerStars on their database server. Really, it's okay." Anyway, I was getting incredibly terse with her today. I found myself with a hand in my pocket (no jokes please) holding the charm my friend gave me that says, "Take a deep breath." I was just about to give it to my coworker to calm her down when it hit me...
*I* need to take a deep breath!
Unbelievable. I was ready to point out the speck in her eye, ignoring the log in my own (that's how the saying goes, right?). So, I did. I took a really deep breath, probably spooking her, and we took care of the client. In the end, all parties were appreciative and my blood pressure dropped a few points.
It's this black hole in my head that makes me fear relapse. All it takes is one lousy day to drop back into the rut. The elephant is so hard to retrain and there are days when my rider just says, "F it!" and let's the elephant run. But, hey - try, try again. When I was having coffee last week, a friend of mine brought up the topic of tattoos. While I've never gotten one, we talked about getting something meaningful, something to remind us of our true focus during tough times. On a day like today, I could look at it and say, "Oops, I need to relax a little bit." I thought about the movie 'Memento', one of my favorite Christopher Nolan flicks. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out. Guy Pearce is hunting for the person who's killed his wife, but he suffers from short-term memory loss. To remind himself of the path he's on, he tattoos notes and clues to himself each day. When he awakes in the morning, each time with no memory of the previous day, he has these tattoos to show him the right direction.
Interesting. I guess his elephant was on the run, too. Thankfully, I had a reminder tonight to slow way down and it was far less painful than needling myself. I was passing a Christmas light show and thought, "Ya know... my inner child would probably like this." I pulled over and smiled for a while. It was exactly what I needed.
Hmm... maybe I will get a tattoo. Something on my wrist that reminds me - "Treat your inner child." It made all the difference. In the end, my day wasn't that bad. It wasn't that good, but it wasn't that bad, either. And tomorrow's a new day, a fresh start.
"Your present circumstances don't determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start."
I'm at ease with myself lately...
What the hell happened overnight?? Who sent the Crabby Fairy over and turned me into Mr. 'I'm Gonna Stab Your Eyeballs'? ACK! Every little thing was setting me off today. I noticed it within five minutes of hitting the road this morning - I was swearing at the guy who baaaarely cut me off getting onto the highway. I immediately stopped, re-tuned myself and bit my tongue, but the day continued to be a bear for no apparent reason. I guess the ups and downs are still happening more sharply than I anticipated they would be.
Speaking of biting my tongue, this is from a friend of mine on Facebook: "I speak my mind because it hurts to bite my tongue." I kinda like that.
Unfortunately, biting my tongue was the theme today. Part of it was due to sheer boredom, which... isn't really boredom, right?! Work is incredibly slow lately due to the holidays and I found myself with that bored feeling in the pit of my stomach. Of course, after writing about boredom last night, I spun my mind around and said, "Woah, woah, woah... what's this all about?" And it was anxiety again. As I sat at my desk, eyes getting heavy, my mind started to wander and I began thinking about the weekend. Money, moving, furniture, storage, etc.
It came to a head when I was with a coworker who was having her own anxiety issues. She gets frustrated very easily and is sometimes hard to talk to. You have to coddle her a little... "Hey, hey... you're doing a great job. It's not your fault that their entire system crashed, even though you weren't reading the documentation and shouldn't have installed PokerStars on their database server. Really, it's okay." Anyway, I was getting incredibly terse with her today. I found myself with a hand in my pocket (no jokes please) holding the charm my friend gave me that says, "Take a deep breath." I was just about to give it to my coworker to calm her down when it hit me...
*I* need to take a deep breath!
Unbelievable. I was ready to point out the speck in her eye, ignoring the log in my own (that's how the saying goes, right?). So, I did. I took a really deep breath, probably spooking her, and we took care of the client. In the end, all parties were appreciative and my blood pressure dropped a few points.
It's this black hole in my head that makes me fear relapse. All it takes is one lousy day to drop back into the rut. The elephant is so hard to retrain and there are days when my rider just says, "F it!" and let's the elephant run. But, hey - try, try again. When I was having coffee last week, a friend of mine brought up the topic of tattoos. While I've never gotten one, we talked about getting something meaningful, something to remind us of our true focus during tough times. On a day like today, I could look at it and say, "Oops, I need to relax a little bit." I thought about the movie 'Memento', one of my favorite Christopher Nolan flicks. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out. Guy Pearce is hunting for the person who's killed his wife, but he suffers from short-term memory loss. To remind himself of the path he's on, he tattoos notes and clues to himself each day. When he awakes in the morning, each time with no memory of the previous day, he has these tattoos to show him the right direction.
Interesting. I guess his elephant was on the run, too. Thankfully, I had a reminder tonight to slow way down and it was far less painful than needling myself. I was passing a Christmas light show and thought, "Ya know... my inner child would probably like this." I pulled over and smiled for a while. It was exactly what I needed.
Hmm... maybe I will get a tattoo. Something on my wrist that reminds me - "Treat your inner child." It made all the difference. In the end, my day wasn't that bad. It wasn't that good, but it wasn't that bad, either. And tomorrow's a new day, a fresh start.
"Your present circumstances don't determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start."
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
You'll Never Catch Me, Anxiety! (Okay, maybe occasionally)
Ahhhh, happy times with happy beer. I knew that picture would come in handy someday! You can take it so many different ways. Maybe it shows the dichotomy of the depressive soul - a smile on the outside, yet dark on the inside. Or perhaps it's more sinister! Alcohol shows you that smile on the surface and hides what is truly to come. Mwuhahahaha! Either way, I remember it being a fun day with my friends. I wish my drinking had stayed that way. I wish, I wish, I wish "I hadn't squished that fish." (...for you Simpson fans.)
So, fyi to all, I'm not going to relapse this weekend. Or for quite some time, if ever (24 hours, dammit!!). You know, I have absolutely the best therapist on the planet and I challenge anyone to counter that. I'm not sure if she says these things to boost my confidence or if she says them as a matter of fact. She's brutally honest and reads me like a book, so I'll stick with the latter. We're working on some things and I have a double session next week, one that will probably be intense. I was told on my way out, "Don't relapse this weekend... but I know you won't. I know you." It must've been the look on her face, because I bought it. I said, "I have a month or two, at least... my buffer." She's thinking I have a lot longer than that. It's funny the things that I find soothing.
Again, I am nervous, anxious, about the apartment, and we discussed it for some time. My fear is the boredom that tends to set in, especially at night, and makes me think, "What do I do with my time? I'm all alone... hmmmm." Ugh, what awful thinking and so easily countered. What do I do with my time?? There's a ton of things to do with my time! BLOG, for one! Let's see, what else - run, gym, meeting, coffee, volunteering, getting together with friends (don't call, though, unless you've been given the go-ahead... I hate the phone), guitar, piano (I started teaching myself), video games! God, I love video games! I'm such a little kid. The list is so damned long, I'd have to write all night to cover them. Ahhh, but boredom takes hold and I forget about them all.
As it was explained to me, though, boredom is an emotional 'stopper'. Boredom isn't really boredom. It's either something negative or it's a lack of emotion, which is apathy, caused by destructive interference - emotions cancelling each other out. The next time you're bored, ask yourself, "What am I REALLY? What's underlying that's causing this feeling?" If you're like me, then it might be anxiety. I'm not really bored - I'm itchy! I feel lonely and secluded and I don't like it. It makes me stop in my tracks and I sit around thinking, "I have so much I could be doing... yet I don't feel like doing any of it." Bored! Sometimes it's a matter of picking the wrong activity, too. For some reason, blogging is okay, but journaling isn't. Don't ask me why. So I sit in front of a journal or my computer, writing, yet I don't care for it. Though, I keep doing it. Why?? It only makes me more itchy!
It's tough to live in this head o' mine.
Just like two months ago, I need to get off my ass and do something when I start feeling this way. I've said it before, there's nothing quite like a runner's high. Soooo... go running! Mix up my meetings so I go to an early morning meeting before work, leaving me plenty of time for the gym at night. Is that so difficult, honestly? And, sure, I hate using the phone, but I have some very close friends who I know care about me like crazy. I don't think anybody would have a problem with me reaching out and saying, "Come over, now! I need to stare at the wall for a while and I don't want to do it alone!!" Chances are good, they'll come over AND find an activity that's better than staring at the wall. Win/win.
Aside from the anxiety, I'm feeling pretty good today. What a change... I'm at ease with myself lately and I'm lucky that feeling came back so quickly. I'm serene and a little detached, in a good way. What will come, will come, and I'm okay with it right now. I don't feel 'clingy' with my relationships, friends and family alike, which means I must be getting comfortable in my own skin. The hole inside is being filled from within and it only took some minor adjustments, perspective shifts. I stopped yanking the reins like a mad man.
If you saw me in the car yesterday, you would dispute all of this. Trust me, I'm feeling okay today. My anxiety is shifting to sharp, quick stabs, rather than the all day torture. Sharp, quick stabs... those I can take. I can defuse those easily enough. All I have to do is (say it with me) take things a day at a time. Seriously, what are my worries? Finances? Okay, I'm not the only one on the planet with that problem. Hell, I think I feel more anxiety for others than I do for myself when it comes to money (I HATE talking money... it's such a downer). What else? The new apartment? At least I can afford a small place, although I'm broke, which is MY doing. Hotels and motels aren't cheap and neither is booze. I've blown a lot of money on binges. If I stop (woah! what an idea!), then I'll be saving myself an awful lot.
So my worries are no different than anyone else's worries. I'm not unique, though I like to think so. Let's push all of those little nuisances aside. At the end of the day, this is what I Hope to say:
"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see." - John Burroughs
So, fyi to all, I'm not going to relapse this weekend. Or for quite some time, if ever (24 hours, dammit!!). You know, I have absolutely the best therapist on the planet and I challenge anyone to counter that. I'm not sure if she says these things to boost my confidence or if she says them as a matter of fact. She's brutally honest and reads me like a book, so I'll stick with the latter. We're working on some things and I have a double session next week, one that will probably be intense. I was told on my way out, "Don't relapse this weekend... but I know you won't. I know you." It must've been the look on her face, because I bought it. I said, "I have a month or two, at least... my buffer." She's thinking I have a lot longer than that. It's funny the things that I find soothing.
Again, I am nervous, anxious, about the apartment, and we discussed it for some time. My fear is the boredom that tends to set in, especially at night, and makes me think, "What do I do with my time? I'm all alone... hmmmm." Ugh, what awful thinking and so easily countered. What do I do with my time?? There's a ton of things to do with my time! BLOG, for one! Let's see, what else - run, gym, meeting, coffee, volunteering, getting together with friends (don't call, though, unless you've been given the go-ahead... I hate the phone), guitar, piano (I started teaching myself), video games! God, I love video games! I'm such a little kid. The list is so damned long, I'd have to write all night to cover them. Ahhh, but boredom takes hold and I forget about them all.
As it was explained to me, though, boredom is an emotional 'stopper'. Boredom isn't really boredom. It's either something negative or it's a lack of emotion, which is apathy, caused by destructive interference - emotions cancelling each other out. The next time you're bored, ask yourself, "What am I REALLY? What's underlying that's causing this feeling?" If you're like me, then it might be anxiety. I'm not really bored - I'm itchy! I feel lonely and secluded and I don't like it. It makes me stop in my tracks and I sit around thinking, "I have so much I could be doing... yet I don't feel like doing any of it." Bored! Sometimes it's a matter of picking the wrong activity, too. For some reason, blogging is okay, but journaling isn't. Don't ask me why. So I sit in front of a journal or my computer, writing, yet I don't care for it. Though, I keep doing it. Why?? It only makes me more itchy!
It's tough to live in this head o' mine.
Just like two months ago, I need to get off my ass and do something when I start feeling this way. I've said it before, there's nothing quite like a runner's high. Soooo... go running! Mix up my meetings so I go to an early morning meeting before work, leaving me plenty of time for the gym at night. Is that so difficult, honestly? And, sure, I hate using the phone, but I have some very close friends who I know care about me like crazy. I don't think anybody would have a problem with me reaching out and saying, "Come over, now! I need to stare at the wall for a while and I don't want to do it alone!!" Chances are good, they'll come over AND find an activity that's better than staring at the wall. Win/win.
Aside from the anxiety, I'm feeling pretty good today. What a change... I'm at ease with myself lately and I'm lucky that feeling came back so quickly. I'm serene and a little detached, in a good way. What will come, will come, and I'm okay with it right now. I don't feel 'clingy' with my relationships, friends and family alike, which means I must be getting comfortable in my own skin. The hole inside is being filled from within and it only took some minor adjustments, perspective shifts. I stopped yanking the reins like a mad man.
If you saw me in the car yesterday, you would dispute all of this. Trust me, I'm feeling okay today. My anxiety is shifting to sharp, quick stabs, rather than the all day torture. Sharp, quick stabs... those I can take. I can defuse those easily enough. All I have to do is (say it with me) take things a day at a time. Seriously, what are my worries? Finances? Okay, I'm not the only one on the planet with that problem. Hell, I think I feel more anxiety for others than I do for myself when it comes to money (I HATE talking money... it's such a downer). What else? The new apartment? At least I can afford a small place, although I'm broke, which is MY doing. Hotels and motels aren't cheap and neither is booze. I've blown a lot of money on binges. If I stop (woah! what an idea!), then I'll be saving myself an awful lot.
So my worries are no different than anyone else's worries. I'm not unique, though I like to think so. Let's push all of those little nuisances aside. At the end of the day, this is what I Hope to say:
"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see." - John Burroughs
Monday, December 26, 2011
A Geographical Cure?
For those of you who had the day off, I truly hope that you enjoyed it and relaxed as much as you could. For those of you who worked, sorry.
I am nervous... anxious. And it feels good to admit. Due to the personal issues I've grappled, I haven't been 'on my own' in roughly five or six years. As of New Year's Day, 2012, I will be moving into a new apartment and I must say that I am entirely uncomfortable with the idea! The truth is, I simply don't trust myself yet. All it will take is one bad day or one boring night and I could (*could*) start repeating old patterns. Luckily, I've repeated them to the point where I recognize them happening. The trick is doing something about them.
There are pros and cons to every living scenario and I've weighed them all, ultimately coming to the decision to live alone. I could have opted for roommates, though I feel I'm at the end of my run... my patience is worn. By the time I get home from work and a meeting, I really don't feel like dealing with other people's bullshit. While this goes counter to my 'avoid isolation' practice, everyone needs time alone. Whether it's to eat in peace, read a book, or just take a deep breath, we need down-time. It's especially needed for those who work in customer service oriented fields. The mind can only process so much interaction. That's not ME talking, but things I've picked up from others along my therapy travels.
And speaking of bullshit, I'd like to take a shit without having to wipe down the toilet seat every time I sit down. Too much information? Sorry. Let's simply say that, after my last round of roommates, I can appreciate why women get so angry at men for not lifting the seat. Friggin' gross. Gross, gross, gross. And would it kill a guy to clean the shower once in a while? When the resentments set in, I tried the "If you're not going to clean, then neither am I" tactic, which backfired miserably. What grew in the bathtub could have been studied by science for years to come.
Anyway, I see the obvious advantages of having a roommate in my situation - to keep me accountable or responsible for my drinking consequences, should I choose to drink again - but, sweet baby Jesus, I'm old enough to take care of myself. Eventually, you've got to grow up and cut the strings.
What makes me nervous is the black hole that is my central learning unit. I read recently, "Epiphanies are short lived." It is possible for each of us to have profound moments of enlightenment and learning, literally life-altering events, only to forget them weeks later. Each relapse has taught me enormous lessons, and this last relapse was no exception. I have learned immense lessons about myself - how I react to others' anger and attacks, how I deal with personal relationships, how and how long I let my own anger fester, my internalizing of problems, the cycles of my thinking, etc. While I'm begging for help on the inside, I still have a very difficult time verbalizing these cries. By facing my struggles head-on lately, I'm honing new coping skills and attitudes that will help me keep my serenity and live life on the right track.
Unfortunately, it's not enough just to have these moments, as enlightening as they may be. Without their application in daily life, I will never retrain my thinking. I need to apply these lessons over and over again for weeks and months hereafter. Based on my relapse 'schedule', I can see what's happened clearly. For a couple of months, I retrain... I get back to the mental gym and start to develop a healthy attitude adjustment. Somehow, I justify a reason to stop going to the gym for a couple of days. Maybe I'm tired, I want to get to bed early, and so I don't do what I'm doing now... I decide not to journal, blog, or meditate. I find a reason not to do my mental exercises. Just like a physical workout, it's easy slide if you don't stick to a routine. I begin a two month backslide (it's almost always one and a half to two months) and then <WHAM!!> something sends me over the edge and the drinking begins.
While I feel good now (maybe not good, but better), I know that the relapse was recent and I'm in 'retraining' mode. During this time, I may struggle, but the thought of physically drinking is disgusting. My stomach turns and my nose scrunches. Seeing scotch drinkers at our office party was emotionally difficult. Actually taking a drink was out of the question. For a few more weeks, I have a buffer. It's what happens when the buffer runs out that makes me anxious.
Ah well, I'm projecting. I won't beat myself up for it. After all, moving is a big deal, no matter who you are. It comes with a lot of stress, mostly financial. But I just wrote last night that things are pretty simple, as long as I'm living in the moment. 24-hours, pal... that's all I'm after. I think the fear I'm feeling is healthy (I respect it, certainly), but I can't let it overtake me. I'll wind up complicating things and we know that's never good, not for me. You don't want me to start over-analyzing this.
"Take a deep breath." "Easy does it." "One day at a time." I need all of the slogans right now!
I am nervous... anxious. And it feels good to admit. Due to the personal issues I've grappled, I haven't been 'on my own' in roughly five or six years. As of New Year's Day, 2012, I will be moving into a new apartment and I must say that I am entirely uncomfortable with the idea! The truth is, I simply don't trust myself yet. All it will take is one bad day or one boring night and I could (*could*) start repeating old patterns. Luckily, I've repeated them to the point where I recognize them happening. The trick is doing something about them.
There are pros and cons to every living scenario and I've weighed them all, ultimately coming to the decision to live alone. I could have opted for roommates, though I feel I'm at the end of my run... my patience is worn. By the time I get home from work and a meeting, I really don't feel like dealing with other people's bullshit. While this goes counter to my 'avoid isolation' practice, everyone needs time alone. Whether it's to eat in peace, read a book, or just take a deep breath, we need down-time. It's especially needed for those who work in customer service oriented fields. The mind can only process so much interaction. That's not ME talking, but things I've picked up from others along my therapy travels.
And speaking of bullshit, I'd like to take a shit without having to wipe down the toilet seat every time I sit down. Too much information? Sorry. Let's simply say that, after my last round of roommates, I can appreciate why women get so angry at men for not lifting the seat. Friggin' gross. Gross, gross, gross. And would it kill a guy to clean the shower once in a while? When the resentments set in, I tried the "If you're not going to clean, then neither am I" tactic, which backfired miserably. What grew in the bathtub could have been studied by science for years to come.
Anyway, I see the obvious advantages of having a roommate in my situation - to keep me accountable or responsible for my drinking consequences, should I choose to drink again - but, sweet baby Jesus, I'm old enough to take care of myself. Eventually, you've got to grow up and cut the strings.
What makes me nervous is the black hole that is my central learning unit. I read recently, "Epiphanies are short lived." It is possible for each of us to have profound moments of enlightenment and learning, literally life-altering events, only to forget them weeks later. Each relapse has taught me enormous lessons, and this last relapse was no exception. I have learned immense lessons about myself - how I react to others' anger and attacks, how I deal with personal relationships, how and how long I let my own anger fester, my internalizing of problems, the cycles of my thinking, etc. While I'm begging for help on the inside, I still have a very difficult time verbalizing these cries. By facing my struggles head-on lately, I'm honing new coping skills and attitudes that will help me keep my serenity and live life on the right track.
Unfortunately, it's not enough just to have these moments, as enlightening as they may be. Without their application in daily life, I will never retrain my thinking. I need to apply these lessons over and over again for weeks and months hereafter. Based on my relapse 'schedule', I can see what's happened clearly. For a couple of months, I retrain... I get back to the mental gym and start to develop a healthy attitude adjustment. Somehow, I justify a reason to stop going to the gym for a couple of days. Maybe I'm tired, I want to get to bed early, and so I don't do what I'm doing now... I decide not to journal, blog, or meditate. I find a reason not to do my mental exercises. Just like a physical workout, it's easy slide if you don't stick to a routine. I begin a two month backslide (it's almost always one and a half to two months) and then <WHAM!!> something sends me over the edge and the drinking begins.
While I feel good now (maybe not good, but better), I know that the relapse was recent and I'm in 'retraining' mode. During this time, I may struggle, but the thought of physically drinking is disgusting. My stomach turns and my nose scrunches. Seeing scotch drinkers at our office party was emotionally difficult. Actually taking a drink was out of the question. For a few more weeks, I have a buffer. It's what happens when the buffer runs out that makes me anxious.
Ah well, I'm projecting. I won't beat myself up for it. After all, moving is a big deal, no matter who you are. It comes with a lot of stress, mostly financial. But I just wrote last night that things are pretty simple, as long as I'm living in the moment. 24-hours, pal... that's all I'm after. I think the fear I'm feeling is healthy (I respect it, certainly), but I can't let it overtake me. I'll wind up complicating things and we know that's never good, not for me. You don't want me to start over-analyzing this.
"Take a deep breath." "Easy does it." "One day at a time." I need all of the slogans right now!
Sunday, December 25, 2011
A Generous Gift
Availability.
We made it, didn't we? Another Christmas has come to pass. It's amazing how much we can pack into two short days. The insanity of December boils down to Christmas and Christmas Eve (and Hanukkah!) and finally everyone can put their feet up and breathe a little easier. Relatively speaking, of course.
I'm glad I made the choices that I did this weekend. I'm glad I made the choices that I did starting at the beginning of the week... and month, actually. With the help of others, I made it through an interesting Friday, had a nice breakfast yesterday, spent Christmas Eve with wonderful family and a squealing three-year old (what a kick!), and spent Christmas day with some new friends who were incredibly gracious hosts. To think, as of last Saturday, my only plan was to be at the AA marathon, all night and all day. At THAT time, I guess I needed some distance, but it was due to the nasty cyclical thinking I still had spinning in my noggin'. In order to do the things I did this weekend, I had to step out of my comfort zone (isolation really does get cozy... and lonely). It was for the best.
Seeing my son was a huge boost to my spirit. It's the first Christmas he really 'got it'. He's been content to rip open presents and help you with yours. He didn't quite care about the contents as much as he did opening the gifts. Last year, he kind of got it, but this year he definitely made the Santa connection, being a good boy, leaving cookies out for the big man, etc. It was good to see. While I said I have to move down Recovery Road for me, it lifted my spirits to get a glimpse of what's ahead if I keep on this journey (try, try again... don't give up). Not only that, it reminds me to treat my own little boy, my inner kid, with the same kind of fun and enthusiasm - not once in a while, but every day. There's no reason each of us can't be as excited as my son was, just to get up, get out and live.
My only regret this weekend was forgetting my camera on Christmas Eve. If that's my only regret over three tough days, then I'm doing a-okay. I even tucked a few meetings under my belt. I wanted to be at the 24-hour meeting to show my support, but it was more important for me to be around for family this holiday. It was only a balancing act when I started to over think it. As long as I stayed in the moment, it was pretty simple.
I still say that one of the best gifts of recovery is availability. It bites me to look over the days I've been AWOL and think of what I've missed and the people I've pushed away. There's a lot of guilt and remorse there. If I look at it too long, then I pick up the bat and the self-pity starts rolling in. It actually benefits me to throw up a few walls, disconnect myself from those thoughts and promise the elephant that we'll deal with it later - like in therapy where it's appropriate and I have someone to help me. These are the emotions I try to deal with alone, typically, which lead to more trouble.
Every day has the potential to be as good as Christmas Eve with my son. They won't all be amazing, but I'd like to think that they all have the potential. If perception is nine-tenths of our reality, then that actually leaves us with more control over our lives than we might think. It takes practice reversing pessimism and negative thinking, but wouldn't it be SO worth it?
Happy Holidays to all. I'm content. Thank you.
We made it, didn't we? Another Christmas has come to pass. It's amazing how much we can pack into two short days. The insanity of December boils down to Christmas and Christmas Eve (and Hanukkah!) and finally everyone can put their feet up and breathe a little easier. Relatively speaking, of course.
I'm glad I made the choices that I did this weekend. I'm glad I made the choices that I did starting at the beginning of the week... and month, actually. With the help of others, I made it through an interesting Friday, had a nice breakfast yesterday, spent Christmas Eve with wonderful family and a squealing three-year old (what a kick!), and spent Christmas day with some new friends who were incredibly gracious hosts. To think, as of last Saturday, my only plan was to be at the AA marathon, all night and all day. At THAT time, I guess I needed some distance, but it was due to the nasty cyclical thinking I still had spinning in my noggin'. In order to do the things I did this weekend, I had to step out of my comfort zone (isolation really does get cozy... and lonely). It was for the best.
Seeing my son was a huge boost to my spirit. It's the first Christmas he really 'got it'. He's been content to rip open presents and help you with yours. He didn't quite care about the contents as much as he did opening the gifts. Last year, he kind of got it, but this year he definitely made the Santa connection, being a good boy, leaving cookies out for the big man, etc. It was good to see. While I said I have to move down Recovery Road for me, it lifted my spirits to get a glimpse of what's ahead if I keep on this journey (try, try again... don't give up). Not only that, it reminds me to treat my own little boy, my inner kid, with the same kind of fun and enthusiasm - not once in a while, but every day. There's no reason each of us can't be as excited as my son was, just to get up, get out and live.
My only regret this weekend was forgetting my camera on Christmas Eve. If that's my only regret over three tough days, then I'm doing a-okay. I even tucked a few meetings under my belt. I wanted to be at the 24-hour meeting to show my support, but it was more important for me to be around for family this holiday. It was only a balancing act when I started to over think it. As long as I stayed in the moment, it was pretty simple.
I still say that one of the best gifts of recovery is availability. It bites me to look over the days I've been AWOL and think of what I've missed and the people I've pushed away. There's a lot of guilt and remorse there. If I look at it too long, then I pick up the bat and the self-pity starts rolling in. It actually benefits me to throw up a few walls, disconnect myself from those thoughts and promise the elephant that we'll deal with it later - like in therapy where it's appropriate and I have someone to help me. These are the emotions I try to deal with alone, typically, which lead to more trouble.
Every day has the potential to be as good as Christmas Eve with my son. They won't all be amazing, but I'd like to think that they all have the potential. If perception is nine-tenths of our reality, then that actually leaves us with more control over our lives than we might think. It takes practice reversing pessimism and negative thinking, but wouldn't it be SO worth it?
Happy Holidays to all. I'm content. Thank you.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Two Riders Were Approaching... a Starbucks
(My apologies to Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix.)
Two riders dismounted today and discussed their elephants. For three hours. Three, profound hours.
I'd be remiss if I didn't use the word 'profound'. It was one of the best therapy sessions I've had in three years, punched into three hours, and there was so much more to say. Here was a woman who I haven't seen since college, basically, and it felt like we had never missed a beat. Thankfully, it was not someone who shared the same physical compulsions, but someone who clearly understood the deeper issues and could grasp the raw emotions of the condition. I can't write all about it now... there's simply too much. My mind is still spinning as I try to sort it all out.
Ah, some of you want to know about the party, first. Um... yeah, it wasn't easy. I'm grateful this evening that I work with someone who shares my nerd passions, because it allowed us to work while the craziness ensued in the office. The day began with Mimosas, whiskey balls and gummy bears. Oh, you poor, helpless, gooey, vodka-filled gummy bears. It was all so perverse. I felt bad for them.... so bad for them that I could not bring myself to eat said vodka-filled gummy bears. If someone tried that with sour patch kids, I might have a melt down. Look, even I have a limit, believe it or not. I don't want to be a downer and this actually has nothing to do with my problems. I just don't think it's entirely professional to bring vodka-soaked gummies into the workplace. I'm okay with the booze, but... really? Pretty sure that I and my coworker were the only people doing anything productive in the office. The only thing I had a tough time with, which surprised me, was seeing people walking around with glasses of scotch. That was MY drink during my divorce and something bit me on the back of my neck when I saw it. Maybe it was more of a nibble. It made me think nostalgically on the entire ordeal and I 'wanted' a glass. I didn't 'need' a glass, though, did I? And so my willpower kicked in and said, "Um, no pal. Keep being nerdy." I listened.
It certainly was a good time, though. Ugh, the foooooood!!! So much damn food! All of it was incredible. A few people came to work simply to continue drinking from the night before and their hangovers looked pretty awful. I don't miss that, although I haven't had a hangover in years and years. I never got hangovers... because I was always drunk in the morning. A friend of mine quips, "If you woke up with a hangover, then it meant you didn't drink enough the night before." Indeed. By 1:30, I had enough of the internal bickering between ego and id and left for my coffee 'date'.
The meetings have been great lately and I'm so glad to be back with my therapist, but I NEEDED this (one of our topics... need vs. want). It was a victory just getting together. I'm such a massive isolationist and haven't been able to express myself for years, so I am a good one for making plans and then canceling at the last minute. My intentions are pure - I really do want to get together with my friends - yet I chicken out at the 11th hour (good game, by the way). Anyway, she made me see things in ways that I hadn't considered and I can't express how thankful I am for it.
For example, A Million Dollars Worth of Validation... she questioned me on it. My therapist said that the support I was seeking from family was like "asking someone with a buck in his pocket for a million dollars." My friend, however, asked, "A million dollars... a billion dollars... even if they had it, would it ever be enough?" NO. It wouldn't!! I'd get the million dollars and say, "Wait, is this it?" *I* haven't been able to define the support that I need. If you asked me specifically what I was after, I'd probably shrug my shoulders. I don't know! I ask for an apple, so you give me one. Then, I stare blankly at the apple and think, "Hmm... didn't I want an orange instead?"
Please, try to understand, it's not a matter of being indecisive, whiny or finicky. Try to think of it this way - what you really want is for someone to say, "I love you." You're not secure enough inside to offer it to yourself, so you think that someone else saying it will help. So they do. They walk up to you one day, hug you and say, "God, I love you." It's exactly what you wanted. Yet, now that you have it, you have NO idea what the hell to do with it. You stiffen up, say, "Um, thanks?", and walk away confused and even a little angry because it's not what you expected.
Confusing, isn't it?
I could go on and on about our talk and, thankfully with her permission, I will reference it quite a bit. Another item discussed was a book entitled, The Happiness Hypothesis. I was so intrigued by her description that I went to Borders immediately after leaving and bought it. The author wastes no time and dives straight into psychological analogies that click. He references quotes by Buddha and Plato, comparing our subconscious mind to that of an elephant, and our conscious ego to the elephant's rider. The elephant is our emotion, basic human desire, the id. We can never ever hope to 'control' it. We, ego hungry riders, need to learn to ride in harmony with our elephants. If you want to make your elephant turn, you don't yank the reins and scream, "GO THAT WAY!!" It's a freakin' elephant! They're big, fast... and you don't get in the way when they want something badly enough. You learn to coax the elephant, rather, by tugging gently one way or the other, a little at a time, until you find yourself pointed in the right direction. In a way, you 'let up'.
To me, it simply makes sense. I can see how hard I've been pulling the reins and how little direction I have as a result of my actions. I'm tired. I've been sitting atop my elephant, pulling as hard as I can, and I'm worn out. To think, all I've had to do is turn it a little at a time.
I also received a wonderful gift from her, one she figured I'd appreciate. It's a bag of small charms, each with its own engraved suggestion. My favorite and one that will stay in my pocket next to my sobriety coin -
"Take a breath."
Can't thank her enough for the day that I had. Although I will probably write tomorrow (writing is starting to feel automatic), I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. Enjoy the holidays and leave your stress alone for a few days. It's not going anywhere.
Two riders dismounted today and discussed their elephants. For three hours. Three, profound hours.
I'd be remiss if I didn't use the word 'profound'. It was one of the best therapy sessions I've had in three years, punched into three hours, and there was so much more to say. Here was a woman who I haven't seen since college, basically, and it felt like we had never missed a beat. Thankfully, it was not someone who shared the same physical compulsions, but someone who clearly understood the deeper issues and could grasp the raw emotions of the condition. I can't write all about it now... there's simply too much. My mind is still spinning as I try to sort it all out.
Ah, some of you want to know about the party, first. Um... yeah, it wasn't easy. I'm grateful this evening that I work with someone who shares my nerd passions, because it allowed us to work while the craziness ensued in the office. The day began with Mimosas, whiskey balls and gummy bears. Oh, you poor, helpless, gooey, vodka-filled gummy bears. It was all so perverse. I felt bad for them.... so bad for them that I could not bring myself to eat said vodka-filled gummy bears. If someone tried that with sour patch kids, I might have a melt down. Look, even I have a limit, believe it or not. I don't want to be a downer and this actually has nothing to do with my problems. I just don't think it's entirely professional to bring vodka-soaked gummies into the workplace. I'm okay with the booze, but... really? Pretty sure that I and my coworker were the only people doing anything productive in the office. The only thing I had a tough time with, which surprised me, was seeing people walking around with glasses of scotch. That was MY drink during my divorce and something bit me on the back of my neck when I saw it. Maybe it was more of a nibble. It made me think nostalgically on the entire ordeal and I 'wanted' a glass. I didn't 'need' a glass, though, did I? And so my willpower kicked in and said, "Um, no pal. Keep being nerdy." I listened.
It certainly was a good time, though. Ugh, the foooooood!!! So much damn food! All of it was incredible. A few people came to work simply to continue drinking from the night before and their hangovers looked pretty awful. I don't miss that, although I haven't had a hangover in years and years. I never got hangovers... because I was always drunk in the morning. A friend of mine quips, "If you woke up with a hangover, then it meant you didn't drink enough the night before." Indeed. By 1:30, I had enough of the internal bickering between ego and id and left for my coffee 'date'.
The meetings have been great lately and I'm so glad to be back with my therapist, but I NEEDED this (one of our topics... need vs. want). It was a victory just getting together. I'm such a massive isolationist and haven't been able to express myself for years, so I am a good one for making plans and then canceling at the last minute. My intentions are pure - I really do want to get together with my friends - yet I chicken out at the 11th hour (good game, by the way). Anyway, she made me see things in ways that I hadn't considered and I can't express how thankful I am for it.
For example, A Million Dollars Worth of Validation... she questioned me on it. My therapist said that the support I was seeking from family was like "asking someone with a buck in his pocket for a million dollars." My friend, however, asked, "A million dollars... a billion dollars... even if they had it, would it ever be enough?" NO. It wouldn't!! I'd get the million dollars and say, "Wait, is this it?" *I* haven't been able to define the support that I need. If you asked me specifically what I was after, I'd probably shrug my shoulders. I don't know! I ask for an apple, so you give me one. Then, I stare blankly at the apple and think, "Hmm... didn't I want an orange instead?"
Please, try to understand, it's not a matter of being indecisive, whiny or finicky. Try to think of it this way - what you really want is for someone to say, "I love you." You're not secure enough inside to offer it to yourself, so you think that someone else saying it will help. So they do. They walk up to you one day, hug you and say, "God, I love you." It's exactly what you wanted. Yet, now that you have it, you have NO idea what the hell to do with it. You stiffen up, say, "Um, thanks?", and walk away confused and even a little angry because it's not what you expected.
Confusing, isn't it?
I could go on and on about our talk and, thankfully with her permission, I will reference it quite a bit. Another item discussed was a book entitled, The Happiness Hypothesis. I was so intrigued by her description that I went to Borders immediately after leaving and bought it. The author wastes no time and dives straight into psychological analogies that click. He references quotes by Buddha and Plato, comparing our subconscious mind to that of an elephant, and our conscious ego to the elephant's rider. The elephant is our emotion, basic human desire, the id. We can never ever hope to 'control' it. We, ego hungry riders, need to learn to ride in harmony with our elephants. If you want to make your elephant turn, you don't yank the reins and scream, "GO THAT WAY!!" It's a freakin' elephant! They're big, fast... and you don't get in the way when they want something badly enough. You learn to coax the elephant, rather, by tugging gently one way or the other, a little at a time, until you find yourself pointed in the right direction. In a way, you 'let up'.
To me, it simply makes sense. I can see how hard I've been pulling the reins and how little direction I have as a result of my actions. I'm tired. I've been sitting atop my elephant, pulling as hard as I can, and I'm worn out. To think, all I've had to do is turn it a little at a time.
I also received a wonderful gift from her, one she figured I'd appreciate. It's a bag of small charms, each with its own engraved suggestion. My favorite and one that will stay in my pocket next to my sobriety coin -
"Take a breath."
Can't thank her enough for the day that I had. Although I will probably write tomorrow (writing is starting to feel automatic), I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. Enjoy the holidays and leave your stress alone for a few days. It's not going anywhere.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
It's Not a Big Deal... IT'S NOT A BIG @#%^ DEAL!!
Before I rant, I'm still surprised about yesterday's post. Thanks for the comments and the e-mails. I honestly thought it was kind of a filler entry. Therapy nights wear me the heck out. I love each of those sessions, but they can be mentally exhausting. Okay, on with the ranting!
W... T... F...
Sure, I went to the new meeting tonight. You know who wasn't there? My sponsor. You know who else wasn't there? Anybody freakin' else! Here I am, psyching myself up all day long, finally in the right mood for it, and not a soul was there. People, I know my church basements nowadays and this was prime location for a meeting. I can spot 'em a mile away. Instead, I walked 'round and 'round, like an idiot with a cup of coffee, and ended up driving back to Gardner via 2A. I think the icing on the cake was nearly missing a turn while Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas" was playing. I said a lot of things aloud that are still hanging somewhere over John Fitch Highway. Which is okay, because there are a lot of inappropriate things on John Fitch that should stay there and not be brought home with you.
I must've passed 157 liquor stores or bars on the way home, too. I found myself shaking my head at most of them, as if to say, "Why? Why must you all be open to serve? Don't you know how much that pisses me off??" Often, I forget that there are people on this planet who can tolerate drinking. I remember being that way, long ago... having a couple beers with friends over the course of a night, laughing, having fun. It WAS fun at some point. And alcohol did what I wanted it to when I needed it most. If I do a cost benefit analysis on alcohol, the pros are there and can't be ignored. But the cons list has grown so large, it's at least five times the size of the pros. As I answered last night, there is absolutely nothing enjoyable about drinking now. The fun is waaaaaay gone.
Which is why I get upset, I suppose, when I hear my coworkers talk about it all day. Well, maybe not ALL day, but enough. Joke after joke about needing a drink. "Hey, I heard there's an accident on 495. Hope it was a Stoli's truck." Grrrrr. And that's all I'm going to hear tomorrow. We're having a holiday party at noon and people have been talking about getting hammered for a week. Why is it so damned important, especially around this time of year? It's frustrating!!
But then I remember... they can joke about it and get back to work. "Normies" (hehehe... I like to call you that... "normies") talk about getting a drink or joke about getting a drink. Then, they let it drop. Me, I hear someone talk about drinking and I sit at my desk half the day thinking about it. "Don't wanna drink. Don't wanna drink. Damn, wish I could drink. NO! Don't wanna drink. Don't wanna drink..." Talk about a red flag. I had no idea that I was doing it for years. Literally, years! Except, during that time, I was thinking, "I can't wait to get home for a drink. Hoooo man, I'm so going to drink tonight. Maybe I'll eat something, too. Hmmm... Domino's sounds good tonight. Better order early, though. Don't want to be too drunk when the delivery guy gets here. Speaking of drunk, that sounds good. I should do that tonight."
Side note: I can't tell you how many mornings I'd wake up with half a pizza and a box of wings and think, "Where'd I get these?" Shaking my head as I write this...
Anyway, tomorrow isn't going to be easy, though I was reminded that all I have to say is, "No, thank you." I have several 'outs'. 1) I have to pick up my son. 2) I'm on medication. 3) I'm psychotic. 4) You won't like me when I'm green and angry. The list goes on and on. BUT the best one is - I'm meeting a friend for coffee and I don't want to smell drunk. And that one is true! I can't wait!!
I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. People can drink around me and I really don't care. It's the number of people and their attitude that gets to me. That's when I start thinking, "Wellllll, one won't kill me." Unfortunately, it really will. Friends drink around me now and then and I don't give it a care in the world. But I remember when the beer cart came around at work during the summer and I can tell you that there were 419 droplets of sweat on my coworker's beer when he set it near me. 419, no lie, of which 78 landed on my desk. It was a hot day and that was one really cold beer.
Hey, life goes on, right? The world isn't going to stop drinking for me and, although I've yelled quite loudly at my TV regarding the issue, they will not stop advertising booze during the Pats game just because it drives lil' ol' me nuts. I'll get over it because there's a lot to do in life while not drinking. I've simply overlooked it all. And when I'm doing well, I often catch myself thinking about a drink and then I say, "Wait... if I drink, I won't be able to hike," for example. I have a hell of a lot more fun being active than I do while drinking (there's no high like a runner's high). And what about simply enjoying others? I regret a lot of things in life, most of which I need to drop, not the least of which is drinking when my son was a teeny-tiny tater tot. I was around and available, but I didn't enjoy it with a clear head most nights. That obsessive thinking had a hold on me and was squeezing tightly.
No matter how much you love someone, addiction will still kill you if you try to get sober for them and not for yourself.
So, tomorrow, I will remember that I'm working hard and that I'm worth keeping on this planet a little while longer. Drink if you'd like, but it's not something I can do. It shouldn't be a big deal. *I* make it the main attraction when it's really just a sideshow.
One salted caramel mocha latte comin' my way tomorrow. If Starbucks doesn't offer it anymore, then I'll add it to my resentment list and burn it after the meeting tomorrow night.
Do you think Jack Bauer drinks salted caramel mocha lattes?
W... T... F...
Sure, I went to the new meeting tonight. You know who wasn't there? My sponsor. You know who else wasn't there? Anybody freakin' else! Here I am, psyching myself up all day long, finally in the right mood for it, and not a soul was there. People, I know my church basements nowadays and this was prime location for a meeting. I can spot 'em a mile away. Instead, I walked 'round and 'round, like an idiot with a cup of coffee, and ended up driving back to Gardner via 2A. I think the icing on the cake was nearly missing a turn while Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas" was playing. I said a lot of things aloud that are still hanging somewhere over John Fitch Highway. Which is okay, because there are a lot of inappropriate things on John Fitch that should stay there and not be brought home with you.
I must've passed 157 liquor stores or bars on the way home, too. I found myself shaking my head at most of them, as if to say, "Why? Why must you all be open to serve? Don't you know how much that pisses me off??" Often, I forget that there are people on this planet who can tolerate drinking. I remember being that way, long ago... having a couple beers with friends over the course of a night, laughing, having fun. It WAS fun at some point. And alcohol did what I wanted it to when I needed it most. If I do a cost benefit analysis on alcohol, the pros are there and can't be ignored. But the cons list has grown so large, it's at least five times the size of the pros. As I answered last night, there is absolutely nothing enjoyable about drinking now. The fun is waaaaaay gone.
Which is why I get upset, I suppose, when I hear my coworkers talk about it all day. Well, maybe not ALL day, but enough. Joke after joke about needing a drink. "Hey, I heard there's an accident on 495. Hope it was a Stoli's truck." Grrrrr. And that's all I'm going to hear tomorrow. We're having a holiday party at noon and people have been talking about getting hammered for a week. Why is it so damned important, especially around this time of year? It's frustrating!!
But then I remember... they can joke about it and get back to work. "Normies" (hehehe... I like to call you that... "normies") talk about getting a drink or joke about getting a drink. Then, they let it drop. Me, I hear someone talk about drinking and I sit at my desk half the day thinking about it. "Don't wanna drink. Don't wanna drink. Damn, wish I could drink. NO! Don't wanna drink. Don't wanna drink..." Talk about a red flag. I had no idea that I was doing it for years. Literally, years! Except, during that time, I was thinking, "I can't wait to get home for a drink. Hoooo man, I'm so going to drink tonight. Maybe I'll eat something, too. Hmmm... Domino's sounds good tonight. Better order early, though. Don't want to be too drunk when the delivery guy gets here. Speaking of drunk, that sounds good. I should do that tonight."
Side note: I can't tell you how many mornings I'd wake up with half a pizza and a box of wings and think, "Where'd I get these?" Shaking my head as I write this...
Anyway, tomorrow isn't going to be easy, though I was reminded that all I have to say is, "No, thank you." I have several 'outs'. 1) I have to pick up my son. 2) I'm on medication. 3) I'm psychotic. 4) You won't like me when I'm green and angry. The list goes on and on. BUT the best one is - I'm meeting a friend for coffee and I don't want to smell drunk. And that one is true! I can't wait!!
I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. People can drink around me and I really don't care. It's the number of people and their attitude that gets to me. That's when I start thinking, "Wellllll, one won't kill me." Unfortunately, it really will. Friends drink around me now and then and I don't give it a care in the world. But I remember when the beer cart came around at work during the summer and I can tell you that there were 419 droplets of sweat on my coworker's beer when he set it near me. 419, no lie, of which 78 landed on my desk. It was a hot day and that was one really cold beer.
Hey, life goes on, right? The world isn't going to stop drinking for me and, although I've yelled quite loudly at my TV regarding the issue, they will not stop advertising booze during the Pats game just because it drives lil' ol' me nuts. I'll get over it because there's a lot to do in life while not drinking. I've simply overlooked it all. And when I'm doing well, I often catch myself thinking about a drink and then I say, "Wait... if I drink, I won't be able to hike," for example. I have a hell of a lot more fun being active than I do while drinking (there's no high like a runner's high). And what about simply enjoying others? I regret a lot of things in life, most of which I need to drop, not the least of which is drinking when my son was a teeny-tiny tater tot. I was around and available, but I didn't enjoy it with a clear head most nights. That obsessive thinking had a hold on me and was squeezing tightly.
No matter how much you love someone, addiction will still kill you if you try to get sober for them and not for yourself.
So, tomorrow, I will remember that I'm working hard and that I'm worth keeping on this planet a little while longer. Drink if you'd like, but it's not something I can do. It shouldn't be a big deal. *I* make it the main attraction when it's really just a sideshow.
One salted caramel mocha latte comin' my way tomorrow. If Starbucks doesn't offer it anymore, then I'll add it to my resentment list and burn it after the meeting tomorrow night.
Do you think Jack Bauer drinks salted caramel mocha lattes?
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Spin Monster
I'll come right out and say it... I'm copping two major resentments tonight.
1. I've been told that they've brought back Sour Cream n' Onion Doritos. That was going to be dinner and I was looking forward to it. Couldn't find them at the grocery store. #@%^ing grocery store!
2. I've been told by my sponsor that I am going to a new meeting tomorrow night, whether I like it or not. WTF. Doesn't he know how important I am and how little time I've had lately?! This is crap! I mean, sure, I keep bitching about the Thursday night meeting in Gardner (I don't know why... I just don't really like it. No real reason), but I bitch so I don't have to go!! Now I'm being told that, not only am I going, but he's meeting me there. So mad!
*sigh* Figured I'd squeeze in an entry tonight because the holiday is here and these will now slow down (maybe... maybe not). My therapist is the perfect fit for me, but she gave me homework, which also will slow the blogging. I think that might be resentment #3. We talked about cyclical thinking this evening and the work it's going to take to remove it. For example, a woman looks in the mirror and says, "Ugh, I'm fat." Suddenly, without realizing it, she says, "Ugh, I'm fat and unshapely." She's putting on her clothes and says, "Ugh, I'm fat and unshapely and nobody's going to want me like this. Who's going to love me?" Finally, "Ugh! I'm fat and unshapely!! Nobody's going to love me and I'm going to live my life lonely... I'm going to die an old maid." Now, apply that to an alcoholic or addict... that's my homework. To identify my cyclical thinking.
You'd think this would be easy, right? Let's take the chronic relapsing example -
"Ugh. I'm an alcoholic."
"Ugh. I'm an alcoholic and I just can't get this under control."
"Ugh! I'm an alcoholic, can't get this under control and keep relapsing. I'm so ashamed! I don't mean to!"
"Ugh!! I'm a chronic relapser and ashamed of myself. Nobody's ever going to want an alcoholic like me."
"Ugh!! I'm a relapser, worthless and unlovable. I have no support and nobody's ever going to want me."
"Fuck it. Nobody wants me. May as well drink."
The problem is that this cyclical thinking is so automatic, it's hard to trace back. The example above was easy because I've had all night to think about it. But when I'm in relapse mode, it feels like I'm STARTING with "Fuck it. Nobody wants me. May as well drink." I miss everything leading up to it.
The good news (yes, there is good news!!) is that I saw this last relapse coming a mile away. That's different than the others I've had. So why didn't I do something about it? I don't know! It's not like I didn't care. I cared very, very much! I saw my anger level rising, knew I was cutting back on meetings and spending more time at work, and even thought, "Uh oh... this is bad news. Really bad news." Again, I didn't want to bother anyone with my 'woes'. I let everything fester until the cyclical thinking was spinning so damned fast that I couldn't stop it. I was perfectly content to sit alone in a dark motel room and drink liter after liter of vodka. My therapist asked me tonight, "Was there anything enjoyable about it this time?" Nope. Not one thing - zero to sixty with no buzz in between. Hmph... she thinks I might be an alcoholic.
I suppose this is like REBT. That's a form of behavioral training which essentially states all emotions begin with a thought. If you can identify the thought, then you can control the emotion. So my "Fuck it. Nobody wants me" is more of a feeling... it's loneliness combined with deep resentment for the disease. Right? I don't actually go around saying "Nobody wants me". I just feel that way. The trick is halting the negative feeling the moment it hits my gut. Like, WOW, this is an awful feeling.... so I wonder why I'm feeling it in the first place? Then you begin to trace it back. What was I thinking about right before I felt it? Something HAD to have crossed my mind. Oh right! "I have no support and nobody's going to want me." Woah... that's really negative! Why did I think THAT? Oooooooh, "I'm a chronic relapser and ashamed of myself." On and on you go until you identify the initiating thought. It takes a lot of work, but if you can find that first thought, then you can work on stopping it. So, "Ugh. I'm an alcoholic" becomes, "Yeah, I'm an alcoholic. But I'm DOING something about it. Good job, man."
That's the kind of spin I like.
Once again, it has little to do with alcoholism and more to do with a plain ol' negative, sick mind. Though, I know, without a doubt, that I'll never be able to work this out if I do pick up a drink. The second I pick up, my mind spirals, I get depressed and there's no handling the thinking process. I'm done. Put a fork in me.
No football analogies or jokes about this tonight. I realize it's serious business and it almost killed me... a few times. Three liters a day?? HOW did I do that? But after going through it all and acknowledging that I could trace back all of the symptoms of my relapse, she said something that I considered very sweet... "I think you're nearing the end of your autobiography (with active alcoholism)." She sees a man that is going to continue on. That man is going to love everything about life, love others and even love himself. No more anger and no more resentment. She's seeing a shining light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
God, I Hope so. I can't describe how tiring it can be some days. Today, though, has come and gone. Another 24 hours in my pocket. But I won't drink to that...
Several very full days ahead and I'm looking forward to them. I hope you are, too.
1. I've been told that they've brought back Sour Cream n' Onion Doritos. That was going to be dinner and I was looking forward to it. Couldn't find them at the grocery store. #@%^ing grocery store!
2. I've been told by my sponsor that I am going to a new meeting tomorrow night, whether I like it or not. WTF. Doesn't he know how important I am and how little time I've had lately?! This is crap! I mean, sure, I keep bitching about the Thursday night meeting in Gardner (I don't know why... I just don't really like it. No real reason), but I bitch so I don't have to go!! Now I'm being told that, not only am I going, but he's meeting me there. So mad!
*sigh* Figured I'd squeeze in an entry tonight because the holiday is here and these will now slow down (maybe... maybe not). My therapist is the perfect fit for me, but she gave me homework, which also will slow the blogging. I think that might be resentment #3. We talked about cyclical thinking this evening and the work it's going to take to remove it. For example, a woman looks in the mirror and says, "Ugh, I'm fat." Suddenly, without realizing it, she says, "Ugh, I'm fat and unshapely." She's putting on her clothes and says, "Ugh, I'm fat and unshapely and nobody's going to want me like this. Who's going to love me?" Finally, "Ugh! I'm fat and unshapely!! Nobody's going to love me and I'm going to live my life lonely... I'm going to die an old maid." Now, apply that to an alcoholic or addict... that's my homework. To identify my cyclical thinking.
You'd think this would be easy, right? Let's take the chronic relapsing example -
"Ugh. I'm an alcoholic."
"Ugh. I'm an alcoholic and I just can't get this under control."
"Ugh! I'm an alcoholic, can't get this under control and keep relapsing. I'm so ashamed! I don't mean to!"
"Ugh!! I'm a chronic relapser and ashamed of myself. Nobody's ever going to want an alcoholic like me."
"Ugh!! I'm a relapser, worthless and unlovable. I have no support and nobody's ever going to want me."
"Fuck it. Nobody wants me. May as well drink."
The problem is that this cyclical thinking is so automatic, it's hard to trace back. The example above was easy because I've had all night to think about it. But when I'm in relapse mode, it feels like I'm STARTING with "Fuck it. Nobody wants me. May as well drink." I miss everything leading up to it.
The good news (yes, there is good news!!) is that I saw this last relapse coming a mile away. That's different than the others I've had. So why didn't I do something about it? I don't know! It's not like I didn't care. I cared very, very much! I saw my anger level rising, knew I was cutting back on meetings and spending more time at work, and even thought, "Uh oh... this is bad news. Really bad news." Again, I didn't want to bother anyone with my 'woes'. I let everything fester until the cyclical thinking was spinning so damned fast that I couldn't stop it. I was perfectly content to sit alone in a dark motel room and drink liter after liter of vodka. My therapist asked me tonight, "Was there anything enjoyable about it this time?" Nope. Not one thing - zero to sixty with no buzz in between. Hmph... she thinks I might be an alcoholic.
I suppose this is like REBT. That's a form of behavioral training which essentially states all emotions begin with a thought. If you can identify the thought, then you can control the emotion. So my "Fuck it. Nobody wants me" is more of a feeling... it's loneliness combined with deep resentment for the disease. Right? I don't actually go around saying "Nobody wants me". I just feel that way. The trick is halting the negative feeling the moment it hits my gut. Like, WOW, this is an awful feeling.... so I wonder why I'm feeling it in the first place? Then you begin to trace it back. What was I thinking about right before I felt it? Something HAD to have crossed my mind. Oh right! "I have no support and nobody's going to want me." Woah... that's really negative! Why did I think THAT? Oooooooh, "I'm a chronic relapser and ashamed of myself." On and on you go until you identify the initiating thought. It takes a lot of work, but if you can find that first thought, then you can work on stopping it. So, "Ugh. I'm an alcoholic" becomes, "Yeah, I'm an alcoholic. But I'm DOING something about it. Good job, man."
That's the kind of spin I like.
Once again, it has little to do with alcoholism and more to do with a plain ol' negative, sick mind. Though, I know, without a doubt, that I'll never be able to work this out if I do pick up a drink. The second I pick up, my mind spirals, I get depressed and there's no handling the thinking process. I'm done. Put a fork in me.
No football analogies or jokes about this tonight. I realize it's serious business and it almost killed me... a few times. Three liters a day?? HOW did I do that? But after going through it all and acknowledging that I could trace back all of the symptoms of my relapse, she said something that I considered very sweet... "I think you're nearing the end of your autobiography (with active alcoholism)." She sees a man that is going to continue on. That man is going to love everything about life, love others and even love himself. No more anger and no more resentment. She's seeing a shining light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
God, I Hope so. I can't describe how tiring it can be some days. Today, though, has come and gone. Another 24 hours in my pocket. But I won't drink to that...
Several very full days ahead and I'm looking forward to them. I hope you are, too.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Open Up and Say "AAAACCCCCKKKK!!!!"
Damn you, blog!! If I wasn't so fired up after a GREAT meeting tonight, then I wouldn't be writing at all. I hate when people say, "They're all great." Nah, not really. THIS was a great meeting... all about resentments. Not only did I have to speak up about how ridiculous my mind works, I needed to hear others speak about their experiences and know that I'm not the only one who stays up at night saying, "That son of a bitch who cut me off today... I hope I see him tomorrow! I'm sooooo going to get him!" And, of course, I needed to hear about how to let that stupid crap go.
I've lived most of my life with some pretty severe resentments and didn't even know it until I started seeing a therapist. I thought I was just a little pissy sometimes and, of course, felt it was my right to be that way. When 'Empire Strikes Back' was re-released, I went to see it with my ex and got reeeeally pissed off because the girl behind me kept kicking my chair - AND I STILL THINK ABOUT IT!! Now, if I still think about that, then I might, just might, be carrying some hefty resentments about some 'other' things.
If I look back upon my relapses in the past three years, then I can tell you each of them was the result of a heavy resentment that completely ate me inside. The worst part about my resentments... is that I make them *my* resentments. Somewhere after the stage where I lash out inappropriately at others because I'm pissed off, I start thinking, "Oh crap... maybe it IS all my fault!!" I feel guilty, I don't want to bother others with it, I become ashamed and <pop> I drink. (Notice a lot of those in my entries? <bam> <pop> <poof> I drink.)
Resentments... I've got to work on them. But as I shared tonight, I don't have to work on them all at the same time. I'm horrible about that. I've identified so many of them and I try to tackle them simultaneously, which only cripples me. I become overwhelmed and can't make that swim forward. Again, it takes so much energy to do it all, it's no wonder I relapse. It's like wearing leg shackles... eventually, you can't move.
So, I would never share who said what and blah blah blah. It was a long day, but completely worth it to hear what I did. Just another thing to talk about tomorrow night with the therapist. Freakin' love therapy night. Maybe I am nuts...
At this point, my coping is all screwed up and my days are still up and down, so how do I deal with resentments NOW? Well, I will admit that I do talk to a Higher Power, as they say in AA. And the more I write about Hope, the more Hope has filled that spiritual hole. I feel comforted when I know Hope is on my side. When I've got something bothering me, I point my eyes skyward and think, "My goal is to be a decent and compassionate man and I know that man is somewhere inside me (hence, Hope) - so how would he deal with this situation?" It helps - immensely.
The second way is to talk about it with others... and I'm AWFUL doing that. It reminded me about a line in a book, though. This is from the book, "Love Is the Best Medicine":
~Do we need these dark hours to discover who we really are? For those open to discovery, is it possible that in every crisis, every struggle or tragedy, another truth exists? Perhaps the only real challenge is whether or not we have what it takes to acknowledge this truth and speak it out loud.~
That tells me there's a lesson to be learned every time I decide to take the wrong road. Every time I hold a resentment, twist it upon myself, let a negative thought rent that space in my head - there's a truth that I'm probably ignoring or don't quite see. The only way I'm going to conquer these things is by having the courage to talk them out with others. I need to remember that I am NOT the only guy on this planet and, chances are, someone around me has gone through these negative emotions before and can offer me advice to make things a hell of a lot easier. Sometimes I don't even have to talk specifically about the situation. I'm finding that people are okay if I pick up the phone and say, "Mind if I scream for a moment? YAAAAAARRRRRGGGG!!!" And all of those coping mechanisms that I said I lack? They're in front of me to be learned if I acknowledge and speak the truth about what's going on in my life. I have to be honest with others and, especially, myself. This blog is certainly helping.
Have a wonderful night all! And if you feel like flipping someone off in the morning during your commute because they cut you off, I suggest doing what I did - don't. LOL. Look up, instead, and say, "Sorry! Sorry! Um, didn't mean it. I'll be good." I felt better about it all day long.
I've lived most of my life with some pretty severe resentments and didn't even know it until I started seeing a therapist. I thought I was just a little pissy sometimes and, of course, felt it was my right to be that way. When 'Empire Strikes Back' was re-released, I went to see it with my ex and got reeeeally pissed off because the girl behind me kept kicking my chair - AND I STILL THINK ABOUT IT!! Now, if I still think about that, then I might, just might, be carrying some hefty resentments about some 'other' things.
If I look back upon my relapses in the past three years, then I can tell you each of them was the result of a heavy resentment that completely ate me inside. The worst part about my resentments... is that I make them *my* resentments. Somewhere after the stage where I lash out inappropriately at others because I'm pissed off, I start thinking, "Oh crap... maybe it IS all my fault!!" I feel guilty, I don't want to bother others with it, I become ashamed and <pop> I drink. (Notice a lot of those in my entries? <bam> <pop> <poof> I drink.)
Resentments... I've got to work on them. But as I shared tonight, I don't have to work on them all at the same time. I'm horrible about that. I've identified so many of them and I try to tackle them simultaneously, which only cripples me. I become overwhelmed and can't make that swim forward. Again, it takes so much energy to do it all, it's no wonder I relapse. It's like wearing leg shackles... eventually, you can't move.
So, I would never share who said what and blah blah blah. It was a long day, but completely worth it to hear what I did. Just another thing to talk about tomorrow night with the therapist. Freakin' love therapy night. Maybe I am nuts...
At this point, my coping is all screwed up and my days are still up and down, so how do I deal with resentments NOW? Well, I will admit that I do talk to a Higher Power, as they say in AA. And the more I write about Hope, the more Hope has filled that spiritual hole. I feel comforted when I know Hope is on my side. When I've got something bothering me, I point my eyes skyward and think, "My goal is to be a decent and compassionate man and I know that man is somewhere inside me (hence, Hope) - so how would he deal with this situation?" It helps - immensely.
The second way is to talk about it with others... and I'm AWFUL doing that. It reminded me about a line in a book, though. This is from the book, "Love Is the Best Medicine":
~Do we need these dark hours to discover who we really are? For those open to discovery, is it possible that in every crisis, every struggle or tragedy, another truth exists? Perhaps the only real challenge is whether or not we have what it takes to acknowledge this truth and speak it out loud.~
That tells me there's a lesson to be learned every time I decide to take the wrong road. Every time I hold a resentment, twist it upon myself, let a negative thought rent that space in my head - there's a truth that I'm probably ignoring or don't quite see. The only way I'm going to conquer these things is by having the courage to talk them out with others. I need to remember that I am NOT the only guy on this planet and, chances are, someone around me has gone through these negative emotions before and can offer me advice to make things a hell of a lot easier. Sometimes I don't even have to talk specifically about the situation. I'm finding that people are okay if I pick up the phone and say, "Mind if I scream for a moment? YAAAAAARRRRRGGGG!!!" And all of those coping mechanisms that I said I lack? They're in front of me to be learned if I acknowledge and speak the truth about what's going on in my life. I have to be honest with others and, especially, myself. This blog is certainly helping.
Have a wonderful night all! And if you feel like flipping someone off in the morning during your commute because they cut you off, I suggest doing what I did - don't. LOL. Look up, instead, and say, "Sorry! Sorry! Um, didn't mean it. I'll be good." I felt better about it all day long.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Defect or Defense?
I'm going to try VERY hard to keep this short tonight (sure I am). The next few nights are going to be late ones, but I made a promise to myself to write at least a little every day. I may not be able to keep that promise... not if I want to wake up in time for work. First of all, I need to say Thank You once again for those of you who have been reading and especially to those who have e-mailed me with your own stories. I'm reconnecting with people who I haven't seen in years and it's making me feel, well, connected! I am looking forward to my coffee date - you know who you are (can't wait, J)!! If I haven't responded to an e-mail, please know that I will get to you. Someone suggested that I might not want to respond, but that will never be true. Not under these circumstances. The support is too important to me. Isolation is poison.
Hey, another okay day and on a Monday no less! 20 days, my friends. 20, long, excruciating days. I can feel it getting easier by the hour (well, SOME hours). I was driving to work this morning, the dusk was beautiful, the music was good and the coffee was... eh, the coffee was adequate. Honestly, I have very little in the way of inspiration tonight except to say that things were okay! Sorry, folks! If you were expecting something special, then you might be disappointed.
I will mention something that's been on my mind, though. It's a little anti-AA, which may cause some friends to say, "Oh shit... he's trying to do it HIS way again." I find AA to be a bit... defeatist... in some areas. Discouraging. Don't get me wrong, I love the tenets, the people, the suggestions. The program and the people have been saving my life. If you're an alcoholic or addict and AA or NA hasn't worked for you, then I understand. People drop their addictions in different ways and I respect that. WHATEVER WORKS TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!! This is a matter of my own perspective that I need to change. So, in reality, it has nothing to do with AA. It's a matter of my stinkin' thinkin', as they call it.
Anyway, I was watching / listening to the Pats game this weekend and WOW does our defense stink. Sure, they forced some turnovers that ultimately let us put up points, but sheesh!! And I caught myself thinking, "Is this an adequate defense or is there something really wrong here??" And that, strangely, made me think about my therapist and defense versus defects. How's that for a segue?
There's a lot of talk in AA about character defects and it's part of the step work - asking for those character defects to be taken away. Things like pride, ego, temper. Since my relapse, I've been thinking about mine and how they took me down that dark road again. What exactly caught me? Fear. Pride. Anger. It was depressing me, to be honest. So I started thinking about therapy and how she interprets these 'defects' of character.
These aren't defects. It's defense. We learn these things at a very young age. They're our coping mechanisms. When we're yelled at or bullied as kids, what do we do? Lash out, maybe. Isolate, perhaps. And we carry these 'qualities' into our adult lives. Without this defense, we would crumble as children. And, please... I'm not try psychoanalyze anybody (but myself). Most people learn new ways to cope as they grow older. Ahhhh, but not me!!
The trouble with addicts and alcoholics is that we keep doing these things as adults and they don't freakin' work! That's how I started my drinking career. My wife left me, I isolated (and yelled and screamed and punched walls) and it was the wrong way to deal with the situation. I didn't know how to cope - unless I drank. And a lot of people drink to 'numb' themselves, but I can honestly tell you that I drank to cry. I didn't know how to grieve the loss. If I started drinking, though, then the tears flowed nonstop. I think I needed that catharsis, but couldn't do it without something in me.
Not only that, when you start drinking, you stop growing. So I took an opportunity to learn new skills, albeit a painful opportunity, and threw it out the window because scotch was a hell of a lot easier.
My point is this (yes, there is a point)... when I hear about character defects, I think about things that are 'wrong' with me and it's a real drag. But if I think about it as a faulty defense, then suddenly it becomes something correctable. I think to myself, "Ooooooh, THAT'S why I act that way... maybe if I shift this or realign that, I can put up a few points of my own." It forces a turnover. I can cause a turnover and get Tom Brady back on my field, ya know? My mediocre defense becomes a powerful offense, one that might just win me a game or two.
Because, ultimately, that's all I'm looking for. I only want to win today. You wonder why players always say the same thing in interviews? "We're just looking to the next game. We'll deal with xxx when the time comes." That's all I'm after. I just want to get through one day. When tomorrow comes, I'll deal with it then.
And when I forget all of the above... I'm screwed. I project to the post-season, forget about the game I'm supposed to be playing TODAY and <boom> I drink. And the funny thing is, all it takes to shift my defense is the little things... making a gratitude list when I'm feeling a bit down, hitting a meeting, calling a friend, writing. That's all it takes! But I can't be bothered to do it. I land harder than Andre Carter. :(
So, to hell with the defects, for now. I'll watch the tapes, make adjustments to my D and, hopefully, tomorrow I'll pull another win. That's what I did today and it worked... rinse, repeat.
Today was a success. Another 24 hours!
Hey, another okay day and on a Monday no less! 20 days, my friends. 20, long, excruciating days. I can feel it getting easier by the hour (well, SOME hours). I was driving to work this morning, the dusk was beautiful, the music was good and the coffee was... eh, the coffee was adequate. Honestly, I have very little in the way of inspiration tonight except to say that things were okay! Sorry, folks! If you were expecting something special, then you might be disappointed.
I will mention something that's been on my mind, though. It's a little anti-AA, which may cause some friends to say, "Oh shit... he's trying to do it HIS way again." I find AA to be a bit... defeatist... in some areas. Discouraging. Don't get me wrong, I love the tenets, the people, the suggestions. The program and the people have been saving my life. If you're an alcoholic or addict and AA or NA hasn't worked for you, then I understand. People drop their addictions in different ways and I respect that. WHATEVER WORKS TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!! This is a matter of my own perspective that I need to change. So, in reality, it has nothing to do with AA. It's a matter of my stinkin' thinkin', as they call it.
Anyway, I was watching / listening to the Pats game this weekend and WOW does our defense stink. Sure, they forced some turnovers that ultimately let us put up points, but sheesh!! And I caught myself thinking, "Is this an adequate defense or is there something really wrong here??" And that, strangely, made me think about my therapist and defense versus defects. How's that for a segue?
There's a lot of talk in AA about character defects and it's part of the step work - asking for those character defects to be taken away. Things like pride, ego, temper. Since my relapse, I've been thinking about mine and how they took me down that dark road again. What exactly caught me? Fear. Pride. Anger. It was depressing me, to be honest. So I started thinking about therapy and how she interprets these 'defects' of character.
These aren't defects. It's defense. We learn these things at a very young age. They're our coping mechanisms. When we're yelled at or bullied as kids, what do we do? Lash out, maybe. Isolate, perhaps. And we carry these 'qualities' into our adult lives. Without this defense, we would crumble as children. And, please... I'm not try psychoanalyze anybody (but myself). Most people learn new ways to cope as they grow older. Ahhhh, but not me!!
The trouble with addicts and alcoholics is that we keep doing these things as adults and they don't freakin' work! That's how I started my drinking career. My wife left me, I isolated (and yelled and screamed and punched walls) and it was the wrong way to deal with the situation. I didn't know how to cope - unless I drank. And a lot of people drink to 'numb' themselves, but I can honestly tell you that I drank to cry. I didn't know how to grieve the loss. If I started drinking, though, then the tears flowed nonstop. I think I needed that catharsis, but couldn't do it without something in me.
Not only that, when you start drinking, you stop growing. So I took an opportunity to learn new skills, albeit a painful opportunity, and threw it out the window because scotch was a hell of a lot easier.
My point is this (yes, there is a point)... when I hear about character defects, I think about things that are 'wrong' with me and it's a real drag. But if I think about it as a faulty defense, then suddenly it becomes something correctable. I think to myself, "Ooooooh, THAT'S why I act that way... maybe if I shift this or realign that, I can put up a few points of my own." It forces a turnover. I can cause a turnover and get Tom Brady back on my field, ya know? My mediocre defense becomes a powerful offense, one that might just win me a game or two.
Because, ultimately, that's all I'm looking for. I only want to win today. You wonder why players always say the same thing in interviews? "We're just looking to the next game. We'll deal with xxx when the time comes." That's all I'm after. I just want to get through one day. When tomorrow comes, I'll deal with it then.
And when I forget all of the above... I'm screwed. I project to the post-season, forget about the game I'm supposed to be playing TODAY and <boom> I drink. And the funny thing is, all it takes to shift my defense is the little things... making a gratitude list when I'm feeling a bit down, hitting a meeting, calling a friend, writing. That's all it takes! But I can't be bothered to do it. I land harder than Andre Carter. :(
So, to hell with the defects, for now. I'll watch the tapes, make adjustments to my D and, hopefully, tomorrow I'll pull another win. That's what I did today and it worked... rinse, repeat.
Today was a success. Another 24 hours!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Chronos Relapso!
Yes, I was waving my Harry Potter wand while writing that title.
What a difference a day makes...Today was a good day. After a week that hung lower than a broken yo-yo, today was fantastic. Nothing extraordinary happened. But I was *grateful* for what I had. Gratitude, my friends. If you woke up this morning with any of the following - your health, family, friends - then say a little Thank You right now. I woke up with all three and, no matter how strained things may be, I still had 'em.
Two meetings with incredible messages... my AA friends asking how I was doing ("Better" was the response today; not "Good", but "Better")... I saw my son for lunch... got a couple of leads on apartments... and, how could I forget, an honest e-mail from an honest and caring friend. There was SO much to be thankful for. Just incredible. I'm trying to keep up with the e-mails streaming in tonight and it just isn't happening! I'm sorry everyone! I'm trying.
Also, I hope that everyone is grateful for *availability*. I think it's taken for granted far too often, to the point where you become bothered when someone asks a favor that may shift your plans or have you change your day. I woke up at a reasonable time this morning (another thing I'm grateful for... I GOT UP, alive and well) and saw a message asking for help. I responded and was able to give someone a ride. Seems like a little thing, doesn't it? But it wasn't to the person asking for help. I wanted to run errands. Instead, I gave this person a ride and it was like having a mini-AA meeting before my 10:30 meeting. I don't mention this to say, "Yay, Jonathan, for helping! Go you!" Just a few weeks ago, there was no asking for my help. There was no calling me. There was no contact. I was a ghost. Today, I was able to help and it felt amazing. I thank the person who asked because you helped me immensely. Had I not given you a ride, I may have spent my day in the same mood that I've been in all week... "Meh." Instead, you boosted my mood, listened to my story and helped me relate to yours.
Don't feel well about yourself today? Do a favor for someone else. It's a sure-cure.
So, this is really none of my business, but I do know that some people in AA are talking about me. It's an e-mail that I received that reminded me of this (and the e-mail was wonderful... it simply got me thinking). Now, I say that people are talking about me, but it's none of my business, right? That's one of the harder lessons that I learned through AA. "So and so said THIS about me! I'm so mad!!" "Well... why? Let them talk all they want." "But but but..." Honestly, what people say "about me" should not be "affecting me". People can say whatever they want. If you let it bother you, then you're renting out space in your head... and that space is YOURS. You shouldn't be renting it to anyone!
A terrible thought has moved into my mind
Like an unwanted room-mate drunk on wine
It feeds on my happiness won't pay the rent
I must take proper measures to evict it
Anyway, I'm being considered by some in AA as a "chronic relapser", which essentially means I'm bouncing. I get a little time, relapse... get a little time, relapse... rinse, repeat. Again, they can think that all they want (and you, reading this, may think that too! It's your right). The problem is that *I* thought that, as well. I usually get 3-4 months of sobriety and start to panic. The panic, strangely, leads to resentments. Once the resentments settle in.......... I'm all done. I've even raised my hand to share in meetings and started with, "Yep, I'm a chronic relapser." In three years of AA, I think to myself, "Well, shit, I should HAVE three years sobriety!" Doesn't work that way...
I was reminded at this morning's meeting that I've been in the program "bouncing" for three years, while it's taken some people thirty years of bouncing to put a few months together. I'm not trying to compare my time with anyone else - it was told to me in a "Don't you dare give up" kind of way. So I've had 4 months, 5 months, 8 months... over three years. I had been drinking for ten!! The time that I earned was a @#^ing miracle! I should be thanking God for that time. That makes me a chronic relapser??
So I'm setting the record straight. I'm not doing it because of pride or ego. I'm doing it to avoid self-sabotage, which has very nearly killed me (damn lucky my organs are not in pieces). If what I've done really does qualify as chronic relapse, then... I WAS a chronic relapser.
Did you hear me? I *WAS* a chronic relapser.
And that's where I am tonight (and just tonight). I *WAS* a chronic relapser. No more. I'm going to say it every day - morning, noon and night. I *WAS* a chronic relapser. As of today, Day 19, and tomorrow, Day 20, I am in Recovery. Hope is talking loudly tonight and, damn it, I'm listening. I *WAS* a chronic relapser. Now, I'm sober. I love you, Hope.
Look, I realize that tomorrow is a new day and anything can happen. I could decide by lunchtime that the stress of the day is too freakin' much, drive up the road, hit the package store and start this hideous ride all over again. But as of THIS moment, THIS is what I'm sticking with. Like I said, I could pick up tomorrow (like anyone else, whether you have 24 hours, 24 years or whether or not you've ever picked up a drink in your lifetime), but I don't want to. I'm finding that, possibly because I've written this so openly, I can't find a reservation this time. What I mean is that I could always find a reason to say, "Boy, I wish I could just have ONE beer some day." I can't seem to draw that up inside myself. It must've been the culmination of consequences this time that's making me *want* to do this.
Once again, I'm trying to write about my alcoholism, but have it identifiable to a wider audience. If there's something negative that's stuck in that head of yours, renting space and nibbling on your pride, then please do me a favor. Wake up tomorrow and say, "It's over. You've had your time... now get out." For me, it's that thought of being a chronic relapser.
I *WAS* a chronic relapser. Your time has come to move along. GET... OUT... NOW.
What a difference a day makes...Today was a good day. After a week that hung lower than a broken yo-yo, today was fantastic. Nothing extraordinary happened. But I was *grateful* for what I had. Gratitude, my friends. If you woke up this morning with any of the following - your health, family, friends - then say a little Thank You right now. I woke up with all three and, no matter how strained things may be, I still had 'em.
Two meetings with incredible messages... my AA friends asking how I was doing ("Better" was the response today; not "Good", but "Better")... I saw my son for lunch... got a couple of leads on apartments... and, how could I forget, an honest e-mail from an honest and caring friend. There was SO much to be thankful for. Just incredible. I'm trying to keep up with the e-mails streaming in tonight and it just isn't happening! I'm sorry everyone! I'm trying.
Also, I hope that everyone is grateful for *availability*. I think it's taken for granted far too often, to the point where you become bothered when someone asks a favor that may shift your plans or have you change your day. I woke up at a reasonable time this morning (another thing I'm grateful for... I GOT UP, alive and well) and saw a message asking for help. I responded and was able to give someone a ride. Seems like a little thing, doesn't it? But it wasn't to the person asking for help. I wanted to run errands. Instead, I gave this person a ride and it was like having a mini-AA meeting before my 10:30 meeting. I don't mention this to say, "Yay, Jonathan, for helping! Go you!" Just a few weeks ago, there was no asking for my help. There was no calling me. There was no contact. I was a ghost. Today, I was able to help and it felt amazing. I thank the person who asked because you helped me immensely. Had I not given you a ride, I may have spent my day in the same mood that I've been in all week... "Meh." Instead, you boosted my mood, listened to my story and helped me relate to yours.
Don't feel well about yourself today? Do a favor for someone else. It's a sure-cure.
So, this is really none of my business, but I do know that some people in AA are talking about me. It's an e-mail that I received that reminded me of this (and the e-mail was wonderful... it simply got me thinking). Now, I say that people are talking about me, but it's none of my business, right? That's one of the harder lessons that I learned through AA. "So and so said THIS about me! I'm so mad!!" "Well... why? Let them talk all they want." "But but but..." Honestly, what people say "about me" should not be "affecting me". People can say whatever they want. If you let it bother you, then you're renting out space in your head... and that space is YOURS. You shouldn't be renting it to anyone!
A terrible thought has moved into my mind
Like an unwanted room-mate drunk on wine
It feeds on my happiness won't pay the rent
I must take proper measures to evict it
Anyway, I'm being considered by some in AA as a "chronic relapser", which essentially means I'm bouncing. I get a little time, relapse... get a little time, relapse... rinse, repeat. Again, they can think that all they want (and you, reading this, may think that too! It's your right). The problem is that *I* thought that, as well. I usually get 3-4 months of sobriety and start to panic. The panic, strangely, leads to resentments. Once the resentments settle in.......... I'm all done. I've even raised my hand to share in meetings and started with, "Yep, I'm a chronic relapser." In three years of AA, I think to myself, "Well, shit, I should HAVE three years sobriety!" Doesn't work that way...
I was reminded at this morning's meeting that I've been in the program "bouncing" for three years, while it's taken some people thirty years of bouncing to put a few months together. I'm not trying to compare my time with anyone else - it was told to me in a "Don't you dare give up" kind of way. So I've had 4 months, 5 months, 8 months... over three years. I had been drinking for ten!! The time that I earned was a @#^ing miracle! I should be thanking God for that time. That makes me a chronic relapser??
So I'm setting the record straight. I'm not doing it because of pride or ego. I'm doing it to avoid self-sabotage, which has very nearly killed me (damn lucky my organs are not in pieces). If what I've done really does qualify as chronic relapse, then... I WAS a chronic relapser.
Did you hear me? I *WAS* a chronic relapser.
And that's where I am tonight (and just tonight). I *WAS* a chronic relapser. No more. I'm going to say it every day - morning, noon and night. I *WAS* a chronic relapser. As of today, Day 19, and tomorrow, Day 20, I am in Recovery. Hope is talking loudly tonight and, damn it, I'm listening. I *WAS* a chronic relapser. Now, I'm sober. I love you, Hope.
Look, I realize that tomorrow is a new day and anything can happen. I could decide by lunchtime that the stress of the day is too freakin' much, drive up the road, hit the package store and start this hideous ride all over again. But as of THIS moment, THIS is what I'm sticking with. Like I said, I could pick up tomorrow (like anyone else, whether you have 24 hours, 24 years or whether or not you've ever picked up a drink in your lifetime), but I don't want to. I'm finding that, possibly because I've written this so openly, I can't find a reservation this time. What I mean is that I could always find a reason to say, "Boy, I wish I could just have ONE beer some day." I can't seem to draw that up inside myself. It must've been the culmination of consequences this time that's making me *want* to do this.
Once again, I'm trying to write about my alcoholism, but have it identifiable to a wider audience. If there's something negative that's stuck in that head of yours, renting space and nibbling on your pride, then please do me a favor. Wake up tomorrow and say, "It's over. You've had your time... now get out." For me, it's that thought of being a chronic relapser.
I *WAS* a chronic relapser. Your time has come to move along. GET... OUT... NOW.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Not According to My Blurry Plan
For the record, I did follow my own advice. I walked outside this morning, looked up, irritated already, but still said, "Today will be okay with me." And it has been okay because I haven't taken a drink. Also, I was honest. I went to a meeting this afternoon and people asked me how I was doing. Here were my repsonses:
11:30am > "I'm good."
11:40am > "Eh, I'm all right."
11:50am > "Ugh. Not so good."
It doesn't benefit me in the least to sugarcoat my mood. Don't get me wrong... Hope is on my shoulder and she's telling me that it will all be okay, given patience and some work on my part. I am positive about this. But people need to know where I am at the given moment if they're to identify and help me. If I keep walking into a meeting with a smile on my face saying, "Hey, I'm great today!", then I'm going to be in deep trouble. It's not that I'm intentionally lying when I say things like that, but I feel like a "burden" by telling the truth. NO, I'm not okay! I'm hurt! I'm pissed off! I'm resentful! I'm seeing things in a new light and I don't like them. Not one bit. And that's life.
Because remember, I said that life is about simplicity. Simple does not mean easy. I have made some incredibly difficult and emotional decisions this week (and one today) that go against every fabric of my old character. There's only one way to grow, however, and that's to step outside your comfort zone. When you stay in that content, warm little bubble, you stop developing. You become stagnant. You become lazy.
A friend of mine is right - this has nothing to do with addiction or alcoholism. This is about anyone who might be reading this thinking, "I'm discontent. I need something different. I need a CHANGE."
Unfortunately, when you step outside that bubble, after being content for so damned long, a knot forms in your stomach and your feet feel like lead. Your knees buckle, your legs shake and you find yourself holding on for dear life. Literally, for some of us, it's life or death. And days like Thursday, where I had to take everything five minutes at a time, feel like forever and a day. I've already stepped outside my comfort zone by asking for help and making my admissions, but there's much more to come and you never quite know when a new move will have to be made.
I like this line from the song "Prostitute": "What would you say if I told you that I'm to blame? What would you do if I had to deny your name? And where would you go if I told you I loved you and then walked away?"
That's how I'm feeling about my life right now. The only way to make it better is to say Goodbye to an awful lot that meant everything to me - patterns and behaviors that aren't part of the lifestyle I'd like to live. You begin to realize how much you relied on others to fill the parts of you that weren't whole and how much work it's going to take to fill those gaps with self-worth. It's daunting... especially if you also have to say Goodbye to friends.
Maybe I shouldn't say Goodbye. Maybe it's "So long, for now." Take my son, for instance. I thank God and Hope that he's so young I'll have a chance (if I take it) to repair some of this wreckage and set a positive example for him. It means, however, keeping my distance and getting healthy. There's a reason I only see him once a week, for a couple of hours if I'm lucky. Dad needs to grow up, just like his son, and it means finding himself... growing outside that comfort zone.
But for others, it means really stepping back. Intentions are misunderstood, affections are misconstrued, damage become collateral. I don't want to do that to people. That's where "Blurry" comes in: "There are oceans in between us... but that's not very far." So, you know what? I will NOT say Goodbye to the people I have confided in throughout this journey. But if I get hung up on the distance I've created and the hurt I've caused, the oceans in between, then I'll stop swimming forward. I'll start treading water. I'll get content. I'll get lazy. And, eventually, I'll drown.
I wish I could've gone for a run today, but it was really freakin' cold with the wind. I didn't have the memory card I needed for my camera. I wasn't dressed well enough for a hike. Plans changed and I didn't like it. Thankfully, I was reminded that I don't have to be in control. Shit happens and that's not alcoholism. That's life.
So, I'm going > THIS WAY. If you would like to join me, then I would love to have you along for the ride. Otherwise, may our paths cross again - because I really do care and miss you very much.
Another meeting tonight because, well, I don't feel like it. And when I don't feel like it, it usually means I need to get my ass there!
"Look for a new beginning on you."
11:30am > "I'm good."
11:40am > "Eh, I'm all right."
11:50am > "Ugh. Not so good."
It doesn't benefit me in the least to sugarcoat my mood. Don't get me wrong... Hope is on my shoulder and she's telling me that it will all be okay, given patience and some work on my part. I am positive about this. But people need to know where I am at the given moment if they're to identify and help me. If I keep walking into a meeting with a smile on my face saying, "Hey, I'm great today!", then I'm going to be in deep trouble. It's not that I'm intentionally lying when I say things like that, but I feel like a "burden" by telling the truth. NO, I'm not okay! I'm hurt! I'm pissed off! I'm resentful! I'm seeing things in a new light and I don't like them. Not one bit. And that's life.
Because remember, I said that life is about simplicity. Simple does not mean easy. I have made some incredibly difficult and emotional decisions this week (and one today) that go against every fabric of my old character. There's only one way to grow, however, and that's to step outside your comfort zone. When you stay in that content, warm little bubble, you stop developing. You become stagnant. You become lazy.
A friend of mine is right - this has nothing to do with addiction or alcoholism. This is about anyone who might be reading this thinking, "I'm discontent. I need something different. I need a CHANGE."
Unfortunately, when you step outside that bubble, after being content for so damned long, a knot forms in your stomach and your feet feel like lead. Your knees buckle, your legs shake and you find yourself holding on for dear life. Literally, for some of us, it's life or death. And days like Thursday, where I had to take everything five minutes at a time, feel like forever and a day. I've already stepped outside my comfort zone by asking for help and making my admissions, but there's much more to come and you never quite know when a new move will have to be made.
I like this line from the song "Prostitute": "What would you say if I told you that I'm to blame? What would you do if I had to deny your name? And where would you go if I told you I loved you and then walked away?"
That's how I'm feeling about my life right now. The only way to make it better is to say Goodbye to an awful lot that meant everything to me - patterns and behaviors that aren't part of the lifestyle I'd like to live. You begin to realize how much you relied on others to fill the parts of you that weren't whole and how much work it's going to take to fill those gaps with self-worth. It's daunting... especially if you also have to say Goodbye to friends.
Maybe I shouldn't say Goodbye. Maybe it's "So long, for now." Take my son, for instance. I thank God and Hope that he's so young I'll have a chance (if I take it) to repair some of this wreckage and set a positive example for him. It means, however, keeping my distance and getting healthy. There's a reason I only see him once a week, for a couple of hours if I'm lucky. Dad needs to grow up, just like his son, and it means finding himself... growing outside that comfort zone.
But for others, it means really stepping back. Intentions are misunderstood, affections are misconstrued, damage become collateral. I don't want to do that to people. That's where "Blurry" comes in: "There are oceans in between us... but that's not very far." So, you know what? I will NOT say Goodbye to the people I have confided in throughout this journey. But if I get hung up on the distance I've created and the hurt I've caused, the oceans in between, then I'll stop swimming forward. I'll start treading water. I'll get content. I'll get lazy. And, eventually, I'll drown.
I wish I could've gone for a run today, but it was really freakin' cold with the wind. I didn't have the memory card I needed for my camera. I wasn't dressed well enough for a hike. Plans changed and I didn't like it. Thankfully, I was reminded that I don't have to be in control. Shit happens and that's not alcoholism. That's life.
So, I'm going > THIS WAY. If you would like to join me, then I would love to have you along for the ride. Otherwise, may our paths cross again - because I really do care and miss you very much.
Another meeting tonight because, well, I don't feel like it. And when I don't feel like it, it usually means I need to get my ass there!
"Look for a new beginning on you."
Friday, December 16, 2011
Dana the Dog and the Simple Man
Well, for those of you keeping up with the posts (I wonder how long I can keep these up??), yesterday was not the best day. I mean, man, 'a day at a time'? What the hell! I was barely making it through five minutes. I did trust that things would be better today, though I accepted that may not be true either, and I was right to trust - things were better. I felt more... stable. Work was a little less crazy, a little more distracting, a little more fun and the right amount of social atmosphere to keep me going. At five o'clock, I didn't say, "I should really catch up on my calls." I said, "See ya Monday... I'm DONE."
I was looking forward to the meeting tonight and it certainly was excellent - I've heard the incoming group several times and there's one person in particular who's always inspirational. I absolutely love hearing her because she makes me laugh and I relate at the same time. But I didn't leave the meeting feeling "good". I'm not there yet. There were some people that I absolutely enjoyed talking to and others that drove me nuts with the unrequested advice. TIME - "Things I Must Earn". It's okay coming from two people... one person who has been writing to me frequently to help me get through this rough patch (love ya!) and also my sponsor. I must've heard it from five other people tonight and I was about ready to throw a punch. The only reason I would never hit my sponsor is because I'm scrawny and he's huge and I would end up with two black eyes and ovaries instead of testicles. I like my testicles very much. I also left feeling lonely, even though I was surrounded by friends. That's the worst part about being an alcoholic. The inner loneliness that you can feel, surrounded by hundreds of people, is monstrous. It's why many people drink in the first place. The distance I'm feeling from very specific people is still killing me. It's a grief thing. Even though I was the irresponsible party, I'm grieving (that's why I was so unstable yesterday). I'm not going through each stage of grief one at a time. Instead, I'm vacillating between guilt, then denial, then guilt again with the loneliness, then anger, then bargaining, then guilt AGAIN. I've got to be honest... it blows. I wish I had something wittier to say about it. It simply blows. Am I drinking over it? HELLLLL NO. Yet, I also don't feel like going to my noontime meeting tomorrow. I absolutely will, but I don't feel like it. Ahhhhh depression, how I love thee.
By the way, my ass looks pretty good in those new jeans. Thank you again, depression!
I thought this was worth mentioning because it was a highlight of being in the hospital (believe it or not, there were highlights while being hooked to a telemetry monitor and being ordered to call a nurse if I needed to take a leak!). I don't know who I was waiting for or if I was listening to Christmas carols, feeling isolated and wondering how the @#%^ I was going to get my life together, and I heard this tapping near my door. It was like a click, click, click, click... very slight. Here I am, thinking the Valium is making me trip out ("What the hell is that?! Wait... where am I? WHO AM I?! OH MY GOOOOOOD!"), and I see a little snout poke around my doorway. I was visited by one of the most well-behaved furry dogs I've ever seen in my life. What a treat! His name was Dana and his trainer led him in and he came right up to me - let me pet him, kiss him, hug him. For at least thirty minutes that day, I felt like I had a friend. It's amazing what animals can do for the spirit. And not only that, his trainer sat down and talked to me... just talked. She knew why I was there and simply wanted me to feel a little less, I don't know, confined? Undignified? Guilty? All of the above? Dana. I will never forget you or your master. Again, for thirty minutes, I forgot that I was 'different'.
And in case I didn't mention this before (I've been writing so much, I'm starting to forget... I feel like I'm repeating myself occasionally), I've never been treated better than I was at this last hospital. A lot of places take in alcoholics and addicts and "treat 'em and street 'em". We don't get the help that we need most of the time. I've been seen by social workers who seem BORED listening to my history. There are a few exceptions and those people have my total respect and my heart. Again, I must say that this last hospital admission was incredible. I spoke to social workers, doctors, Dana (I love Dana!!), but especially to my nurses. *Every* nurse that I had sat with me, listened to my hurt, and even shared their own experiences and how they were able to find the strength to carry on (it seems like everyone has a story about addiction!). I felt understood. And to the nurse who sat with me for nearly thirty minutes, told me about her family, listened about mine and inspired me to start this blog - I will never forget you. It seems that, by sitting with me, you've been helping others in a major way... the e-mails that I'm getting are powerful and inspirational. Again, I WILL get back to you - if I can put down my new addiction called blogging.
Anyway, this was another dual-named (dual-diagnosis??) post. I was thinking about Dana today at work and how much the little clicking of his paws meant to me. I was streaming some music at the time and the song "Simple Man" came on. You know, I have NEVER actually listened to the lyrics to that song. It's like "Free Bird" or "Sweet Home Alabama"... you just roll with it. I was having a good work day, but I almost started crying at my desk (which would have been weird... "Dude, you should hear this song by Leonard someone or other. It's SO touching!"). Between Dana and hearing, "be a simple kind of man / Oh, be something you love and understand," I was on the verge of losing it. "All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied."
Because that's the damned point, isn't it?? What else IS there in life? When you walk into the hospital (WALK, I said... remember that) with a BAL of .44, you should drop to your knees and thank God (or Hope) that you're not in a freakin' coma! That's not satisfying! Work is great, but that's not satisfying. Relationships can be fulfilling, but they're not completely satisfying either.
You know what was satisfying? Look at my Facebook photo today (as of 12/16/11). That was a hike up Mount Monadnock with a friend, stopping to take pictures now and then, but also stopping to simply look out... breathe, take in the scenery, say Hi to fellow hikers, get some exercise, forget about alcoholism and finances and job hunts and family stress. It's what life is all about.
And it made me think about my son, too... what kind of lesson am I teaching my son if I think remoting into work is more important than making Play-Doh pizzas? Do I want to be the dad that works weekends or the dad that suits up during a snow storm to make forts?
For years and years, I've missed Curly's lesson (remember Curly from City Slickers??). Life is about one thing and it's up to you to find it. Well, I think it's about simplicity. As an alcoholic, I complicate the hell out of life. I set the bar so high I can never reach it. I start jobs that will never get finished because they were too complicated to begin with. I become friends with people that are so incompatible with me that we become enemies, simply because I wanted them to like me to begin with.
I feel a little better getting that out tonight. Keep it simple. You'll never enjoy life if you don't. You might have a hard time taking it from me, the guy who thought "simple" was forgetting his friends to live in motel rooms while drinking to pass out. But I do have first hand experience that, when sober, true simplicity comes from looking at the sky with a clear head, taking a deep breath and thinking, "Today is going to be all right with me."
Try it tomorrow. If you don't have a smile on your face after doing it, let me know.
I was looking forward to the meeting tonight and it certainly was excellent - I've heard the incoming group several times and there's one person in particular who's always inspirational. I absolutely love hearing her because she makes me laugh and I relate at the same time. But I didn't leave the meeting feeling "good". I'm not there yet. There were some people that I absolutely enjoyed talking to and others that drove me nuts with the unrequested advice. TIME - "Things I Must Earn". It's okay coming from two people... one person who has been writing to me frequently to help me get through this rough patch (love ya!) and also my sponsor. I must've heard it from five other people tonight and I was about ready to throw a punch. The only reason I would never hit my sponsor is because I'm scrawny and he's huge and I would end up with two black eyes and ovaries instead of testicles. I like my testicles very much. I also left feeling lonely, even though I was surrounded by friends. That's the worst part about being an alcoholic. The inner loneliness that you can feel, surrounded by hundreds of people, is monstrous. It's why many people drink in the first place. The distance I'm feeling from very specific people is still killing me. It's a grief thing. Even though I was the irresponsible party, I'm grieving (that's why I was so unstable yesterday). I'm not going through each stage of grief one at a time. Instead, I'm vacillating between guilt, then denial, then guilt again with the loneliness, then anger, then bargaining, then guilt AGAIN. I've got to be honest... it blows. I wish I had something wittier to say about it. It simply blows. Am I drinking over it? HELLLLL NO. Yet, I also don't feel like going to my noontime meeting tomorrow. I absolutely will, but I don't feel like it. Ahhhhh depression, how I love thee.
By the way, my ass looks pretty good in those new jeans. Thank you again, depression!
I thought this was worth mentioning because it was a highlight of being in the hospital (believe it or not, there were highlights while being hooked to a telemetry monitor and being ordered to call a nurse if I needed to take a leak!). I don't know who I was waiting for or if I was listening to Christmas carols, feeling isolated and wondering how the @#%^ I was going to get my life together, and I heard this tapping near my door. It was like a click, click, click, click... very slight. Here I am, thinking the Valium is making me trip out ("What the hell is that?! Wait... where am I? WHO AM I?! OH MY GOOOOOOD!"), and I see a little snout poke around my doorway. I was visited by one of the most well-behaved furry dogs I've ever seen in my life. What a treat! His name was Dana and his trainer led him in and he came right up to me - let me pet him, kiss him, hug him. For at least thirty minutes that day, I felt like I had a friend. It's amazing what animals can do for the spirit. And not only that, his trainer sat down and talked to me... just talked. She knew why I was there and simply wanted me to feel a little less, I don't know, confined? Undignified? Guilty? All of the above? Dana. I will never forget you or your master. Again, for thirty minutes, I forgot that I was 'different'.
And in case I didn't mention this before (I've been writing so much, I'm starting to forget... I feel like I'm repeating myself occasionally), I've never been treated better than I was at this last hospital. A lot of places take in alcoholics and addicts and "treat 'em and street 'em". We don't get the help that we need most of the time. I've been seen by social workers who seem BORED listening to my history. There are a few exceptions and those people have my total respect and my heart. Again, I must say that this last hospital admission was incredible. I spoke to social workers, doctors, Dana (I love Dana!!), but especially to my nurses. *Every* nurse that I had sat with me, listened to my hurt, and even shared their own experiences and how they were able to find the strength to carry on (it seems like everyone has a story about addiction!). I felt understood. And to the nurse who sat with me for nearly thirty minutes, told me about her family, listened about mine and inspired me to start this blog - I will never forget you. It seems that, by sitting with me, you've been helping others in a major way... the e-mails that I'm getting are powerful and inspirational. Again, I WILL get back to you - if I can put down my new addiction called blogging.
Anyway, this was another dual-named (dual-diagnosis??) post. I was thinking about Dana today at work and how much the little clicking of his paws meant to me. I was streaming some music at the time and the song "Simple Man" came on. You know, I have NEVER actually listened to the lyrics to that song. It's like "Free Bird" or "Sweet Home Alabama"... you just roll with it. I was having a good work day, but I almost started crying at my desk (which would have been weird... "Dude, you should hear this song by Leonard someone or other. It's SO touching!"). Between Dana and hearing, "be a simple kind of man / Oh, be something you love and understand," I was on the verge of losing it. "All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied."
Because that's the damned point, isn't it?? What else IS there in life? When you walk into the hospital (WALK, I said... remember that) with a BAL of .44, you should drop to your knees and thank God (or Hope) that you're not in a freakin' coma! That's not satisfying! Work is great, but that's not satisfying. Relationships can be fulfilling, but they're not completely satisfying either.
You know what was satisfying? Look at my Facebook photo today (as of 12/16/11). That was a hike up Mount Monadnock with a friend, stopping to take pictures now and then, but also stopping to simply look out... breathe, take in the scenery, say Hi to fellow hikers, get some exercise, forget about alcoholism and finances and job hunts and family stress. It's what life is all about.
And it made me think about my son, too... what kind of lesson am I teaching my son if I think remoting into work is more important than making Play-Doh pizzas? Do I want to be the dad that works weekends or the dad that suits up during a snow storm to make forts?
For years and years, I've missed Curly's lesson (remember Curly from City Slickers??). Life is about one thing and it's up to you to find it. Well, I think it's about simplicity. As an alcoholic, I complicate the hell out of life. I set the bar so high I can never reach it. I start jobs that will never get finished because they were too complicated to begin with. I become friends with people that are so incompatible with me that we become enemies, simply because I wanted them to like me to begin with.
I feel a little better getting that out tonight. Keep it simple. You'll never enjoy life if you don't. You might have a hard time taking it from me, the guy who thought "simple" was forgetting his friends to live in motel rooms while drinking to pass out. But I do have first hand experience that, when sober, true simplicity comes from looking at the sky with a clear head, taking a deep breath and thinking, "Today is going to be all right with me."
Try it tomorrow. If you don't have a smile on your face after doing it, let me know.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Depression is your Friend / Changing Seasons
I bought some new clothes tonight. I had to. I don't know where half of my belongings are... some were delivered, some were left in hotels, some were thrown out. As an alcoholic, I have a difficult time keeping 'nice' things. For ten years, I had a pair of $300 Revo sunglasses that were absolutely perfect for me. They fit like a glove... except, um, they were sunglasses. I went "off the grid" (as my ex likes to call it... I think that's an accurate description, too), had a bender in a motel room and lost them. Now I have a pair of $5 sunglasses that fit just as well. I was going to buy another pair of Revos, but was scared to death that I'd lose those, as well. So... $5 dollars. And they look just as good...
Anyway, depression can be your friend - if you're looking to lose weight! If you take a look at some of my Facebook photos, then you'll see I had a bit of a stomach, a round face... basically, I looked bloated. That was the alcoholism. Just like Hope - I could see it in her eyes and her face that she was healthy - you can tell in my photos that, for years, I was drinking. I didn't necessarily look unhealthy, but I was bloated and poisoned.
For the past year or two, I've been in and out of AA, trying my best (kind of), and getting a handle on the underlying issues that started this roller-coaster ride. Aside from my therapist, I've seen several psychiatrists that decided, "You have depression, anxiety and (I love this one) a mood disorder otherwise unspecified - MDOU." What the hell does THAT mean?! If a doctor ever tells you that, then your response should be, "Fuck off. I'm fine." I've been on many different anti-depressants and I seem to be the guy in the AD commercials that gets all of the side-effects and none of the benefits. Every time I go on an anti-depressant, I relapse. I get moody, irritable, angry... I may as well be drinking. And so I do!
Well, I've definitely been depressed (which came first, the chicken or the egg? the depression or the alcoholism?) and it's affected my eating. I *might* eat twice a day, but it's unusual. I will say that I took up running for a bit and that helped my weight loss, but......... I bought jeans tonight that are the same size as the jeans I had in college. I've lost around 40-45 pounds in less than a year. I even bought new shirts because my others were too baggy. Sexy, eh? I'm pretty sure this kind of weight loss was considered a "No-No" in my nutrition and physiology classes at UMass.
So for those of you who think depression can't be a good thing, think again! You too could fit into jeans that you wore when you were twenty years old!!
On a more serious note, today suuuuucked. I did NOT make a meeting tonight. I woke up late this morning and was entirely emotional today. Unfortunately, I've learned that's the process when you're sobering up again. You have days where Hope is all around you and days where life seems to suck. Work was entirely hectic, yet it wasn't enough to distract me today. One minute I'm feeling great and the next thirty I feel like tearing someone's head off, screaming, crying. I get resentful and angry ("Why weren't you there for me?? Wait, you were there for me. Okay, then why didn't you do more?! Oh, you tried. Okay, um, you know what? You just suck... let's leave it at that."). I was back and forth all day long. Thankfully, several people posted on my wall to take the day ten minutes at a time. It was more like two minutes at a time. But - I did nothing foolish other than beat myself up and that kind of beating will pass in "time". I'd put the bat down, then pick the bat up... put the bat down, then pick the bat up. But Hope won, in the end.
It's probably half the reason I bought some new clothes tonight. I tend to substitute my addictions. When I'm "itchy", I transfer my urge to drink. In this case, I shopped. Mind you, I called my sponsor and he ordered me to find another meeting. My therapist also 'ordered' (she never really orders anything) me to find meetings closer to work... to be around people I might relate to a little closer. Well, like a good sponsee and patient, I did neither. I came home to shower, eat and write, instead.
And tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow night is a wonderful meeting that I *enjoy* attending, along with four this weekend. Work may be entirely different and, as long as I sleep well, my mood will probably be entirely different. Or it might not. If it isn't, then I'll listen to Hope, pop on some Christmas carols, joke with my coworkers and thank Heaven above that it's Friday. I'm still emotional now and yet all I'm doing is writing and relaxing. I saw someone tonight who means the world to me and I'm hoping for quality time this weekend with a few people. This quality time worries me, to be honest. Chances are, the conversations will be very candid... or not. See, I'm projecting like any good alcoholic should!
So, it wasn't the best day on record, but I made it. And, by the way, I apologize to those who have been writing to me privately and haven't received a reply. I had NO idea what kind of reaction these blog entries were going to have on people and I've had many responses. I've also lost a couple of FB friends since I've been writing, noticed that some of my replies to others have been deleted (THAT pisses me off)... guess I'm hitting a little too close to home for some to deal with. Generally, your replies and support have been truly amazing and I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
I'll end with some music again. People close to me have heard this a million times. My favorite GNR song, for twenty years, has been "Estranged"... appropriately how I feel lately. I spoke at a commitment a long time ago and mentioned the following lyrics -
When I find out all the reasons
Maybe I'll find another way, find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I'll get it right next time
I've never seen so many people cry during a commitment as I did that night. I got another shot at life and this is just a changing season. A new one is around the corner and "maybe I'll get it right next time."
Here's Hoping.
Anyway, depression can be your friend - if you're looking to lose weight! If you take a look at some of my Facebook photos, then you'll see I had a bit of a stomach, a round face... basically, I looked bloated. That was the alcoholism. Just like Hope - I could see it in her eyes and her face that she was healthy - you can tell in my photos that, for years, I was drinking. I didn't necessarily look unhealthy, but I was bloated and poisoned.
For the past year or two, I've been in and out of AA, trying my best (kind of), and getting a handle on the underlying issues that started this roller-coaster ride. Aside from my therapist, I've seen several psychiatrists that decided, "You have depression, anxiety and (I love this one) a mood disorder otherwise unspecified - MDOU." What the hell does THAT mean?! If a doctor ever tells you that, then your response should be, "Fuck off. I'm fine." I've been on many different anti-depressants and I seem to be the guy in the AD commercials that gets all of the side-effects and none of the benefits. Every time I go on an anti-depressant, I relapse. I get moody, irritable, angry... I may as well be drinking. And so I do!
Well, I've definitely been depressed (which came first, the chicken or the egg? the depression or the alcoholism?) and it's affected my eating. I *might* eat twice a day, but it's unusual. I will say that I took up running for a bit and that helped my weight loss, but......... I bought jeans tonight that are the same size as the jeans I had in college. I've lost around 40-45 pounds in less than a year. I even bought new shirts because my others were too baggy. Sexy, eh? I'm pretty sure this kind of weight loss was considered a "No-No" in my nutrition and physiology classes at UMass.
So for those of you who think depression can't be a good thing, think again! You too could fit into jeans that you wore when you were twenty years old!!
On a more serious note, today suuuuucked. I did NOT make a meeting tonight. I woke up late this morning and was entirely emotional today. Unfortunately, I've learned that's the process when you're sobering up again. You have days where Hope is all around you and days where life seems to suck. Work was entirely hectic, yet it wasn't enough to distract me today. One minute I'm feeling great and the next thirty I feel like tearing someone's head off, screaming, crying. I get resentful and angry ("Why weren't you there for me?? Wait, you were there for me. Okay, then why didn't you do more?! Oh, you tried. Okay, um, you know what? You just suck... let's leave it at that."). I was back and forth all day long. Thankfully, several people posted on my wall to take the day ten minutes at a time. It was more like two minutes at a time. But - I did nothing foolish other than beat myself up and that kind of beating will pass in "time". I'd put the bat down, then pick the bat up... put the bat down, then pick the bat up. But Hope won, in the end.
It's probably half the reason I bought some new clothes tonight. I tend to substitute my addictions. When I'm "itchy", I transfer my urge to drink. In this case, I shopped. Mind you, I called my sponsor and he ordered me to find another meeting. My therapist also 'ordered' (she never really orders anything) me to find meetings closer to work... to be around people I might relate to a little closer. Well, like a good sponsee and patient, I did neither. I came home to shower, eat and write, instead.
And tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow night is a wonderful meeting that I *enjoy* attending, along with four this weekend. Work may be entirely different and, as long as I sleep well, my mood will probably be entirely different. Or it might not. If it isn't, then I'll listen to Hope, pop on some Christmas carols, joke with my coworkers and thank Heaven above that it's Friday. I'm still emotional now and yet all I'm doing is writing and relaxing. I saw someone tonight who means the world to me and I'm hoping for quality time this weekend with a few people. This quality time worries me, to be honest. Chances are, the conversations will be very candid... or not. See, I'm projecting like any good alcoholic should!
So, it wasn't the best day on record, but I made it. And, by the way, I apologize to those who have been writing to me privately and haven't received a reply. I had NO idea what kind of reaction these blog entries were going to have on people and I've had many responses. I've also lost a couple of FB friends since I've been writing, noticed that some of my replies to others have been deleted (THAT pisses me off)... guess I'm hitting a little too close to home for some to deal with. Generally, your replies and support have been truly amazing and I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
I'll end with some music again. People close to me have heard this a million times. My favorite GNR song, for twenty years, has been "Estranged"... appropriately how I feel lately. I spoke at a commitment a long time ago and mentioned the following lyrics -
When I find out all the reasons
Maybe I'll find another way, find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I'll get it right next time
I've never seen so many people cry during a commitment as I did that night. I got another shot at life and this is just a changing season. A new one is around the corner and "maybe I'll get it right next time."
Here's Hoping.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
A Million Dollars Worth of Validation
Eventually, these blog entries will have to slow down. By the time I get back from a meeting, showered, ready for the next day... it doesn't leave a lot of play time. I should be in bed again, but eh. This is more fun.
A million dollars worth of validation. What does that mean exactly? I had a therapy session tonight and it was a line that really stood out for me. Most people who know me would probably describe me as: fun, funny, witty, intelligent, caring (I think?). For the most part, I always have a smile on my face. And I bend over backwards for people when they need it. Unfortunately, these things are for all of the wrong reasons - with exceptions. There are special people in my life that make me WANT to be this way, true and genuine. But I find that I often play these roles because I simply want you to like me.
School terrified me. I did so well, but I was always paranoid about friendships. College was a little easier. Then came work. I strove to be 'in charge' because it meant I could call you aside, talk to you, mentor you, etc. Rather than be a boss, I tried to be your friend. Some of my coworkers might disagree with this, but that's simply how I felt. I was 'noticed'.
Enter sobriety. For three years, I've been trying to stay clean. I've gotten my AA 'coins', but there's only been one person who's kept track of my sobriety date - ever. Maybe I'm wrong here. Though if I am, then it was rarely expressed. To me, this has been extremely disappointing. It's like I'm looking for family and friends to post a special calendar, just for me, and to keep circling the dates. "Hey, tonight you get your six month chip! Can't wait to be there to support you!" That's never happened... again, with one exception.
Instead, I feel like I've been kicked around. Believe me, I'm not trying to come off as negative. Most of these entries are critical, but it's due to the fact that I'm newly sober again. So they'll seem a little nasty at times. Anyway, I've spent most of my life trying to please others and to get others to like me, so it's very disappointing not to have the backup that I've been looking for while trying to get sober (and for family reading this, don't think that I'm asking for it... you don't get it and I don't necessarily *want* you to get it). Thing is, most people who aren't alcoholics or addicts don't know how to give the kind of support that the alcoholic needs. In fact, they've been so disappointed and hurt that they're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rather than circle that sobriety anniversary, they're counting the days until the next relapse. And while the alcoholic is down on the ground hurting, family and friends are kicking them (figuratively, most of the time) saying, "You did it again, you son of a bitch!" It's hard to explain that an alcoholic rarely looks at consequences when relapsing. This may seem strange to many of you. The alcoholic is looking for an excuse to drink (because, well, we're alcoholics!), gets one, and then forgets about the fact that he or she may: lose friends, family, jobs, money, homes, lives. It's like a black hole in the brain. That's how the disease works. This is why meetings are so important. They're reminders to us that we will lose EVERYTHING if we pick up. And when you stop going to meetings, you lose track of those consequences. I sure as hell did.
But why is it so important that I receive this kind of support from my family? Why do I need them to circle that date? Why do I need them pat me on the back at the end of the day just because I haven't picked up a drink? They're being cautious. They don't want to be hurt. They're distancing themselves because most alcoholics relapse so many times, family and friends are just waiting for it again. They EXPECT a relapse. So I, as an alcoholic, am looking for support from people who don't know HOW to give the support that I need! And if I did receive a pat on the back from my family - I'd probably think they were patronizing me! How confusing is that?!
And that's the topic of this post tonight... my therapist hit me with a great line. "You're looking for a million dollars from someone with a buck in his pocket." Sometimes, these quotes of hers really stick with me and, thankfully, this was one of them. I'm looking for support in all the wrong places.
I've been sober now for 15 days, yet last Friday was the night I got my 24 hour chip. There were an awful lot of people who shook my hand and told me congratulations. And I got that special hug... one that, honestly, was very unexpected. My heart nearly exploded with pride... because of the hug. Rather than dig inside myself and say, "I did it! I made it another day!", I let others' congratulations fill that hole and boost my pride.
While it's important to have support, I'm beginning to realize that I need to find it within myself. It's not easy. When you feel like you've been knocked around for years, it's hard not to be critical of yourself. It's VERY easy to find a spin... "Great, I made three months... last time this happened, I relapsed. And three months before that, I relapsed. It's only a matter of time." And so the sabotage begins. The devil on the shoulder whispers in your ear, "Hey, your family and friends are expecting it. Have a drink, go on a binge, then start over. It's what they figure you're going to do anyway."
I have no more use for this kind of spin. If the devil wants to yell in my ear rather than whisper, then he may do so. But life is so much better when you listen to the person on the other shoulder. For a long time, I didn't think she even existed. She was so quiet... a shadow or a ghost. Now I realize that she (I like to think of that person as a she, honestly... she's compassionate, giving, tranquil, serene) has been the one placing positive thoughts in my head for every damn negative thought the devil's been tossing at me. I just wasn't listening.
She gives me the all of the validation I need. She gives me the "Good jobs" and "Congrats" and "Look at what you accomplished!" She gives me that million dollars.
In fact, a line from Dishwalla, Counting Blue Cars:
A million dollars worth of validation. What does that mean exactly? I had a therapy session tonight and it was a line that really stood out for me. Most people who know me would probably describe me as: fun, funny, witty, intelligent, caring (I think?). For the most part, I always have a smile on my face. And I bend over backwards for people when they need it. Unfortunately, these things are for all of the wrong reasons - with exceptions. There are special people in my life that make me WANT to be this way, true and genuine. But I find that I often play these roles because I simply want you to like me.
School terrified me. I did so well, but I was always paranoid about friendships. College was a little easier. Then came work. I strove to be 'in charge' because it meant I could call you aside, talk to you, mentor you, etc. Rather than be a boss, I tried to be your friend. Some of my coworkers might disagree with this, but that's simply how I felt. I was 'noticed'.
Enter sobriety. For three years, I've been trying to stay clean. I've gotten my AA 'coins', but there's only been one person who's kept track of my sobriety date - ever. Maybe I'm wrong here. Though if I am, then it was rarely expressed. To me, this has been extremely disappointing. It's like I'm looking for family and friends to post a special calendar, just for me, and to keep circling the dates. "Hey, tonight you get your six month chip! Can't wait to be there to support you!" That's never happened... again, with one exception.
Instead, I feel like I've been kicked around. Believe me, I'm not trying to come off as negative. Most of these entries are critical, but it's due to the fact that I'm newly sober again. So they'll seem a little nasty at times. Anyway, I've spent most of my life trying to please others and to get others to like me, so it's very disappointing not to have the backup that I've been looking for while trying to get sober (and for family reading this, don't think that I'm asking for it... you don't get it and I don't necessarily *want* you to get it). Thing is, most people who aren't alcoholics or addicts don't know how to give the kind of support that the alcoholic needs. In fact, they've been so disappointed and hurt that they're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rather than circle that sobriety anniversary, they're counting the days until the next relapse. And while the alcoholic is down on the ground hurting, family and friends are kicking them (figuratively, most of the time) saying, "You did it again, you son of a bitch!" It's hard to explain that an alcoholic rarely looks at consequences when relapsing. This may seem strange to many of you. The alcoholic is looking for an excuse to drink (because, well, we're alcoholics!), gets one, and then forgets about the fact that he or she may: lose friends, family, jobs, money, homes, lives. It's like a black hole in the brain. That's how the disease works. This is why meetings are so important. They're reminders to us that we will lose EVERYTHING if we pick up. And when you stop going to meetings, you lose track of those consequences. I sure as hell did.
But why is it so important that I receive this kind of support from my family? Why do I need them to circle that date? Why do I need them pat me on the back at the end of the day just because I haven't picked up a drink? They're being cautious. They don't want to be hurt. They're distancing themselves because most alcoholics relapse so many times, family and friends are just waiting for it again. They EXPECT a relapse. So I, as an alcoholic, am looking for support from people who don't know HOW to give the support that I need! And if I did receive a pat on the back from my family - I'd probably think they were patronizing me! How confusing is that?!
And that's the topic of this post tonight... my therapist hit me with a great line. "You're looking for a million dollars from someone with a buck in his pocket." Sometimes, these quotes of hers really stick with me and, thankfully, this was one of them. I'm looking for support in all the wrong places.
I've been sober now for 15 days, yet last Friday was the night I got my 24 hour chip. There were an awful lot of people who shook my hand and told me congratulations. And I got that special hug... one that, honestly, was very unexpected. My heart nearly exploded with pride... because of the hug. Rather than dig inside myself and say, "I did it! I made it another day!", I let others' congratulations fill that hole and boost my pride.
While it's important to have support, I'm beginning to realize that I need to find it within myself. It's not easy. When you feel like you've been knocked around for years, it's hard not to be critical of yourself. It's VERY easy to find a spin... "Great, I made three months... last time this happened, I relapsed. And three months before that, I relapsed. It's only a matter of time." And so the sabotage begins. The devil on the shoulder whispers in your ear, "Hey, your family and friends are expecting it. Have a drink, go on a binge, then start over. It's what they figure you're going to do anyway."
I have no more use for this kind of spin. If the devil wants to yell in my ear rather than whisper, then he may do so. But life is so much better when you listen to the person on the other shoulder. For a long time, I didn't think she even existed. She was so quiet... a shadow or a ghost. Now I realize that she (I like to think of that person as a she, honestly... she's compassionate, giving, tranquil, serene) has been the one placing positive thoughts in my head for every damn negative thought the devil's been tossing at me. I just wasn't listening.
She gives me the all of the validation I need. She gives me the "Good jobs" and "Congrats" and "Look at what you accomplished!" She gives me that million dollars.
In fact, a line from Dishwalla, Counting Blue Cars:
Tell me all your thoughts on God?
'Cause I would really like to meet her.
And ask her why we're who we are.
'Cause I would really like to meet her.
And ask her why we're who we are.
I haven't found my purpose yet and I've been lost so long that I'm not even sure who I am anymore. However, I'm learning to trust, little by little. I'm still here, after using more than my nine lives, so I doubt I've fulfilled my purpose. I need to keep the negative ear blocked and the positive ear opened, listening for the opportunity to serve.
Several months ago, my best friend gave me a prayer card. She knew I had my issues with religion, but I try to be as spiritual as I can. I carry that card with me every day. It reads:
O Lady of Mental Peace,
Mother of Tranquility
and Mother of Hope,
look upon me in this time of my weakness and unrest.
Teach my searching heart
to know that God's Love
for me is unchanging and unchangeable;
and that human love can only
begin and grow by touching
His Love.
Let your gentle Peace -
which the world cannot give
- be always with me.
And, help me to bring this
same Peace into the lives
of others.
Our Lady of Mental Peace,
- Pray for me.
"Let your gentle Peace be always with me." That's worth a million bucks right there.
Two Weeks Ago...
Looks like I have a new addiction... and it's called blogging. I should really be in bed, but it's been nice to get it "out there".
Tonight's meeting was regarding our "pipeline" to God. A lot of people tend to be turned off by the subject of God or a Higher Power in AA, but it was nice to hear the varying opinions on it (remember Hope?). It was a good meeting, though I got a little sidetracked again... asking for advice on how to deal with my latest wreckage. I still pick up my phone several times a day, simply out of habit, expecting a text message. What I end up with is the current time. Have I recently mentioned that I don't know how to deal with this? Oh, wait, yes I have... about three hundred times. But I'm reminded three hundred times, as well. Every meeting that I've been to, I've heard, "You know, so-and-so was extremely worried about you.... why didn't you call?" Hell, I should've called a hundred people. I should've gotten my ass to a meeting, even drunk! Instead, I'd stumble to the front desk of the motel, pay for another night, then pray to God (you bet I was praying at 8:55am) that the liquor store was opening.
In fact, let's get it out in the open. This is what happened... truly. I'm not proud of any of this, but it's note-for-note what happened.
When I'm sober, I do pretty well (hey, I think). I'm supportive, I'm a friend, I visit family, I spend time with my son... I'm a good guy! It's something I should try to remember.
Unfortunately, since I've tried to quit drinking, things have gotten much, much worse. I NEVER drank as badly as I do now when I relapse. An older friend of mine is known to say, "AA broke my drinking!" He's right. AA broke my drinking. I don't get drunk anymore. I drink to the point where I pass out... wake up, drink, pass out... etc. I don't get hangovers because I'm always still drunk. And that's exactly why I never called my friend. I was never sober enough to do it. I'm very sorry about that, but it's the truth. It's not an excuse... it's just the truth. (There's someone reading this saying, "Dammit, put the bat down!!" I will, eventually. But it... hurts. Can I just keep the bat a *little* longer, please?)
I was a daily drinker for a long time, but rarely did I wake up and rush to the package store. I always had enough to keep myself going. Not this time. I would pay for a room at approximately 8:45am (I timed it out), get in my car and drive straight to the liquor store. I'd arrive at 8:55am or so, lock my car and look in the window. I'd beg to God (who, frankly, didn't want to hear *that* kind of prayer from me) that someone was already there and the door was open. And every morning, at 8:55am, someone WAS there and they would let me in. Every day, I left with 3 liters of vodka and a two liter bottle of Sprite. By the day's end, the vodka was gone, but I'd have half a bottle of Sprite left. And, thankfully, I would pass out until the morning.
But two weeks ago, something happened. My drink completely broke. Maybe I drank too fast? Maybe I didn't care if I lived or died? I have no idea. From 11pm until 4am, I watched the clock... I was out of liquor. This time, I wasn't sure I was going to make it. 4am until 9am is a long time for someone shaking and sweating. The worst part was this - I started to clear up a little. I realized what I had done to my friend, friends, family, son, coworkers... and to myself.
I won't say that I got down on my knees and prayed. That would be a lie. But the realization of what I had been doing hit me so hard, I began to cry. I thought, "What have I done??" Without drinking, I realized how much I missed people... and whether or not they thought I was dead or alive. And, again, I thought about that pact and how badly I had violated it. If only, I thought. If only. I thought about AA and the people that I enjoyed meeting every day. I thought about my son growing up without his dad.
So I didn't get on my knees and beg God to save me. But I did look up and I said, "What do I do? I've killed every relationship that I love." I curled up for a minute and thought about someone next to me... long ago. Someone who left me. I remembered every smell and every touch and I knew I had to finally put it away. It was a lonely feeling - nostalgic and lonely. It wasn't the person so much as the abandonment that I went through and how little support I felt I received when she left me... and how I was now transferring it to my other relationships. THAT is when it hit me - there have been so many others to replace the hole that she left, but I had been blind to them. I was so hung in the past, I couldn't see what was in the present. And what was in the present was ALL good. That's the kicker - my life is good. I was killing it quickly.
Now, I have my trust issues with God. I've heard that your relationship with God often depends on your upbringing. Your parents are the ones who form your trust and therefore how spiritual you'll be in life. It can be learned, of course, but it takes time. A basic trust in God comes from your parents. By this time, I did NOT trust in God. Too much had happened and I was mad... angry. I'll never forget my step-dad, an alcoholic himself (who was able to just "put it down"... probably why we don't see eye-to-eye very often, because *I* cannot just "put it down") telling me that I was the angriest person he'd ever met. Thanks, "dad". But he was right. I couldn't drop my anger...
Based on that, you can debate God's hand in what happened next. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was self-will (though, self-will hadn't gotten me too far!). I got up. Rather than stay curled up, remembering what was, I took a look at "what is". I swung my feet over the bed, picked up the motel phone and listened for a dial tone. I hung up. Then I picked it up again... this time I dialed '9'. I hung up. I kept looking up, asking "What do I do??" I picked it up a third time and dialed "91". I hung up. I'm serious... I hung up again. And then it clicked in my head. I had this feeling inside that if I waited until 9am and repeated the same routine, my life was over. So I picked the phone up a fourth time and dialed '911'... and hung up. God, Buddha, Aidan - somebody got a bead on me this time and the phone rang back. It was the 911 operator asking for my emergency and exact location. There was no escaping this time. That was at 4:55am two weeks ago today.
While I might be struggling with my emotions and the pain I caused others, I know that someone's got my back. I even thought maybe it was my grandmother, looking down and telling me that she didn't want me yet. Maybe it was the fact that I had a friend drive by that motel every day, looking for my car, transferring some faith that I'd make it out alive. I have no idea. But by 5:15am, I was in the emergency room and I specifically remember telling the doctor, "I don't want to hurt anyone else ever again." To which she replied, "So you feel like hurting someone or yourself?" I said, "No. I don't want to cause anyone more pain."
I can't promise anyone that it won't happen again, because that's not how alcoholism works. But I can tell you this - I knocked on God's door as loudly as I could early that morning. I was crawling into the fire, yet found the strength to reach up and pound on that fucking gate. I realized that I had been knocking, softly, because I was too embarrassed to accept the help I needed. This time, I had to break down that door...
Two weeks sober. This time, I'll try to keep knocking.
"Gotta Knock a Little Harder"
Happiness is just a word to me
And it might have meant a thing or two
If I'd known the difference
Emptiness, a lonely parody
And my life, another smokin' gun
A sign of my indifference
Always keepin' safe inside
Where no one ever had a chance
To penetrate a break in
Let me tell you some have tried
But I would slam the door so tight
That they could never get in
Kept my cool under lock and key
And I never shed a tear
Another sign of my condition
Fear of love or bitter vanity
That kept me on the run
The main events at my confession
I kept a chain upon my door
That would shake the shame of Cain
Into a blind submission
The burning ghost without a name
Was still calling all the same
But I wouldn't listen
The longer I'd stall
The further I'd crawl
The further I'd crawl
The harder I'd fall
I was crawlin' into the fire
The more that I saw
The further I'd fall
The further I'd fall
The lower I'd crawl
I kept fallin' into the fire
Suddenly it occurred to me
The reason for the run and hide
Had totaled my existence
Everything left on the other side
Could never be much worse than this
But could I go the distance?
I faced the door and all my shame
Tearin' off each piece of chain
Until they all were broken
But no matter how I tried
The other side was locked so tight
That door, it wouldn't open
Gave it all that I got
And started to knock
Shouted for someone
To open the lock
I just gotta get through the door
And the more that I knocked
The hotter I got
The hotter I got
The harder I'd knock
I just gotta break through the door
Gotta knock a little harder
Break through the door
Tonight's meeting was regarding our "pipeline" to God. A lot of people tend to be turned off by the subject of God or a Higher Power in AA, but it was nice to hear the varying opinions on it (remember Hope?). It was a good meeting, though I got a little sidetracked again... asking for advice on how to deal with my latest wreckage. I still pick up my phone several times a day, simply out of habit, expecting a text message. What I end up with is the current time. Have I recently mentioned that I don't know how to deal with this? Oh, wait, yes I have... about three hundred times. But I'm reminded three hundred times, as well. Every meeting that I've been to, I've heard, "You know, so-and-so was extremely worried about you.... why didn't you call?" Hell, I should've called a hundred people. I should've gotten my ass to a meeting, even drunk! Instead, I'd stumble to the front desk of the motel, pay for another night, then pray to God (you bet I was praying at 8:55am) that the liquor store was opening.
In fact, let's get it out in the open. This is what happened... truly. I'm not proud of any of this, but it's note-for-note what happened.
When I'm sober, I do pretty well (hey, I think). I'm supportive, I'm a friend, I visit family, I spend time with my son... I'm a good guy! It's something I should try to remember.
Unfortunately, since I've tried to quit drinking, things have gotten much, much worse. I NEVER drank as badly as I do now when I relapse. An older friend of mine is known to say, "AA broke my drinking!" He's right. AA broke my drinking. I don't get drunk anymore. I drink to the point where I pass out... wake up, drink, pass out... etc. I don't get hangovers because I'm always still drunk. And that's exactly why I never called my friend. I was never sober enough to do it. I'm very sorry about that, but it's the truth. It's not an excuse... it's just the truth. (There's someone reading this saying, "Dammit, put the bat down!!" I will, eventually. But it... hurts. Can I just keep the bat a *little* longer, please?)
I was a daily drinker for a long time, but rarely did I wake up and rush to the package store. I always had enough to keep myself going. Not this time. I would pay for a room at approximately 8:45am (I timed it out), get in my car and drive straight to the liquor store. I'd arrive at 8:55am or so, lock my car and look in the window. I'd beg to God (who, frankly, didn't want to hear *that* kind of prayer from me) that someone was already there and the door was open. And every morning, at 8:55am, someone WAS there and they would let me in. Every day, I left with 3 liters of vodka and a two liter bottle of Sprite. By the day's end, the vodka was gone, but I'd have half a bottle of Sprite left. And, thankfully, I would pass out until the morning.
But two weeks ago, something happened. My drink completely broke. Maybe I drank too fast? Maybe I didn't care if I lived or died? I have no idea. From 11pm until 4am, I watched the clock... I was out of liquor. This time, I wasn't sure I was going to make it. 4am until 9am is a long time for someone shaking and sweating. The worst part was this - I started to clear up a little. I realized what I had done to my friend, friends, family, son, coworkers... and to myself.
I won't say that I got down on my knees and prayed. That would be a lie. But the realization of what I had been doing hit me so hard, I began to cry. I thought, "What have I done??" Without drinking, I realized how much I missed people... and whether or not they thought I was dead or alive. And, again, I thought about that pact and how badly I had violated it. If only, I thought. If only. I thought about AA and the people that I enjoyed meeting every day. I thought about my son growing up without his dad.
So I didn't get on my knees and beg God to save me. But I did look up and I said, "What do I do? I've killed every relationship that I love." I curled up for a minute and thought about someone next to me... long ago. Someone who left me. I remembered every smell and every touch and I knew I had to finally put it away. It was a lonely feeling - nostalgic and lonely. It wasn't the person so much as the abandonment that I went through and how little support I felt I received when she left me... and how I was now transferring it to my other relationships. THAT is when it hit me - there have been so many others to replace the hole that she left, but I had been blind to them. I was so hung in the past, I couldn't see what was in the present. And what was in the present was ALL good. That's the kicker - my life is good. I was killing it quickly.
Now, I have my trust issues with God. I've heard that your relationship with God often depends on your upbringing. Your parents are the ones who form your trust and therefore how spiritual you'll be in life. It can be learned, of course, but it takes time. A basic trust in God comes from your parents. By this time, I did NOT trust in God. Too much had happened and I was mad... angry. I'll never forget my step-dad, an alcoholic himself (who was able to just "put it down"... probably why we don't see eye-to-eye very often, because *I* cannot just "put it down") telling me that I was the angriest person he'd ever met. Thanks, "dad". But he was right. I couldn't drop my anger...
Based on that, you can debate God's hand in what happened next. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was self-will (though, self-will hadn't gotten me too far!). I got up. Rather than stay curled up, remembering what was, I took a look at "what is". I swung my feet over the bed, picked up the motel phone and listened for a dial tone. I hung up. Then I picked it up again... this time I dialed '9'. I hung up. I kept looking up, asking "What do I do??" I picked it up a third time and dialed "91". I hung up. I'm serious... I hung up again. And then it clicked in my head. I had this feeling inside that if I waited until 9am and repeated the same routine, my life was over. So I picked the phone up a fourth time and dialed '911'... and hung up. God, Buddha, Aidan - somebody got a bead on me this time and the phone rang back. It was the 911 operator asking for my emergency and exact location. There was no escaping this time. That was at 4:55am two weeks ago today.
While I might be struggling with my emotions and the pain I caused others, I know that someone's got my back. I even thought maybe it was my grandmother, looking down and telling me that she didn't want me yet. Maybe it was the fact that I had a friend drive by that motel every day, looking for my car, transferring some faith that I'd make it out alive. I have no idea. But by 5:15am, I was in the emergency room and I specifically remember telling the doctor, "I don't want to hurt anyone else ever again." To which she replied, "So you feel like hurting someone or yourself?" I said, "No. I don't want to cause anyone more pain."
I can't promise anyone that it won't happen again, because that's not how alcoholism works. But I can tell you this - I knocked on God's door as loudly as I could early that morning. I was crawling into the fire, yet found the strength to reach up and pound on that fucking gate. I realized that I had been knocking, softly, because I was too embarrassed to accept the help I needed. This time, I had to break down that door...
Two weeks sober. This time, I'll try to keep knocking.
"Gotta Knock a Little Harder"
Happiness is just a word to me
And it might have meant a thing or two
If I'd known the difference
Emptiness, a lonely parody
And my life, another smokin' gun
A sign of my indifference
Always keepin' safe inside
Where no one ever had a chance
To penetrate a break in
Let me tell you some have tried
But I would slam the door so tight
That they could never get in
Kept my cool under lock and key
And I never shed a tear
Another sign of my condition
Fear of love or bitter vanity
That kept me on the run
The main events at my confession
I kept a chain upon my door
That would shake the shame of Cain
Into a blind submission
The burning ghost without a name
Was still calling all the same
But I wouldn't listen
The longer I'd stall
The further I'd crawl
The further I'd crawl
The harder I'd fall
I was crawlin' into the fire
The more that I saw
The further I'd fall
The further I'd fall
The lower I'd crawl
I kept fallin' into the fire
Suddenly it occurred to me
The reason for the run and hide
Had totaled my existence
Everything left on the other side
Could never be much worse than this
But could I go the distance?
I faced the door and all my shame
Tearin' off each piece of chain
Until they all were broken
But no matter how I tried
The other side was locked so tight
That door, it wouldn't open
Gave it all that I got
And started to knock
Shouted for someone
To open the lock
I just gotta get through the door
And the more that I knocked
The hotter I got
The hotter I got
The harder I'd knock
I just gotta break through the door
Gotta knock a little harder
Break through the door
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