Numbers... Incredibly Meaningful Numbers

Or 'Numbers... Utterly Meaningless Numbers', part two.

As I approach the first ninety-day sober mark that I've earned in almost a year, I decided this morning to revisit a post that I wrote in December 2011 regarding AA and their 'chip reward system'.  Those AA members with less than a year sober are encouraged to receive chips (like NA's key chains) for every month they have remained clean.  Personally, I dislike these chips because I feel the focus should be on living clean as part of a daily lifestyle and not on making it month to month.  I can't deny that it helps elevate group morale in meetings and gives newcomers hope, though.  My heart swells when I see friends stand up, knowing they've got another month under their belts.  Even the SMART program that I participate in has forum threads created specifically for those with 7-days, 30-days, and 60-days of sobriety.  However, these threads are all-inclusive, not exclusive.  No matter how much time you have, you can participate in any of these conversations.  The segregation is there because it's sometimes more helpful to talk with peers who are closer in consecutive days.  I love SMART.

And with ninety days coming soon, I admit that I'm pretty damn happy with the work that I've performed this year.  It's been rocky, for sure, and there were a few times I wanted to throw in the towel (rocky, throw in the towel... no intentional connection there).  Now that I think about it, I did throw in the towel - just for that round.  When the bell rang again, I realized the job wasn't going to get done unless I did it myself.  No more dickin' around, even if it meant exposing parts of me that were much darker than just alcohol.

'Just alcohol'.  I guess that's the bottom line in all this.  It's 'just alcohol'.  I have more important things to worry about.

I've been waking up EACH day with a sense of pride that I successfully managed yesterday and, therefore, I can do it again today.  From one day to the next lately, I have no idea which personality is going to hit the ground.  When I find out, whether good or bad, I accept that guy and adjust my plans accordingly.  How is my mood today?  How are my meds working?  Do I have the energy to deal with court, the job hunt, my unbelievable bills?  When's my next therapy appointment?  Do I have to call insurance or rehab for training?  Nothing on my plate is unmanageable or even difficult, as long as I know my strengths and limitations and give myself a lot more leeway than I have in the past.  I have to take it slow, as there is a lot of work to be done and wreckage to clean.

Have you ever seen a TV game show like this: two partners have to answer 10 combined trivia questions.  The first partner is given 30 seconds and answers... 2 questions... leaving his buddy to answer 8 questions in the same 30 seconds.  The TV camera pans to the second partner and catches him mouthing the words, "what the fu..."  Cut quickly to commercial.

That's how I feel about the old me.  I don't blame him.  While trying to answer the questions, he got Slimed, nailed in the head with a Plink-o coin, punched in the groin by a very small Asian woman, and mugged by Alex Trebek.  I think.  So, the new me has some catching up to do, but it can be done.

I want to write another blog soon based solely on my rapid-cycling, but for now I'll say that I'm happy to be bipolar.  It's added a new level of difficulty to the game, which is a blessing and not a curse.  Because I don't know what to expect from hour to hour, day to day, I have a real sense of accomplishment when I kick my feet up at night, even when the day didn't go well.  Truth is, though, most days are a-okay.

So, to know that I've almost strung three-months' worth of these days together... yeah, I'm happy with that.

(insert smiley face or something clever)

Power Struggle

About three years ago, I did something that people called stupid.  Like... incredibly stupid, even for me.  Based on my many 'issues', I signed away full custody of my son.  It was a gigantic blow to my ego, but I couldn't deny that I was an unfit father in the condition I was in.  It had nothing to do with finances and certainly wasn't about not wanting to be with him.  Should something happen to his mother, god forbid, it would leave me to care for him while also juggling my mental health.  On the surface, signing over custody probably was stupid.  You had to look deeper to see the whole picture.  And I don't plan on being without custody forever.  For now, it means not seeing my son very much.

Last week, my munchkin was sick.  It was nothing serious, though it kept him home for several days and his mom wasn't able to take time off.  Being home myself, I was asked to watch him at my parents' - a terrific opportunity, albeit at his expense.  It gave me a chance to be 'Dad' - to care for him, take his temperature, get him something to eat, make sure a full compliment of cartoons was available, etc.  We made scrambled jellybean eggs, watched Curious George, rediscovered the original Optimus Prime that I had stashed in the attic, and played Lego StarWars and Mario Kart.  I even showed him how to fart with his armpits.  What are dads for, right?

But this was all done at my parents' house.  I can't have him at my place because I don't have unsupervised visitation rights as part of the agreement I signed.  Strike one.  My parents also see him every day and I do not.  They're parents to him more than I am.  Strike two.  Finally, they're parents and I'm still a kid who doesn't know a lot about being a parent.  Strike three.

Can you see the potential for tension?  By day three, I was absolutely exhausted and had to get home.  By day three, my parents were absolutely exhausted and wanted me to get home.  Simple things like whether or not to give my son medicine became arguments.  "We're his grandparents and his throat hurts so give him medicine."  "I'm his dad and he told me that his throat didn't hurt so I'm NOT giving him medicine."  (Not a quote, but you get the idea.)

I think we see each side, as mediated by my sister (thank... you).  And I don't write any of this to vent about how my son received care!  I'm hoping my family can laugh as they read this.  I personally think it went well, but the situation stirred a lot of feelings for me.  This was my chance to feel like a real father for a few days, uninterrupted.  I haven't had that in years and it stings to look at how fast he's growing and to recognize that I've missed a lot of time with him already.  I'm usually not available to care and comfort him.

Also, as the tension rose, it was clear that the family was raising questions about MY wellness.  Was I getting aggravated because of a bipolar flare-up?  A little, yes.  Was I getting aggravated because of an impending relapse?  Hell no.  Dammit, I can get upset, just like anyone else!

I may be feeling better, but that doesn't mean life is better or where I would like it to be.  As I put more and more healthier days together, my desire to have "everything as it should be" grows (should, should, should).  My patience wanes and I get irritated more easily when I discover the trust in my relationships isn't at 100%.  That's not fair to others, though, considering how long they've been dealing with this.

I've made it this far.  I need to push these issues aside, as I can't change them, and simply continue to grow in health and happiness.  It's been damn hard work and I don't plan on stopping now.

And thank you, very much, to my family and extended family for helping with my son.  You have no idea how much it means to me.

Paint It Black

This really needed its own time and space.  I'll break from my usual babble and do something fun...

Don't dare me to do something just for the sake of being funny.  Don't dare me to do anything at all, ever.  It becomes personal and I will find a way to accomplish it.  Especially if your female.  My testosterone starts to boil, I make stupid ape noises and I have an overwhelming need to impress - even if that dare is to do something so incredibly anti-machismo, I'd lock myself in a closet once it was done.

Well, this came damn close, but I did it.  I learned quite a bit.  Actually, it says quite a bit about where I'm at personally and how few inhibitions I have left.  That tends to happen when you've spent more time in hospitals, rehabs or psych units than Scott Weiland.  Just kidding... he still has me beat.

What else did I learn?

1. I finally understand why cuticles are important to maintain.
2. The use of cotton balls or other items to separate one's toes is much more important than I ever could have realized.
3. If you are taking Lithium for Bipolar and your hands shake, even slightly, you should not be attempting what I am attempting... EVER.
4. This shit dries very, very, very quickly. Have a wet nap handy at all times.
5. There are two types of black, apparently - one with glitter and one without. Who knew?
6. If you have enormous toes, then you had better do yoga prior to painting. The sides are not easy to get.
7. Own a spotlight? USE IT...
8. Do not get frustrated and move quicker after the first foot is complete. Spread *evenly*. Polish globs and rolls around your toes when you are not looking.
9. Scratch the wet nap. Just bring a large, wet bath towel that you're willing to part with.
10. While it dries quickly, do not walk like an elephant after you're done. You will have NONE of the polish on your nails and ALL of the polish under your toes.

So, this is especially dedicated to my SMART friends.  I took it against the guitar so you could see the contrast and the shitty job I did.  Sorry about the gross feet.  But I told you I'd do it!