First of all, I would like to thank everyone for the messages that were sent regarding my last entry (oh, and you should be able to comment now). The support, for the most part, was amazing. I was not entirely impressed with the responses of those closest to me, but self-preservation must be observed and respected. I have also been accused of blaming others for this disease, which (I assure you) is not the case. Yes, I have had trauma in my life, but people deal with it differently. Me, I chose to drink (not exactly intentionally and in the way it ended up, but that's what I chose)... that's how several people in my family have chosen to deal with their problems. And I'm sure I'll get shit for saying that, too. But this is my outlet, not theirs. This is the therapy that I have chosen and it may just save my life. And am I ready to bring the rest of my family into what I consider the "sacred halls" of the woman that I confide in ABOUT them? HELL NO. I'm not declining family therapy, but I'm certainly not about to do it under these conditions. I don't even know who *I* am yet! I'm 35 and I have no idea who I am! Thankfully, I know I'm not alone with that issue.
By the way, why the hell is this called Wellbits?? Several years ago, I registered for a site that would allow me to blog a little about my interest in wellness... anatomy, physiology... my real passions. Wellbits sounded like a cereal - like Cheerios! You'd get a little bit of wellness at a time. Not enough to overwhelm, but enough to fill you up when you read it. Wellbits stuck and it seemed appropriate for this new occasion. So there ya go.
I would like to say that today was better. I'm still looking for a roof (although I am blessed to have two friends assisting me at the moment), I'm still jittery about my job (even though I've been specifically told that I could come back... but that's the neurosis in my head), and I'm still very crushed that I blew the trust of some special people. However...
I made two meetings today and it was exactly what I needed. I saw my friends again. I heard the no-nonsense bullshit of people struggling, people dying, people losing it all because drinking seemed like a better choice than living life. Tonight, I was a little late getting to the 8pm meeting (which I usually don't go to - why? Because it's from 8pm to 9pm and that's just FAR too late to make a meeting. Good excuse, right?). But because I was late, I found a table with several people who were there from a local rehab facility. We introduced ourselves and spoke for a bit during break. And I could see it. 3 days sober. 8 days sober. The look of fear in their eyes. The trembling in their voices. It was exactly how I felt when I came back to AA after being in rehab myself (not this time, thankfully... this time I was lucky to have my legs on auto-pilot to get my 24 hour chip and it felt GOOD). But to see and hear how they felt scared me. I've been in their positions at least half a dozen times and it always feels the same way... dark, scary, nauseating. So I told them that, while I had spoken at their rehab several times, I was feeling the same way. And it was that sharing that wiped the nerves and the tears right off the table. That's what this fellowship is all about.
Several other wonderful things happened today as a result of my meetings. Mind you, due my relocation and the amount of work that I have to do, I considered putting the meetings off. Instead, I ran from the house and made both. I spent half an hour standing in the cold after the noontime meeting talking... just talking. We froze our asses off, but we laughed - hard. We told stories about our insane thinking, the stupid things we've done, the awful lessons we learned. It's something that I need to do more of - because, like the sharing we did during evening meeting - this program is NOT about the meetings themselves. It's about the friendships and support groups that you create outside the meetings. You connect with people that know what you're going through and can truly help when push comes to shove.
I was able to see my son this evening - the little monkey. After only a few weeks away, he gets bigger and bigger. I'm tired of missing those moments. Coincidentally, though, I also bumped into an AA member that I consider a friend and a mentor... someone who doesn't sugarcoat things and tells me exactly what I need to hear. I may have missed some time with my son (which I was rather crudely reminded of), but I needed to bump into this person. For some reason... don't ask me why... she's had my back since I came into the program. I truly consider her one of my AA "insiders". She gave me some wonderful advice regarding something that's been bothering me badly and, while she used an awful four letter word ("time"), she was dead-on. I'm also very proud that she recently had an anniversary. Cliche, but one day at a time. And she calmed my stomach regarding the awful betrayal and trust issues I've been facing.
Regarding those issues, I was surprised tonight with a few very tight hugs. Things won't be back to normal for a very long time, but I savored them. I didn't think, "Dammit, she was only being polite," or, "Well, that won't last... she was only being nice." I took them for what they were. And they were very special to me. That's really an understatement. They meant the world to me.
I'm going to end tonight with this story... it's from the book of Alcoholics Anonymous and helped me understand a little bit about what we go through as addicts or alcoholics. It's the jay-walking story. I'm not writing this from the book - I'm pulling this from a site so it may be a bit paraphrased:
"Our behavior is as absurd and incomprehensible with respect to the first drink as that of an individual with a passion, say, for jay-walking. He gets a thrill out of skipping in front of fast-moving vehicles. He enjoys himself for a few years in spite of friendly warnings. Up to this point you would label him as a foolish chap having queer ideas of fun. Luck then deserts him and he is slightly injured several times in succession. You would expect him, if he were normal, to cut it out. Presently he is hit again and this time has a fractured skull. Within a week after leaving the hospital a fast-moving trolley car breaks his arm. He tells you he has decided to stop jay-walking for good, but in a few weeks he breaks both legs."
"On through the years this conduct continues, accompanied by his continual promises to be careful or to keep off the streets altogether. Finally, he can no longer work, his wife gets a divorce and he is held up to ridicule. He tries every known means to get the jaywalking idea out of his head. He shuts himself up in an asylum, hoping to mend his ways. But the day he comes out he races in front of a fire engine, which breaks his back. Such a man would be crazy, wouldn't he?"
"You may think our illustration is too ridiculous. But is it? We, who have been through the wringer, have to admit if we substituted alcoholism or any addiction for jay-walking, the illustration would fit exactly. However intelligent we may have been in other respects, where alcohol has been involved, we have been strangely insane. It's strong language but isn't it true?"
Maybe, just maybe, that will help to illustrate exactly how we think. I have been told to "knock it off" and even to "pull my head out of my ass" (thanks, by the way, that was truly appreciated and great constructive criticism). That's not how this thing works. If you are very, very lucky, you'll get it on the first or second try. But even that scares me because I know the odds. So to those friends of mine who have been lucky enough to pull together a few months more than I ever did, please be careful (and I am SO proud of you, by the way). Know that I think about you every second of the day and pray that fire engine never hits. But if it does, I'll be there for you. I pushed you away when I got hit, but I promise (as I said in my last post) that I will come crashing through that door to pull you to safety. Whether you're a sponsor, a sponsee, my dearest of friends (and you know who you are) or just an acquaintance who shares this affliction - I will pull you out. I may not be able to do much more than that, considering my head is clearing once again, but my legs are under me and, while I may look scrawny, I'm a pretty strong guy. I WILL pull you out.
There are too many people to thank specifically tonight for all of the responses I received for my last entry (considering it's 2:30am), but I will get to you... don't worry, anonymity will be kept. Also, thank you to all those who welcomed me back today at noon and 8pm with open arms.
I look forward to a new day and a new week. It won't be easy - probably one of the toughest weeks I'll experience - but I know there's an entire network that has my back. I can do this. As long as I remember those surprise hugs that I received tonight, I know I can do this.
You're the best friends I've ever had. Somehow, someway, I will repay you.
Goodnight.
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