Once upon a time, I met a girl.
I met a girl on a day that was beautifully ordinary. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. The air was neither hot nor cold and I gave it no notice on this day. Everything was tame, so as not to distract me from what was truly important.
I don't remember the color of her eyes, though I know they were dark. If I had to guess, I would say they were hazel, because I like hazel eyes. They were a perfect compliment - to her and to me. They accentuated an already lovely face and, at the same time, told me how special I was to them. They saw into me, not through me, and made me feel welcome.
Her expressions were soft. They were comfortable. I could stare at them for hours and not get lost. They put me at ease and let me know exactly where I was, safe and loved. When I'm lost, I get anxious. Anxiety vanished around this girl. I could never be lost with her.
The smile she gave told me what I had wanted to hear my entire life. I was with someone of the utmost sincerity and honesty. Never again would I have to worry about hidden emotion or hurtful words. Everything was in plain view. I saw it all exposed without a hint of embarrassment, shyness or worry. She was giving me all of her and I was happy to give her all of me.
We laughed together that day, but it wasn't the laughter itself that was special. It was the way we laughed. It was in our mannerisms, our breathing and the tilting of our heads in sync with each other. It all seemed to pick up her hair and flirt with it, tossing it. Long, straight, dark brown hair - it was ordinary and incredibly striking at once.
This girl was perfect in every way, but only for me. Her dress was non-descript, yet captured her as it flowed. Her hands were warm in mine and every time we took a step, it felt right. No one else could hold her hands and feel the same way. The reverse was true, as well. Our hands were home in each other.
What I knew instantly was that she loved me for me. I didn't have to worry about trying to be better or trying to be something that I simply couldn't be. She only asked that I be myself while I was with her, incredible flaws and all.
I had this dream almost twenty years ago, yet I have never forgotten that day or that girl. I've tried to force that fantasy on others, envisioning them as something that they could never be. I wanted the whole package, the fairy tale. In my search, I missed the pieces of the fantasy that were being given to me - the smile from one girl, the eyes from another, the laughter and sincerity from a third. She may be in my life already, waiting for the right timing.
She's waiting for me in the same dress and her hair is perfect. Her hands are folded in front of her, ready for mine. One day, our eyes will lock and we'll know immediately that the search is over.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Going Up?
I've been thinking a lot lately about how to bring more positivity into my life. As I've written, I know it's all about perspective and, usually, you can make it if you fake it. I don't always believe in that, but it seems true when it comes to smiles. "Smiling is my favorite." If you put a smile on your face, then you're more likely to forget about what's twisting in your head.
This morning (Monday), I started my day and my week on a good note, thanks to the kindness of a stranger. A cute stranger, I might add. I pulled into the parking lot at the same time as another woman, though she was much closer to the building's door than I was. She saw me get out of my car and grab my bag as she approached the entrance. I started for the building and did a quick calculation... she was a mile away, already at the door and heading for the elevator, I presumed. So I took my time walking, figuring I'd miss the ride up. But as I opened the door, I noticed that the elevator was waiting. I quickened my pace and, sure enough, she was holding the elevator door open for me. Immediately, I thanked her and she chuckled, probably noticing the grin on my face. As we approached my floor, I thanked her again, saying, "It's Monday morning and someone held the door for me. THANK YOU for starting my week off right."
We all do those quick measurements... if you're ten feet from the elevator, then I'll hold the door for you. If you're twenty feet, then I'm debating, though I'll probably hold it. If you're thirty feet, piss off. Grab the next one. (As you're mashing the Close button...)
This stranger (this wonderfully, cute, blonde stranger) really outdid herself. I was easily six or seven basketball hoops away from her, yet she held the door and greeted me with a smile. And if I had to bet on it, I would've put fifty bucks that she would've let the door close instead. I don't think I'm alone. Our instincts tend to go negative. It's a survival technique, I've read. A person's reflexes are highly attuned for negative acts because those are the ones that are dangerous and we, therefore, need to react quickly to them. But, man, what a downer those can be.
Last week, I was walking through the parking lot on my way back from lunch and traffic was fairly heavy as I crossed the road. A car was rounding the curve near me and I started rolling my eyes instantly. I thought, without a blink, "You son of a bitch... you're pulling out just to cut ahead." I felt like a complete ass when he blocked the rest of traffic, halting those who were NOT going to stop, just to let me cross. And he did it with a smile and a wave of his hand. I was surprised, both at his act of kindness and my immediate condemnation of something that hadn't happened yet. I jumped the gun. I let myself believe that this asshole, who was possibly the nicest person I met that day, was going to run me down to get a better parking spot.
So it got me contemplating how much time I waste fabricating negative stories... stories about how my boss is going to bitch at me for not finishing a project, how a customer is only calling because they're too stupid to listen to my instructions, how someone in a meeting is going to drone on for an hour and say noooothing of interest, or even how my son is going to be bored with dad because dad doesn't know how to play right. OR how that blonde woman is going to mash that Close button because she doesn't want to wait for a stranger on a Monday morning.
I guess by thinking the worst of people, I'm setting myself up for some nice surprises! But it seems like I'm missing out. Is it worth the quick surprises when I could have a constant level of pleasantry in my life by trying, simply trying, to believe that people are decent in this world?
This morning (Monday), I started my day and my week on a good note, thanks to the kindness of a stranger. A cute stranger, I might add. I pulled into the parking lot at the same time as another woman, though she was much closer to the building's door than I was. She saw me get out of my car and grab my bag as she approached the entrance. I started for the building and did a quick calculation... she was a mile away, already at the door and heading for the elevator, I presumed. So I took my time walking, figuring I'd miss the ride up. But as I opened the door, I noticed that the elevator was waiting. I quickened my pace and, sure enough, she was holding the elevator door open for me. Immediately, I thanked her and she chuckled, probably noticing the grin on my face. As we approached my floor, I thanked her again, saying, "It's Monday morning and someone held the door for me. THANK YOU for starting my week off right."
We all do those quick measurements... if you're ten feet from the elevator, then I'll hold the door for you. If you're twenty feet, then I'm debating, though I'll probably hold it. If you're thirty feet, piss off. Grab the next one. (As you're mashing the Close button...)
This stranger (this wonderfully, cute, blonde stranger) really outdid herself. I was easily six or seven basketball hoops away from her, yet she held the door and greeted me with a smile. And if I had to bet on it, I would've put fifty bucks that she would've let the door close instead. I don't think I'm alone. Our instincts tend to go negative. It's a survival technique, I've read. A person's reflexes are highly attuned for negative acts because those are the ones that are dangerous and we, therefore, need to react quickly to them. But, man, what a downer those can be.
Last week, I was walking through the parking lot on my way back from lunch and traffic was fairly heavy as I crossed the road. A car was rounding the curve near me and I started rolling my eyes instantly. I thought, without a blink, "You son of a bitch... you're pulling out just to cut ahead." I felt like a complete ass when he blocked the rest of traffic, halting those who were NOT going to stop, just to let me cross. And he did it with a smile and a wave of his hand. I was surprised, both at his act of kindness and my immediate condemnation of something that hadn't happened yet. I jumped the gun. I let myself believe that this asshole, who was possibly the nicest person I met that day, was going to run me down to get a better parking spot.
So it got me contemplating how much time I waste fabricating negative stories... stories about how my boss is going to bitch at me for not finishing a project, how a customer is only calling because they're too stupid to listen to my instructions, how someone in a meeting is going to drone on for an hour and say noooothing of interest, or even how my son is going to be bored with dad because dad doesn't know how to play right. OR how that blonde woman is going to mash that Close button because she doesn't want to wait for a stranger on a Monday morning.
I guess by thinking the worst of people, I'm setting myself up for some nice surprises! But it seems like I'm missing out. Is it worth the quick surprises when I could have a constant level of pleasantry in my life by trying, simply trying, to believe that people are decent in this world?
Friday, January 20, 2012
Planned Chaos
I'm discovering that it's difficult to write in the evening if I've gone to the gym. By the time I sit in front of the computer, my body is on the other side of the runner's high and it's hitting a 'tired contentedness'. I'm mentally exhausted, my eyes are drooping, the light of the flat screen is irritating, and I'm ready for bed - and it feels wonderful. I'm gaining plenty of reward by going to the gym, but it's forcing me to balance my time even more than I was previously.
It's another victory to be balancing my time. Me, addictive personality, slight OCD, all-or-nothing... I MUST go to the gym every day! But wait - I MUST hit a meeting every day! Hold on - I MUST get to work early and stay late every day! Yikes. As far as I can see it, that's nearly impossible when you factor in commuting and nuisances like, say, eating. Hungry, angry, lonely, tired. It's not long before 3 of those 4 hit me when I try to cram all of that into my days. So, lately, I've been doing what I feel like doing. Gym tonight? Sure. Meeting tomorrow? Okay. Watch some Family Guy instead? That works, too (in moderation, of course).
And that keeps it in the day. By not planning everything into a completely unmanageable schedule or routine, it lets me enjoy the things I CHOOSE to do in the moments they strike me. There's no tomorrow when I'm living in the moment. With no tomorrow, I'm not planning my life too far down the line.
That certainly doesn't mean that life shouldn't include planning essentials - retirement, college funds, budgeting, blah blah blah. I've just been going about those things all wrong. Those are "set it and forget it" type items. You should revisit them for fine tuning, but there's no need to dwell on them everyday, hoping that you've planned appropriately. When I focus on them too much, I get discouraged and end up in debt, which is where I am now. I say, "Screw it," and do dumb things, like buy new TV's. Do I really need a 32" flat screen to write my blog? No, but that's what I'm using.
I guess what I'm realizing is this: I'm a terrible planner! It's simply not one of my strengths. My OCD makes my body break out in hives when I don't create 50 checklists to control my day, yet those 50 checklists completely overwhelm me because I can't keep them freakin' organized! I need a checklist for my checklists!! You might think I'm joking, but I really did make a checklist when I was planning my whiteboard project checklist at work! And then I sit there, perplexed, because I can't decide if one checklist is more comprehensive and, therefore, better than the other. So I make another checklist!
Really, I suck when it comes to anything long term and I'm particularly happy that I'm admitting this, finally. It goes further than the mundane, worldly matters. I can't think of my sobriety long term, either. To me, a year is forever. Forever and a day. My mind drifts to thoughts like, "I MUST make a year of sobriety," and my life shatters. I cannot imagine being sober for a year... that leads me to start imagining being happy for a year. I cannot imagine that, either.
It's a whole other set of issues, of which I am just scratching the surface. Therapy has been causing my perspective to shift, especially lately - is it really that I can't drop my anger and depression or is it that I can't imagine myself being happy for any length of time, which is causing the depression? It was brought up recently that it's as if I feel I don't deserve to be happy... that I expect to be punished and happiness is out of my reach.
That's another post, after more reflection. "I need main-te-nance!"
Oh well. I have my strengths and I have my weaknesses. Acknowledge them both, use one over the other, and I'll be fine.
It's another victory to be balancing my time. Me, addictive personality, slight OCD, all-or-nothing... I MUST go to the gym every day! But wait - I MUST hit a meeting every day! Hold on - I MUST get to work early and stay late every day! Yikes. As far as I can see it, that's nearly impossible when you factor in commuting and nuisances like, say, eating. Hungry, angry, lonely, tired. It's not long before 3 of those 4 hit me when I try to cram all of that into my days. So, lately, I've been doing what I feel like doing. Gym tonight? Sure. Meeting tomorrow? Okay. Watch some Family Guy instead? That works, too (in moderation, of course).
And that keeps it in the day. By not planning everything into a completely unmanageable schedule or routine, it lets me enjoy the things I CHOOSE to do in the moments they strike me. There's no tomorrow when I'm living in the moment. With no tomorrow, I'm not planning my life too far down the line.
That certainly doesn't mean that life shouldn't include planning essentials - retirement, college funds, budgeting, blah blah blah. I've just been going about those things all wrong. Those are "set it and forget it" type items. You should revisit them for fine tuning, but there's no need to dwell on them everyday, hoping that you've planned appropriately. When I focus on them too much, I get discouraged and end up in debt, which is where I am now. I say, "Screw it," and do dumb things, like buy new TV's. Do I really need a 32" flat screen to write my blog? No, but that's what I'm using.
I guess what I'm realizing is this: I'm a terrible planner! It's simply not one of my strengths. My OCD makes my body break out in hives when I don't create 50 checklists to control my day, yet those 50 checklists completely overwhelm me because I can't keep them freakin' organized! I need a checklist for my checklists!! You might think I'm joking, but I really did make a checklist when I was planning my whiteboard project checklist at work! And then I sit there, perplexed, because I can't decide if one checklist is more comprehensive and, therefore, better than the other. So I make another checklist!
Really, I suck when it comes to anything long term and I'm particularly happy that I'm admitting this, finally. It goes further than the mundane, worldly matters. I can't think of my sobriety long term, either. To me, a year is forever. Forever and a day. My mind drifts to thoughts like, "I MUST make a year of sobriety," and my life shatters. I cannot imagine being sober for a year... that leads me to start imagining being happy for a year. I cannot imagine that, either.
It's a whole other set of issues, of which I am just scratching the surface. Therapy has been causing my perspective to shift, especially lately - is it really that I can't drop my anger and depression or is it that I can't imagine myself being happy for any length of time, which is causing the depression? It was brought up recently that it's as if I feel I don't deserve to be happy... that I expect to be punished and happiness is out of my reach.
That's another post, after more reflection. "I need main-te-nance!"
Oh well. I have my strengths and I have my weaknesses. Acknowledge them both, use one over the other, and I'll be fine.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
You Can Dooooo It
I'm finally ordering the Internetz (soon)!! I should've taken it into my own hands right from the start. This is one of those "courage to change the things I can" moments. Each time I've called the phone company, the respective representatives have given me different answers regarding what I need to do to get my line active. And my landlord didn't know what in holy blue hell to do, even though he was the person to say, "Oh yeah, I'll get that wired for ya." Boosheet!! I'm glad I did the wiring. After prying open the frozen Network Interface on the side of the house, I saw that it was wired wrong. Way to go. I mean, you can't really wire one incorrectly (each line is just two wires), but you can make it frustrating for people by reversing some of those wires! Whoever wired this house was drunk. Drunk, I say!!
But hey, we're not all bad. Occasionally, we drunks can throw a damn positive meeting! Before I get to that, though, a little negativity - I hate the word 'drunks'. I don't like it when people are trying to be funny by saying 'drunks' because it has such a stigma to it. So... wait... then I should edit my previous statement. We 'heavily problematic drinkers' can throw a damn positive meeting!
Tonight (last night, by the time this is posted), everything seemed to fall into place with its timing. It was a slow day at work, so I got out on time... hit the gym, ran a few miles... commuted home in 40 minutes and walked right into a meeting. Perfect. And the meeting was a great lift. We had, what we call, a 'gratitude meeting'. It's where we express, um, gratitude. Now, as a newcomer three years ago, I found these to be incredibly offensive. I really didn't give a shit how happy your life was. I was miserable. Being miserable, it was very difficult to identify with those who were... happy. I needed to hear dreadful stories to keep me coming. By hearing how low others were - not at that moment, but when they hit 'bottom' - I felt less alone. That's why it's important to hear the horrible drunk stories now and then. I generally stay away from them when I'm sharing, but they're crucial for the newcomers.
Nowadays, though, I need positivity, even when I'm not feeling positive myself. Sure, overly positive people still make me want to put hot pokers in my eyes on occasion, but I can respect how they're feeling and it's something that I do strive for in my life. Peace, joy and harmony, even when those three make me want to vomit.
My friends reading Covey are going to have a few things to say about this entry, I'm sure. And, yes, I've read the book, but my retention isn't what it used to be. Anyway...
What I shared this evening was my gratitude for a little self-worth. Although I've been in therapy for a few years, I wouldn't have gained a pseudo-positive attitude toward myself if therapy wasn't combined with a 12-step program (and SMART... RBT/CBT are wonderful for reversing negative behavior!). I don't give myself a lot of credit for the work that I've done in the past few years, let alone my life. I tend to focus on the negative and what I could have done better, rather than the things I've really shined at. It's why I burn out at work. Nothing is ever good enough and I'm always striving to make things better. I rarely take a breather and say, "Damn, nice job!" That kind of attitude may have prevented a few relapses, too. If I had the ability to say in my recovery, "Damn, nice job," then I doubt those negative emotions would have gotten the better of me. It's hard to dwell on anger and regret when you're smiling.
This especially applies to my relationship with my son. It's really easy for me to sink into the 'woe is me' doldrums and regret not being with him as much as I'd like to. I think about what would have been if I hadn't been following the darker road. I need to remember that I wouldn't have him in my life AT ALL if I wasn't trying to put 'daddy's' health first. It's been hard work - physically and mentally! And to see him light up when I walk through the door... my God. If that doesn't make me proud of the work I've done, then I don't know what ever would. My little monkeybean!! <insert hundreds of smiley emoticons shaped like monkeybeans>
And I'm not suggesting that I should be proud at the expense of humility. I do acknowledge the support around me, but I also think it's important for every one of us to give credit where credit is due - even when it means patting ourselves on the back. At the end of our coin presentations, we often say, "...and if you're sober today, give yourself a hand." If you're struggling with substance abuse, then acknowledge it's a freakin' job and a half to stay clean for 24 hours. If you've maintained that sobriety, then acknowledge you're a success. And if you've stumbled, then acknowledge that you've tried your damnedest in the past and you CAN do it again. Give it everything you've got because you ARE a success, just by virtue of trying. I'm not naive enough to think this applies to everything, but - dang it! - we CAN do it! (Thank you, SC... sometimes it takes one incredibly special person saying it to make it finally sink in. I'm very glad I've got you in my corner.)
Hey, screw alcoholism. If you're reading this, just had a bad day, but made it to the other side... then pat yourself on the back. YOU DID IT.
But hey, we're not all bad. Occasionally, we drunks can throw a damn positive meeting! Before I get to that, though, a little negativity - I hate the word 'drunks'. I don't like it when people are trying to be funny by saying 'drunks' because it has such a stigma to it. So... wait... then I should edit my previous statement. We 'heavily problematic drinkers' can throw a damn positive meeting!
Tonight (last night, by the time this is posted), everything seemed to fall into place with its timing. It was a slow day at work, so I got out on time... hit the gym, ran a few miles... commuted home in 40 minutes and walked right into a meeting. Perfect. And the meeting was a great lift. We had, what we call, a 'gratitude meeting'. It's where we express, um, gratitude. Now, as a newcomer three years ago, I found these to be incredibly offensive. I really didn't give a shit how happy your life was. I was miserable. Being miserable, it was very difficult to identify with those who were... happy. I needed to hear dreadful stories to keep me coming. By hearing how low others were - not at that moment, but when they hit 'bottom' - I felt less alone. That's why it's important to hear the horrible drunk stories now and then. I generally stay away from them when I'm sharing, but they're crucial for the newcomers.
Nowadays, though, I need positivity, even when I'm not feeling positive myself. Sure, overly positive people still make me want to put hot pokers in my eyes on occasion, but I can respect how they're feeling and it's something that I do strive for in my life. Peace, joy and harmony, even when those three make me want to vomit.
My friends reading Covey are going to have a few things to say about this entry, I'm sure. And, yes, I've read the book, but my retention isn't what it used to be. Anyway...
What I shared this evening was my gratitude for a little self-worth. Although I've been in therapy for a few years, I wouldn't have gained a pseudo-positive attitude toward myself if therapy wasn't combined with a 12-step program (and SMART... RBT/CBT are wonderful for reversing negative behavior!). I don't give myself a lot of credit for the work that I've done in the past few years, let alone my life. I tend to focus on the negative and what I could have done better, rather than the things I've really shined at. It's why I burn out at work. Nothing is ever good enough and I'm always striving to make things better. I rarely take a breather and say, "Damn, nice job!" That kind of attitude may have prevented a few relapses, too. If I had the ability to say in my recovery, "Damn, nice job," then I doubt those negative emotions would have gotten the better of me. It's hard to dwell on anger and regret when you're smiling.
This especially applies to my relationship with my son. It's really easy for me to sink into the 'woe is me' doldrums and regret not being with him as much as I'd like to. I think about what would have been if I hadn't been following the darker road. I need to remember that I wouldn't have him in my life AT ALL if I wasn't trying to put 'daddy's' health first. It's been hard work - physically and mentally! And to see him light up when I walk through the door... my God. If that doesn't make me proud of the work I've done, then I don't know what ever would. My little monkeybean!! <insert hundreds of smiley emoticons shaped like monkeybeans>
And I'm not suggesting that I should be proud at the expense of humility. I do acknowledge the support around me, but I also think it's important for every one of us to give credit where credit is due - even when it means patting ourselves on the back. At the end of our coin presentations, we often say, "...and if you're sober today, give yourself a hand." If you're struggling with substance abuse, then acknowledge it's a freakin' job and a half to stay clean for 24 hours. If you've maintained that sobriety, then acknowledge you're a success. And if you've stumbled, then acknowledge that you've tried your damnedest in the past and you CAN do it again. Give it everything you've got because you ARE a success, just by virtue of trying. I'm not naive enough to think this applies to everything, but - dang it! - we CAN do it! (Thank you, SC... sometimes it takes one incredibly special person saying it to make it finally sink in. I'm very glad I've got you in my corner.)
Hey, screw alcoholism. If you're reading this, just had a bad day, but made it to the other side... then pat yourself on the back. YOU DID IT.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Exposing My Crackers
Been a while! I wanted to write about therapy this week because it was one of those rare nights when I left more confused than when I walked in...
I think I understand why I'm enjoying writing this blog and it goes back to an entry in December. I wrote about the paradox of looking for support or love and then not knowing what to do with it once you got it. I want to express myself to others, yet I don't want to talk about it. By writing rather than talking, I can lay my feelings bare and walk away. Many people have left comments and I truly appreciate it. Please continue because you make me analyze all of this from different perspectives. I do NOT want to talk openly about it, though.
There are only a few people that I'll allow myself to talk to and I can count them on one hand. If you're not in that exclusive group, you shouldn't take it personally. I'm just not comfortable. Often, I don't know how to express myself anyway. I'll sit down, try to talk and all you'll hear is, "Um, ur, well, I feel... um... grrr.." And only a couple of friends have been able to say, "Don't worry. I know EXACTLY what you're saying."
This is rehashing old news - it's not that the rest of my family and friends aren't supportive. I know that you are, in your own ways. You've tried extremely hard to understand what you can't. In those cases, I wish you'd acknowledge that I'm a guy and I have my man-cave and all I want from you is a grunt and for you to turn the TV up. I'm simply not very good at all this emotional crap.
I think this might sum up how I was feeling when I left:
"It's a joy to be hidden, but a disaster not to be found." - D.W. Winnicott
I want to isolate and lick my wounds, yet the longer I'm isolated the worse the wound gets. Part of this is due to the fact that I've asked for help or understanding before and the results have been awful - from friends and family alike. There are specific incidents of baring myself, only to find that my confidence was handed to the very people I would NEVER want it exposed to. Or, just as bad in my opinion, I've found that the people I've opened up to were after this to use me. Misery loves company, especially the company of those more miserable. Support groups can be dangerous if you're not careful. Learned that the hard way...
If not for these realizations, though, I would not be connecting with those 'new' people in my life. The funny thing is, they've been around for years. It's only recently that communication has increased and bonds are being reforged. I never imagined that writing would kindle these relationships the way that it has. I sometimes feel that I should have the balls to talk openly about it and that I'm avoiding confrontation by writing instead. The reactions that I've received from other people have been the opposite. It seems like people enjoy the fact that I've had the balls to write! Yet, to me, making a public blog and exposing myself to hundreds of people is more cowardice than courage. Funny how that works. But there's no denying that it's doing me a world of good.
A question was posed to me a few weeks ago regarding my support group and how people would react if I relapsed right now... right at this very moment. It was uncomfortable at the time. I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to ask the question because I didn't want OTHERS to be uncomfortable. But I guess this is me asking just that question - what would your reaction be if I relapsed NOW. I'm not looking for an answer. I've written for almost a month and a half, so you've got some idea of where I stand. Most people that I know would have to resist the urge to slap the shit out of me. Do you turn around and tell others about what's happening ("Omg, guess what he did?")? Do you write to the world, "I wish he'd get his head out of his ass" (because that's happened)? Do you say, "Well, he's a relapser... I expected it and everyone should keep their distance" (that one, too)? Or do you just tell me that it'll be okay?
Just curious and I was told to put it on paper, so to speak. This is me trying to do what everyone has been asking me to do for years - open up. I feel like Harrison Ford in 'Regarding Henry' sometimes. You ask me to express myself and I wind up painting a picture of friggin' Ritz crackers. WTF...
But things really are good lately. I've been doing a lot of work and, while exhausting, I know it's paying off. It's been years since I've been able to sit down at night, turn on a little music or maybe read a little, and be comfortable *with myself*.
I think I understand why I'm enjoying writing this blog and it goes back to an entry in December. I wrote about the paradox of looking for support or love and then not knowing what to do with it once you got it. I want to express myself to others, yet I don't want to talk about it. By writing rather than talking, I can lay my feelings bare and walk away. Many people have left comments and I truly appreciate it. Please continue because you make me analyze all of this from different perspectives. I do NOT want to talk openly about it, though.
There are only a few people that I'll allow myself to talk to and I can count them on one hand. If you're not in that exclusive group, you shouldn't take it personally. I'm just not comfortable. Often, I don't know how to express myself anyway. I'll sit down, try to talk and all you'll hear is, "Um, ur, well, I feel... um... grrr.." And only a couple of friends have been able to say, "Don't worry. I know EXACTLY what you're saying."
This is rehashing old news - it's not that the rest of my family and friends aren't supportive. I know that you are, in your own ways. You've tried extremely hard to understand what you can't. In those cases, I wish you'd acknowledge that I'm a guy and I have my man-cave and all I want from you is a grunt and for you to turn the TV up. I'm simply not very good at all this emotional crap.
I think this might sum up how I was feeling when I left:
"It's a joy to be hidden, but a disaster not to be found." - D.W. Winnicott
I want to isolate and lick my wounds, yet the longer I'm isolated the worse the wound gets. Part of this is due to the fact that I've asked for help or understanding before and the results have been awful - from friends and family alike. There are specific incidents of baring myself, only to find that my confidence was handed to the very people I would NEVER want it exposed to. Or, just as bad in my opinion, I've found that the people I've opened up to were after this to use me. Misery loves company, especially the company of those more miserable. Support groups can be dangerous if you're not careful. Learned that the hard way...
If not for these realizations, though, I would not be connecting with those 'new' people in my life. The funny thing is, they've been around for years. It's only recently that communication has increased and bonds are being reforged. I never imagined that writing would kindle these relationships the way that it has. I sometimes feel that I should have the balls to talk openly about it and that I'm avoiding confrontation by writing instead. The reactions that I've received from other people have been the opposite. It seems like people enjoy the fact that I've had the balls to write! Yet, to me, making a public blog and exposing myself to hundreds of people is more cowardice than courage. Funny how that works. But there's no denying that it's doing me a world of good.
A question was posed to me a few weeks ago regarding my support group and how people would react if I relapsed right now... right at this very moment. It was uncomfortable at the time. I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to ask the question because I didn't want OTHERS to be uncomfortable. But I guess this is me asking just that question - what would your reaction be if I relapsed NOW. I'm not looking for an answer. I've written for almost a month and a half, so you've got some idea of where I stand. Most people that I know would have to resist the urge to slap the shit out of me. Do you turn around and tell others about what's happening ("Omg, guess what he did?")? Do you write to the world, "I wish he'd get his head out of his ass" (because that's happened)? Do you say, "Well, he's a relapser... I expected it and everyone should keep their distance" (that one, too)? Or do you just tell me that it'll be okay?
Just curious and I was told to put it on paper, so to speak. This is me trying to do what everyone has been asking me to do for years - open up. I feel like Harrison Ford in 'Regarding Henry' sometimes. You ask me to express myself and I wind up painting a picture of friggin' Ritz crackers. WTF...
But things really are good lately. I've been doing a lot of work and, while exhausting, I know it's paying off. It's been years since I've been able to sit down at night, turn on a little music or maybe read a little, and be comfortable *with myself*.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Waving Goodbye to a Suicide
I had a blog written and ready to go, so as not to disappoint those still reading it. But it looks like I have to get something else off my chest. This will be, I am sure, an unpopular opinion.
Being an alcoholic and attending support groups, and also having to deal with depression, I have seen my share of death. It's incredibly unfortunate, but it goes with the territory. There are some of us that will gather the strength and support to work through our issues, and others that will go the other way. The grief and remorse may be too much to bear or they won't find the support that they need before it's too late. They will find comfort in other, potentially deadlier, ways.
We simply deal with life differently. Not knowing how to cope in a healthy manner, we do things that many people find insane. Our symptoms manifest themselves through drinking and drugging, eating (or not eating), cutting, shopping or gambling or with sex (not deadly, of course, but harmful). The list goes on and on. Depending on which method is chosen, the situation may be worsened because of the stigma that's placed upon you for acting in these manners. Alcoholics and addicts don't get a lot of sympathy because people see their actions as a conscious decision to use, no matter how much pain they might be in or if they simply cannot stop on their own. Yet someone with an eating disorder will garner more sympathy because of how it manifests itself, clearly psychologically. Cutting is far worse than an eating disorder, however, because... well... because cutting is just plain crazy! Right??
Wrong.
It's amazing how far society has slipped into the "blame the victim" collective mentality. I'm not here to say that you should excuse inexcusable actions on account of, say, alcohol or drugs. But when you look deeper at what prompted these actions, depression is usually there. And this is no more apparent than when you're talking about suicide.
I feel (*I* feel... remember that... just my opinion) that it's a huge slap in the face to the victim(s) of suicide to call it a selfish act. Rather than judge the lifetime virtue of the person, we judge the person by the virtue of their final act. Actions do speak louder than words, but I feel strongly that one action should not be an epitaph. No one, NO ONE, considers suicide without being the victim of much deeper issues. Whether the brain isn't working right because of a misfire, medication, depression... the choice to commit suicide is not a logical one. It goes against our base survival instincts.
I know this may be difficult for many to understand, just like alcoholism or drug addiction or eating compulsions. I've seen some really dark places and I assure you that I didn't journey down those roads willingly. Disagree if you'd like. And I'll accept that this next statement may incense and infuriate some. I can understand a person considering suicide and thinking that it is the most SELFLESS act they could perform.
Remember, it's not logical thinking. If someone has gone far enough down that dark road, then I can imagine the thought that suicide would save their family and friends a lot of heartache and pain. "They'd be better off without me." There's no seeing that the very opposite is true when you're sitting in the dark.
Religion has taught us that suicide is a one-way ticket to hell. Society has us believing that suicide is the ultimate act of cowardice. I'm certainly not saying that families and friends don't have the right to be angry in these unfortunate circumstances. I won't invalidate their feelings by even considering that. If the person truly was special to them, then they'll work through that pain and hopefully remember what made them special in the first place.
Just consider it. That's all I'm asking.
~And I wish that I could help you
With what you hope to find
But I'm still out here waiting
Watching reruns of my life
When you reach the point of breaking
Know it's gonna take some time
To heal those broken memories
That another man would need
Just to survive~
Being an alcoholic and attending support groups, and also having to deal with depression, I have seen my share of death. It's incredibly unfortunate, but it goes with the territory. There are some of us that will gather the strength and support to work through our issues, and others that will go the other way. The grief and remorse may be too much to bear or they won't find the support that they need before it's too late. They will find comfort in other, potentially deadlier, ways.
We simply deal with life differently. Not knowing how to cope in a healthy manner, we do things that many people find insane. Our symptoms manifest themselves through drinking and drugging, eating (or not eating), cutting, shopping or gambling or with sex (not deadly, of course, but harmful). The list goes on and on. Depending on which method is chosen, the situation may be worsened because of the stigma that's placed upon you for acting in these manners. Alcoholics and addicts don't get a lot of sympathy because people see their actions as a conscious decision to use, no matter how much pain they might be in or if they simply cannot stop on their own. Yet someone with an eating disorder will garner more sympathy because of how it manifests itself, clearly psychologically. Cutting is far worse than an eating disorder, however, because... well... because cutting is just plain crazy! Right??
Wrong.
It's amazing how far society has slipped into the "blame the victim" collective mentality. I'm not here to say that you should excuse inexcusable actions on account of, say, alcohol or drugs. But when you look deeper at what prompted these actions, depression is usually there. And this is no more apparent than when you're talking about suicide.
I feel (*I* feel... remember that... just my opinion) that it's a huge slap in the face to the victim(s) of suicide to call it a selfish act. Rather than judge the lifetime virtue of the person, we judge the person by the virtue of their final act. Actions do speak louder than words, but I feel strongly that one action should not be an epitaph. No one, NO ONE, considers suicide without being the victim of much deeper issues. Whether the brain isn't working right because of a misfire, medication, depression... the choice to commit suicide is not a logical one. It goes against our base survival instincts.
I know this may be difficult for many to understand, just like alcoholism or drug addiction or eating compulsions. I've seen some really dark places and I assure you that I didn't journey down those roads willingly. Disagree if you'd like. And I'll accept that this next statement may incense and infuriate some. I can understand a person considering suicide and thinking that it is the most SELFLESS act they could perform.
Remember, it's not logical thinking. If someone has gone far enough down that dark road, then I can imagine the thought that suicide would save their family and friends a lot of heartache and pain. "They'd be better off without me." There's no seeing that the very opposite is true when you're sitting in the dark.
Religion has taught us that suicide is a one-way ticket to hell. Society has us believing that suicide is the ultimate act of cowardice. I'm certainly not saying that families and friends don't have the right to be angry in these unfortunate circumstances. I won't invalidate their feelings by even considering that. If the person truly was special to them, then they'll work through that pain and hopefully remember what made them special in the first place.
Just consider it. That's all I'm asking.
~And I wish that I could help you
With what you hope to find
But I'm still out here waiting
Watching reruns of my life
When you reach the point of breaking
Know it's gonna take some time
To heal those broken memories
That another man would need
Just to survive~
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Hindsight
It's been such a long week and I haven't felt much like writing. Don't worry - I'm not slacking off. I've felt displaced due to the apartment and lack of access. By the time I get to sit back and write, it's 9:30 and time for this guy to get to bed. Not only that, the therapy appointment really wore me out. I haven't felt this tired throughout my day in a while. It's persisted since Tuesday evening.
What I find interesting is that I haven't been less angry since the appointment, which was mostly about dropping anger... I've been angrier, if anything! Though, perhaps anger isn't the right word. I've been impatient and frustrated, but those may be in large part due to the mental exhaustion that the appointment caused. I have, however, been made more aware of these emotions. By making me confront anger with this new therapy, I catch myself losing my cool, causing me to say, "Woah, this isn't right. Deep breaths." Perhaps that was the whole point. It's a real shot to the Ego to be told that you're - aggressive, brooding, volcanic, resentful. These aren't endearing qualities. And I think that most people who know me well can attest to these things. I'm a pretty nice guy... until I blow my top. I stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff, holding things in and then the volcano blows. My elephant's ass catches fire and there's no stopping it until it's had enough. If I vented appropriately when things were happening, then I'd save my blood pressure from rising into the two hundreds.
So I've been analyzing my behavior patterns the past few days - what triggers me the most and how I deal with these triggers. I thought about my relapse pattern (which is no longer a pattern, right? I WAS a relapser) and it made me go back to some journal entries just prior to November. Here's a snippet from October 31st:
I’ve been stuck again. Nothing new. It happens a lot and then I relapse. And I have been thinking about drinking an awful lot lately.
You'd think I would have done something about it or talked to someone...
I’m worried if I give in to the feeling of “just one”, then it won’t stop. It’ll perpetuate again and I’ll ruin everything that I’ve earned.
Yep. Almost did lose everything.
The past two weeks have been a mess because of ---...
I identified exactly what was bothering me, but I still didn't want to talk about it.
I’ll write more about it… I may have to.
But, unfortunately, that was the last journal entry.
It reminds me of a horror movie. The kind of movie where someone finds a lost journal and it recounts the final days before the author disappears mysteriously. It's not close to the truth. It IS the truth. This author disappeared, swept away by a sinister force that resides in his own head.
There was more to the days leading up to the relapse, but I'm not ready to expose that to the public yet. I've shared it with those that needed to know. While it may seem I'm baring my soul to the world by writing these entries, there are certain events that I like to keep a little closer to my chest. I was grieving a bit, I suppose. Also, GOOD things were happening in my life, as well. Whether good things or bad things are happening in life, they still each produce stress and I haven't done a great job coping with it.
October through November is a tough period for me. A lot of people have a hard time with Christmas and New Years and I'm lucky that these two holidays typically lift my spirits rather than bring me down. Some pretty big things happened to me at the beginning of November... a long, long time ago. One of these days, I'll have to let them go. I'm not very good at that, either.
Next Halloween, do me a favor... tie me to a fence or something. Don't untie me until Black Friday. I'd really like to have a sober Thanksgiving for a change.
"The moment an individual can accept and forgive himself, even a little, is the moment in which he becomes to some degree lovable." - Eugene Kennedy
What I find interesting is that I haven't been less angry since the appointment, which was mostly about dropping anger... I've been angrier, if anything! Though, perhaps anger isn't the right word. I've been impatient and frustrated, but those may be in large part due to the mental exhaustion that the appointment caused. I have, however, been made more aware of these emotions. By making me confront anger with this new therapy, I catch myself losing my cool, causing me to say, "Woah, this isn't right. Deep breaths." Perhaps that was the whole point. It's a real shot to the Ego to be told that you're - aggressive, brooding, volcanic, resentful. These aren't endearing qualities. And I think that most people who know me well can attest to these things. I'm a pretty nice guy... until I blow my top. I stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff, holding things in and then the volcano blows. My elephant's ass catches fire and there's no stopping it until it's had enough. If I vented appropriately when things were happening, then I'd save my blood pressure from rising into the two hundreds.
So I've been analyzing my behavior patterns the past few days - what triggers me the most and how I deal with these triggers. I thought about my relapse pattern (which is no longer a pattern, right? I WAS a relapser) and it made me go back to some journal entries just prior to November. Here's a snippet from October 31st:
I’ve been stuck again. Nothing new. It happens a lot and then I relapse. And I have been thinking about drinking an awful lot lately.
You'd think I would have done something about it or talked to someone...
I’m worried if I give in to the feeling of “just one”, then it won’t stop. It’ll perpetuate again and I’ll ruin everything that I’ve earned.
Yep. Almost did lose everything.
The past two weeks have been a mess because of ---...
I identified exactly what was bothering me, but I still didn't want to talk about it.
I’ll write more about it… I may have to.
But, unfortunately, that was the last journal entry.
It reminds me of a horror movie. The kind of movie where someone finds a lost journal and it recounts the final days before the author disappears mysteriously. It's not close to the truth. It IS the truth. This author disappeared, swept away by a sinister force that resides in his own head.
There was more to the days leading up to the relapse, but I'm not ready to expose that to the public yet. I've shared it with those that needed to know. While it may seem I'm baring my soul to the world by writing these entries, there are certain events that I like to keep a little closer to my chest. I was grieving a bit, I suppose. Also, GOOD things were happening in my life, as well. Whether good things or bad things are happening in life, they still each produce stress and I haven't done a great job coping with it.
October through November is a tough period for me. A lot of people have a hard time with Christmas and New Years and I'm lucky that these two holidays typically lift my spirits rather than bring me down. Some pretty big things happened to me at the beginning of November... a long, long time ago. One of these days, I'll have to let them go. I'm not very good at that, either.
Next Halloween, do me a favor... tie me to a fence or something. Don't untie me until Black Friday. I'd really like to have a sober Thanksgiving for a change.
"The moment an individual can accept and forgive himself, even a little, is the moment in which he becomes to some degree lovable." - Eugene Kennedy
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
How Happy Are You... Really?
My first off-line entry (I wrote this Tuesday night). It didn't occur to me that I could write an entry off-line and post it later. I tend to think that I have more than one vice... and internet access is a biggie. It's nice to live in a society where 100% of us are addicted to the same thing and, therefore, it's no longer considered an addiction. It's a perfectly acceptable staple. Not having internet access here is like being on a hunger strike, but for no good reason. I have a feeling I will survive.
Now that I've been here a couple of nights, I can picture myself being comfortable in this place. It's small, cozy and private. My neighbors are nice, the landlord is accommodating (although oddly procrastinating) and I have a nice TV that I can't use, but looks good. The apartment doesn't smell like 'man'... yet. Also, I'm becoming a fan of WSRS and Delilah's nightly radio show. It's paranormally soothing.
Mentally, I'm exhausted. This is one of those nights I could have used a meeting. However, I had a rather lengthy therapy session instead. We're trying something new and I don't like it. It's a technique aimed at changing a person's affective state. I guess you can think of it as your baseline mood. Are you generally happy or sad? An optimist or a pessimist? Tranquil or angry? There are studies showing that affective state is determined primarily by your genes. If you're typically unhappy or pessimistic, then you've lost the Darwinian Lottery (hmm... just made that up. I like it). If you're happy or optimistic, then you've hit the jackpot! It's not that nature and nurture have little to do with it. It's just that a good chunk of your happiness has to do with how your brain is initially wired. It's a good indicator of how you'll deal with stress events in your life, too. I'm big on 'avoidance'. Although THIS part of my affective state was probably molded by how I grew up.
Side note - I find it interesting that my therapist decided to start this now, as I'm reading a book on exactly this subject. I do believe she's psychic.
The good news is that you can change your baseline affective state, but it takes daily practice. Part of this exercise, and it's a lengthy one that will take weeks to get through, is to identify the blockages in your life and then work to remove them. Surprisingly, fear isn't one of mine, although anxiety is. NOT surprisingly, anger is the largest block.
Have you ever sought to identify what's holding you back in life? Before tonight, had you asked me that question, I'd answer with any of the following - money, career misdirection, alcohol, relationship choices, etc. Those don't get at the root of the problem, though. What's really got me stuck are my emotions and anger tops the list. I could say, "From now on, I vow not to be as angry!" But define anger. There are so many different types and components! Are you aggressive, defiant, rebellious? Furious, brooding, vengeful? My ego took a big hit tonight when I read the word explosive and thought, "Damn... that's me." Until I hit the word volcanic. Then I said, "Oh shit. That's even closer."
There's so much to work through and it seems a bit overwhelming. I was drained when I left the office. Unless I drop the anger elements, I can't work on the affective state pieces that I really want in my life - like peace. Peace and tranquility mean more to me than any external factors ever could. Balance, fluidity... these are things I've only imagined to this point. I want to be fluid. I want the feeling of flow and adaptivity, the feeling that I can roll with any punch. I want to close my eyes at any point in the day and breathe so deeply that it fills the bottom of my lungs and the weight on my shoulders disappears. And, almost more importantly to me - if I can achieve this, then I want to part this upon my son.
Because if it's true that most of your affective state is a genetic lottery, he's already got a few strikes against him. That I cannot allow. And I know the best way to set an example for my son is to practice it in my own life. He's awfully observant. I don't think any father wants to say, "I hope my son is never like me."
I've got a long road ahead of me, but it'll be worth the effort. If you want to test yourself, then pull out a thesaurus and think about what's blocking you. Anger, insecurity, fear? Look up each one and meditate on which parts these elements play in your life. Then look up what you strive for in your life and how you can practice them to become a better 'You'. It's a lot to take in.
Now that I've been here a couple of nights, I can picture myself being comfortable in this place. It's small, cozy and private. My neighbors are nice, the landlord is accommodating (although oddly procrastinating) and I have a nice TV that I can't use, but looks good. The apartment doesn't smell like 'man'... yet. Also, I'm becoming a fan of WSRS and Delilah's nightly radio show. It's paranormally soothing.
Mentally, I'm exhausted. This is one of those nights I could have used a meeting. However, I had a rather lengthy therapy session instead. We're trying something new and I don't like it. It's a technique aimed at changing a person's affective state. I guess you can think of it as your baseline mood. Are you generally happy or sad? An optimist or a pessimist? Tranquil or angry? There are studies showing that affective state is determined primarily by your genes. If you're typically unhappy or pessimistic, then you've lost the Darwinian Lottery (hmm... just made that up. I like it). If you're happy or optimistic, then you've hit the jackpot! It's not that nature and nurture have little to do with it. It's just that a good chunk of your happiness has to do with how your brain is initially wired. It's a good indicator of how you'll deal with stress events in your life, too. I'm big on 'avoidance'. Although THIS part of my affective state was probably molded by how I grew up.
Side note - I find it interesting that my therapist decided to start this now, as I'm reading a book on exactly this subject. I do believe she's psychic.
The good news is that you can change your baseline affective state, but it takes daily practice. Part of this exercise, and it's a lengthy one that will take weeks to get through, is to identify the blockages in your life and then work to remove them. Surprisingly, fear isn't one of mine, although anxiety is. NOT surprisingly, anger is the largest block.
Have you ever sought to identify what's holding you back in life? Before tonight, had you asked me that question, I'd answer with any of the following - money, career misdirection, alcohol, relationship choices, etc. Those don't get at the root of the problem, though. What's really got me stuck are my emotions and anger tops the list. I could say, "From now on, I vow not to be as angry!" But define anger. There are so many different types and components! Are you aggressive, defiant, rebellious? Furious, brooding, vengeful? My ego took a big hit tonight when I read the word explosive and thought, "Damn... that's me." Until I hit the word volcanic. Then I said, "Oh shit. That's even closer."
There's so much to work through and it seems a bit overwhelming. I was drained when I left the office. Unless I drop the anger elements, I can't work on the affective state pieces that I really want in my life - like peace. Peace and tranquility mean more to me than any external factors ever could. Balance, fluidity... these are things I've only imagined to this point. I want to be fluid. I want the feeling of flow and adaptivity, the feeling that I can roll with any punch. I want to close my eyes at any point in the day and breathe so deeply that it fills the bottom of my lungs and the weight on my shoulders disappears. And, almost more importantly to me - if I can achieve this, then I want to part this upon my son.
Because if it's true that most of your affective state is a genetic lottery, he's already got a few strikes against him. That I cannot allow. And I know the best way to set an example for my son is to practice it in my own life. He's awfully observant. I don't think any father wants to say, "I hope my son is never like me."
I've got a long road ahead of me, but it'll be worth the effort. If you want to test yourself, then pull out a thesaurus and think about what's blocking you. Anger, insecurity, fear? Look up each one and meditate on which parts these elements play in your life. Then look up what you strive for in your life and how you can practice them to become a better 'You'. It's a lot to take in.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
2011, You Were Something Else
Happy New Year!!
I posted yesterday on Facebook that I hope it's a happy, healthy and uneventful 2012. Of course, I want plenty of fun and positive events to occur in my life and each day lately has been full of them. But if I have to settle for uneventful, then I'll be okay with that, too. May 2012 see a healthy, sober, joyous, new ME. No hospital rooms. No detoxes. No broken relationships. No unemployment. Ironically, status quo would be an enjoyable change!
All of that worry about moving into a new apartment? Completely gone! I woke up early this morning and thought, "New Year's morning and I don't have a pounding headache. I'll get a headstart on moving!" I walked into the new apartment and...
Nothing is complete.
Not only is nothing complete, it looks like the landlord was busy having a few beers while working... which might be why nothing is complete. Hey, no judgment from me. I'm sure he was working yesterday on New Years Eve. Still, all he needed to do was give me a call to let me know it wouldn't be ready. I very easily could have arranged my plans and given him additional time. Instead, I have no kitchen, I may have no bathroom, and there's an open 18-pack sitting in my fridge. I moved a few things in, not many, and found myself cleaning beer cans off my window sills.
It bothers me to an extent. I don't mind the 18-pack or the fact that he was drinking. What bothers me is the behavior, which I can identify and I know I exhibited. Cleaning beer cans from my windows? That's a little irritating. Bring them to the sink, clean them out, put them in the recycling... not hard. The fact that he was drinking and didn't call me to alert me to the delay? That's far more irritating. I can't tell you how many phone calls I avoided and how irresponsible I was, even when I only had a couple of drinks in my system. That's usually all it takes for people to say, "Baaaaaah, f it! I'll give the guy a call tomorrow!" And then tomorrow comes and there's still no phone call.
But I'm very grateful to have options. See - it WAS nice that the apartment is close to my parents' home! I have plenty of people who have offered me their assistance, either with moving or with a place to stay while this is getting sorted. It also made me rethink exactly what I needed to move versus what I wanted to move. You mean I can live without TV for a few days?? My God! It was nice to move some furniture today and listen to the game on my clock radio. There was something peaceful about it.
I knew I was going to need a boost with the changes occurring, so I got my tail back into the SMART Recovery forums, too. SMART Recovery evolved from rational emotive behavioral training and is an entirely different way of looking at substance abuse when compared to 12-step programs. They feel that we have the power to control our addictions by modifying our behavior alone, which flies in the face of many AA tenets. It's simply a matter of reshaping and retraining our thinking, which I've mentioned many times. I agree with the principles of SMART and use its tools every day to identify and stop irrational behavior (iB). It's another support forum and I need all the help I can get.
But its lack of spiritual focus keeps me attending AA meetings. I was immensely thankful to start my New Years Day with a meeting this morning. There's nothing like walking into a room, a non bar room, and have everyone know your name. The hugs and handshakes have no equal. It's an extended family that I can call upon at any time.
You know... I started this entry by listing a lot of the 'bads' that happened in 2011, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I learned an awful lot from those experiences and I've made deeper friendships than I've ever had in my life. 2011 is the reason I'm blogging. 2011 taught me to open up a little more than I have in the past. The year brought a lot of pain, yet also the pleasure of so many things. 2011 played an important part in my life, whether I liked it all or not. My heart's bigger for it.
"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love." - Stendhal
I posted yesterday on Facebook that I hope it's a happy, healthy and uneventful 2012. Of course, I want plenty of fun and positive events to occur in my life and each day lately has been full of them. But if I have to settle for uneventful, then I'll be okay with that, too. May 2012 see a healthy, sober, joyous, new ME. No hospital rooms. No detoxes. No broken relationships. No unemployment. Ironically, status quo would be an enjoyable change!
All of that worry about moving into a new apartment? Completely gone! I woke up early this morning and thought, "New Year's morning and I don't have a pounding headache. I'll get a headstart on moving!" I walked into the new apartment and...
Nothing is complete.
Not only is nothing complete, it looks like the landlord was busy having a few beers while working... which might be why nothing is complete. Hey, no judgment from me. I'm sure he was working yesterday on New Years Eve. Still, all he needed to do was give me a call to let me know it wouldn't be ready. I very easily could have arranged my plans and given him additional time. Instead, I have no kitchen, I may have no bathroom, and there's an open 18-pack sitting in my fridge. I moved a few things in, not many, and found myself cleaning beer cans off my window sills.
It bothers me to an extent. I don't mind the 18-pack or the fact that he was drinking. What bothers me is the behavior, which I can identify and I know I exhibited. Cleaning beer cans from my windows? That's a little irritating. Bring them to the sink, clean them out, put them in the recycling... not hard. The fact that he was drinking and didn't call me to alert me to the delay? That's far more irritating. I can't tell you how many phone calls I avoided and how irresponsible I was, even when I only had a couple of drinks in my system. That's usually all it takes for people to say, "Baaaaaah, f it! I'll give the guy a call tomorrow!" And then tomorrow comes and there's still no phone call.
But I'm very grateful to have options. See - it WAS nice that the apartment is close to my parents' home! I have plenty of people who have offered me their assistance, either with moving or with a place to stay while this is getting sorted. It also made me rethink exactly what I needed to move versus what I wanted to move. You mean I can live without TV for a few days?? My God! It was nice to move some furniture today and listen to the game on my clock radio. There was something peaceful about it.
I knew I was going to need a boost with the changes occurring, so I got my tail back into the SMART Recovery forums, too. SMART Recovery evolved from rational emotive behavioral training and is an entirely different way of looking at substance abuse when compared to 12-step programs. They feel that we have the power to control our addictions by modifying our behavior alone, which flies in the face of many AA tenets. It's simply a matter of reshaping and retraining our thinking, which I've mentioned many times. I agree with the principles of SMART and use its tools every day to identify and stop irrational behavior (iB). It's another support forum and I need all the help I can get.
But its lack of spiritual focus keeps me attending AA meetings. I was immensely thankful to start my New Years Day with a meeting this morning. There's nothing like walking into a room, a non bar room, and have everyone know your name. The hugs and handshakes have no equal. It's an extended family that I can call upon at any time.
You know... I started this entry by listing a lot of the 'bads' that happened in 2011, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I learned an awful lot from those experiences and I've made deeper friendships than I've ever had in my life. 2011 is the reason I'm blogging. 2011 taught me to open up a little more than I have in the past. The year brought a lot of pain, yet also the pleasure of so many things. 2011 played an important part in my life, whether I liked it all or not. My heart's bigger for it.
"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love." - Stendhal
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