Slowly your character defects can wear on you

I know I'm so not there yet, but we talked about step 6 today in the meeting, and it talks about being entirely ready for God to remove our defects of character. Willingness, again. Just being READY, and asking God for his help. Funny that I've been talking about character defects all day, and sins and such.

It was a little meeting, so I shared how I feel three of the sins the most: pride, sloth, and lust. I didn't share the lust part, cause it was all men and me. But I did share some things that made me think. It's funny, you never know what you're thinking till you want to speak honestly to a crowd.

I think I'm better than other people. Smarter. Prettier. Kinder. I think sometimes in meetings that people don't know how to read. I try not to judge them on that. I try not to be judgy in my pridefulness. Really, I do try. But really, just being prideful is being judgy. I wonder sometimes if people understand the words that I'm saying, and so I try not to use big words. I try to dumb it down so people understand. How bitchy of me! I underestimate people all the time. I think I'm just so much better. Wow. How awful.

And sloth. I talked before about my sloth at work, and how it's all based on fear of doing it wrong, or even doing it right. I don't get anything done because I'm so above the work, and it's boring, but really I'm just afraid to get it done. I'm afraid it won't be good enough.

Maybe with the pride I'm just afraid that really I'm dumber than everyone else. Maybe I'm just scared I'll use the wrong words, so I use simple ones. Maybe I'm underestimating myself, too.

Amazing what you discover when you really look at yourself.

Should be an S word

All my posts seem to start with S today, so I thought I'd give this an S title, too.

I need a meeting. I need more meetings than there are today. I had to work this morning, and so missed my sponsor's 8am meeting. There's one in half an hour, but it's step study. I was hoping for another speaker meeting. I like those. I'm so interested in other people's stories. It's interesting how addiction took us all down the same roads, and eventually led us to the realization that this wasn't working anymore.

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol, that our lives had become unmanageable.

Powerless is such a strong word. I do believe that I'm powerless over the next drink. I want it, but I don't seek it. I think it just calls to me and tells me it will help me solve all this pain. And that's what it's all about for addicts, I think, covering up the pain we all feel inside, real or imagined. And to be powerless over something, to be completely out of control? That's something I know from mental illness. I am not in control of my brain, all I can control are my reactions to the crazy things my brain tells me.

Unmanageable. Mental illness isn't manageable without medication (most of the time) and addiction isn't manageable without something like AA or a higher power. My life wasn't completely a mess this time - I still have my job, my car, my apartment - but my behavior had become unmanageable. I never knew when I was going to black out or when I was just going to get drunk enough to sit in the shower and cry under the hot water pouring down.

So I'm going to a meeting. And I hope I can find fellowship there. I hope we're on step one.

Sane

Just picked up a book by one of my favorite authors. Marya Hornbacher. She has written three books: Madness, Wasted, and Sane.

In Madness, she talks about her fight with bipolar disorder. She's an incredible wreck most of the time, in and out of institutions, ruining marriages, etc. The rest of the time she's an incredible business woman, writing tons of articles and teaching. She's quite an incredible force. Her descriptions of her manic episodes were so right on, that she made me feel manic just reading it. Her depression was so low that I never thought she'd get out of it.

And then I saw this book: Sane - Mental Illness, Addiction, and the 12 Steps. She made it! And look, now she's where I am! Amazing. I've heard that in AA a lot of people think taking medication for mental disorders is weak, or just like taking other drugs. What they don't understand is that mental illness is a disorder of the brain chemistry, often running in families and exacerbated by dysfunctional family situations. It seems the majority of people with mental illness turn to addiction to deal with their problems. That's why they call it self-medicating.

Taking medication you need, just like if you were a diabetic, has no shame in it. As a mentally ill person, you need those meds to keep you as close to sanity as you can get. They serve their purpose, and should not be demonized.

So Marya created another book to help the mentally ill person through the steps, applying it to our addiction, but helping us understand our own concepts of sanity. When it came to step two, believing a higher power could restore us to sanity, "Many of us balked." I sure did. What was sanity? Had I ever been there? How would I be able to tell?

I'm hoping this book will be as great as her others, and give me a little more insight into the program and sanity itself.

Seven saintly virtues

In Catholicism you're not all bad. God loves you, which is why He sent His son to forgive our sins. I swear, it's not as bad as people make it out to be. There's no fire and brimstone.

So, to balance out the seven deadly sins, there are seven virtues. I added the saintly part. They are: chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and yes, humility.

People are not all bad, and neither am I. I have those virtues, as well as those sins. Minus the chastity part, which I'm working on. It's like quitting smoking: it's really hard to not go out in your loneliness and find someone who will worship your body, if only for an hour. I should have been a prostitute, if the thought of it didn't make me want to cry. Sometimes I feel like I've already been one. Jesus. Now I don't even want to sleep with me.

Walking down the street at the beach with Adam, we gave a homeless kid the rest of our dinner. I know repeating your good works to others makes them not so good, but it's my blog. Every day I do charity and kind works. I work for charities, I donate money and goods each year, without the tax break, and I serve as a volunteer in a charitable organization. I've got love of your fellow man down. At least, I think. Lately, I've been a bit disgruntled. A lot of non profits are shit. They mess with their finances, and treat their employees like shit. Not all of them are like this, but I've worked in some bad atmospheres.

So, patience and humility are the two I'm working on. We've already talked a little about humility, and since it's so vital in AA, I'm sure it will come up again. Then there's patience. We've gone over that, too. I am impatient. I like things to come now. I want to be on step twelve. I want a damn spiritual awakening. I want to make amends now. I want to be on the way to peace and a better life. I just have to remember that I am already. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say, and a deeper spiritual life for me won't happen tomorrow. I'm not going to heal my inner child next week. So I need to learn patience.

Seven deadly sins

"If we can examine every disturbance we have, great or small, we will find at the root of it some unhealthy dependency and its consequent unhealthy demand."
- Daily Reflections, July 17.

Every dependence we have. Step four: looking at your character defects in detail and examining their basis in your personality. In the Big Book, they start by giving you the examples of the seven deadly sins. Let's see if I can remember them: pride, lust, sloth, gluttony, anger, and envy. I'm missing one. I think it's something like despair.

We already had a nice discussion about my pride problem, and you can probably tell I have a bit of a lust issue, and some anger problems. I am the sloth at work, out of fear. I am a manic-depressive, so I've got obsessive self-loathing covered, too.

So what about gluttony and envy? Oh, I am envious all the time, but of the little things. I wish I had siblings, I wish I made as much money as Emily, I wish I had a stable family life, I'm envious of people who's parents are still together. Envy, envy, envy. Easy.

And gluttony. Well, hell, I stuff my emotions down with food just like I do with booze, but they are talking about another kind of gluttony. More like the hoarding kind. Keeping your emotions or finances so tied up in yourself that you can't let go and share. I am liberal with money (part of the manic-depressive fun), but I really don't share my emotions. I mean, people know how I feel; I'm not afraid to express them; but people close to me don't know how I REALLY feel. I'm never brave enough to let them all the way in. There's something dark and scary inside me, and I'm afraid people won't want to know. I'm afraid they'll leave if I really share just how crazy and depressed I am all the time.

I just gave a friend this blog link. Don't worry, I'm still going to be brutally honest with myself, but I trust her with my feelings. I trust her to know that she can read and not cry for me (Argentina). She'll still be my friend anyway. Welcome Jennifer.

A fiesta it's not

I love to throw parties. Any excuse for a party, and I'm on it. Grilling in the backyard, hanging out with friends, getting ridiculously drunk.

My last party was Cinko de Drinko on Cinko de Mayo. I had about 20 people over in my little backyard and dressed it up in Mexican themed stuff. I even have chili pepper lights and some with sombrero's on them. It looked awesome. I started drinking while setting up the party, around noon. I shared a bottle of wine with the guy on the grill, and by the time people arrived at 3 I was primed and ready. I also had a friend in town who was leaving that night at 7 from the airport near my house. I had promised him a ride.

Progressively, I got wasted. I'm not sure how many bottles I personally finished, but there were about a dozen in my recycle bin the next morning. There were also numerous beer cans and about two pitchers of punch that I know I drank. Tequila is the official drink of Mexican themed parties, you know.

When it came time for my friend to leave, I got up and weaved to find my keys. Luckily, the only sober person there offered to drive him. I so would have. I was ready and everything.

The rest I remember of the night, I was tripping over my skirt and falling down in my house, and then I woke up the next morning in my pj's, in my own bed, with my ex-boyfriend. Again. I promised myself I wouldn't sleep with him anymore, and apparently I said some things that he took as me liking him still. I mean, he should have taken it that way. I said we might as well get married cause no one wants either of us. I'm a bitch.

My friend Mary called the next day and told me to promise not to tell him what we talked about. She said, I totally agree that he was really mean to you when you were dating, but he'd be mad if you repeated anything I said. I pinkie swore not to tell - I have absolutely no memory of talking to her.

So, how do I throw a party now? What will my guests do? Since all my friends drink, should I just let them get drunk and abstain? Labor day is coming up, and I'll luckily be out of town, but I have my annual Halloween party and then drunk Thanksgiving where I take care of all the orphans who can't fly home. How will we be social? How to lubricate a party on Shirley Temple's?

Why don't I like me?

I just took a sleeping pill, and it's totally not making me want to sleep. In fact, it's just making me more crazy. I know I should turn off the computer and stop thinking, but it seems today is thinking day. So what more wisdom could I possibly impart today? Wisdom? You say, what wisdom? Come on, I'm at least slightly smart. Admit it, you love me. And, now I'm talking to myself again.

Self-love: self-loathing. Don't we all go through these emotions? How do you love yourself? Adam has been dealing with this question a lot. His therapist says you can't love yourself too much. You need to give yourself the love you didn't receive as a child, or whenever.

But how do you love yourself? They tell you to exercise, eat right, call people who love you. But is that enough? Do you have to take a fearless and moral inventory of how you are lovable? Let's do it!

Ok, I am lovable because:

I am a kind person. I really love others, and I love to hear them talk. I want to help. I know, this can be really annoying, but I try not to offer too much advice; I just listen.

I am funny. You know I am. Admit it.

I am beautiful. At least kids on the boardwalk think so.

Because.... Because.... Huh. Well, I've got looks covered, and the basics of funny and kind. And generous probably fits in there somewhere. But why am I lovable? Why do people want to be around me? Beats the hell out of me, apparently. I'm sure I could come up with a million reasons why people shouldn't like me. Sometimes I don't like me. Like now, when I think I'm being annoying by talking so much. But it's my damn blog, and that's what it's here for: for me to ramble. So why can't I think of any other reasons? Am I that blocked out emotionally that I can't even think of the good things?

I know deep down that I'm lovable. I can feel it. Why can't I see it?

So lonely without my old buddy

And, I'm still talking! Hooray! If you're awake too, congrats, you've found my very rambley brain this evening. Don't even bother reading everything I've written today, it's all crap. Well, no, it's kinda fun, but there's A LOT of it. And I'm not done yet.

So I was just talking about loneliness. Of course, there's a WikiHow for that. There's one for everything. It says, "Many times it isn't the partner or friend you are missing, but the activities and hobbies you shared."

A-ha moment! I miss booze!! That's why I'm lonely! I'm used to having my buddy old pal wine glass here with me while I surf the internet for random words that come to my mind. I'm used to bringing the bottle out of the kitchen and into the living room to accompany me from waking to oblivion. I'm used to stumbling into my bedroom and almost hitting my head on the cabinet in order to pass out in bed. Ah, booze, I sure do miss the hobbies we shared.

Let's reminisce: Booze, you and I used to go out into the backyard at 5 o'clock with a cigarette and watch the November sun setting. You and I used to sit around the campfire and watch the moths get zapped. We would finish our time together and then crush cans or collect corks. Together, we would walk the neighborhood watching other people watch TV at night. Booze, remember when you and I would sit on the beach? You in your flask and me in my fleece. We would stare at the city beyond and dream about stars. Oh, booze. We did so much together. What romantic times we had!

And yes, booze, together you and I got up the courage to talk to boys. We got up the courage to sing karaoke and to stay up all night discussing philosophy in slurring tones. We would stumble together into the next bar, or through the field looking for a place to pee. Booze, we would share moments alone and with others. You stole my heart from the very beginning.

And now, you're gone. You've left me for another. Well, technically, I left you. I broke your heart, and now I'm gone. I'm seeing someone else. His name is God, and he says I shouldn't see you any more. You're only trouble. Oh, booze. What about the good times we had? Why couldn't they all be like that? Why did we have to fight so? I'm sorry, but I have to let you go. I miss you, but I'm not coming back.

"Since U Been Gone"

"Since you been gone, I can breathe for the first time. I'm so moving on...."

Thanks Kelly Clarkson for that. It just randomly came up on my iPod between Airborne Toxic Event and Johhny Cash. Random.

I really do feel I can breathe better without alcohol. Not like my lung function is better (it's sure not. That quitting smoking thing didn't take), but I feel like my life is lighter. Like the burden of control has been lifted off of me. All I have to do is follow the simple twelve suggestions of AA and I can be free of the pressure to drink. I can open up my life to the suggestion that there is something out there greater than me, and He (she/it/doorknob) can have the power in my life.

They say more, too, shall be revealed. I look forward to it. Like I've said before, I need to move on. I need to take all this damage and baggage and leave it at the train station. I need to arrive in my new life with less than I came into it with. All of the demons that haunt me can be dealt with now that I'm sober enough to recognize them, and now that I can't shove them back down with self-medication. I have the power to look deep into myself and make changes for the better.

See? I can even get sobriety out of an I hate you pop song.

But tonight I feel heavy. Not like fat heavy, though since I quit drinking I haven't really exercised at all... and I had been so good about running off all those extra calories in booze. Now I should be running off all those extra calories in cookies.

Ok, feeling heavy. Maybe it's the loneliness. Maybe it's the not sleeping (this seems to be like a once a week occurrence now). Maybe it's just being able to feel these feelings that makes me sad. Sad. Huh. Am I sad? What am I sad about? Maybe it's fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of waking up and still being here, in my dark apartment, alone. Not like I don't like being alone, but I know who I want to wake up with, and that makes me lonely knowing I could be with someone and I'm not.

Maybe I need roommates again. Just the sound of other people, the knowing there is someone else in the house. Nah. The people upstairs annoy me enough.

Sobriety calculator

Now I'm trolling the internet. Jesus, my life is boring. At least I have you people to complain to. Silent folks. I know you're there....

Check out this link: http://www.aahistory.com/days.html

It tells you how many days, hours, etc you've been sober, how many heartbeats you've had since then, and can tell you what day of the week you got sober. How cool!

I got sober on a Thursday, before Memorial Day weekend. I remember going to work that day, hungover, but feeling lighter than I had in years. I had made the decision to turn my life and will over to the care of Alcoholics Anonymous. I knew then that I was done getting wasted, blacking out, sleeping with random strangers, and waking up in places people shouldn't sleep. Sure, everyone has their fun drinking tales, and it sure seems like fun, but when you look back all you see is danger and stupidity. It's really not fun to black out. Honestly. You never know what you've done or said.

Thursday. I sat at work and looked up everything I could about AA. I found my local meeting group and noticed there was a noon meeting right around the corner from me. By this time it was one pm (I remember clearly) and so I promised myself I would go the next day. I sat at work reading all I could, and found the 12&12 and the Big Book online. I started with step one: I was powerless. I could no longer manage my own life. I needed help.

And now I have the fellowship of other drunks. People who know what I've been through, cause they've been there too. People who are struggling just as much as me, and using meetings and AA as their salvation. I need it now. I suppose addictive personalities need something to be addicted to. I'm glad it's sobriety.

Friday, Friday, what to do with you

On my way home from a meeting I passed by a bistro. In the window sat a man, book in hand, having a glass of red wine. Nostalgia hit me: that's what my Friday nights looked like. Me, a book, and a glass of wine.

I just recently came back from some time abroad, and spent the whole time drinking. I would have a bottle at home alone and then go out to dinner and have a few more glasses, or when I was in Austria it was beer. They have great wines in France, even in the liquor stores. Everything was tasty, but my loneliness followed. I sat in my apartment and made desperate phone calls to my parents just to get some human contact.

I do that a lot here in my apartment. I talk to my parents just to get some human contact on a Friday night. I used to drink while doing it, but I always felt uncomfortable reaching out to anyone but them. I knew they were up, and they loved hearing from me. No matter how I'll complain, my parents make good friends.

So now I'm sitting here in my house on a Friday night wondering what to do with myself. I feel like if I go out somewhere I'll be tempted to be that man in the window. I won't want to sit there with a diet Coke, I'll want that glass of wine. But I don't want to drink - I just miss that experience. I miss pretending to be a "grown up" and "looking cool."

What do sober people do on Friday nights after meetings are over and they have nothing left to do? Read, maybe. Call their sponsor. But I just saw her at the meeting and I know she's going home.

I feel like crying. I'm so damn lonely sometimes. I feel like there's no one, when I know there really are people out there. I know I could call someone, but I'm so afraid of reaching out. I worry that people are annoyed or have their own lives and don't need me. Like John said tonight, it's a pity party and I'm the host.

Ramble on, sister

I'm chatty today. I just feel like rambling, so I'll tell another story.

My mom is crazy. No, really. She's got borderline personality disorder, which basically means she can be a manipulative bitch and also a sad, lost little soul. I always took care of her, until I set some boundaries. And when I was little, she always too care of me. Now, we have a better relationship, but it was rocky there for a while. Let's see if I can think of something good.

I used to hide from her. There were spots I would go to when she was being cruel - just fighting with me, or saying mean things. I seem to have blocked out the substance, but I know I the emotions that are supposed to be there.

One day, my dad came home and found my mom just yelling up the stairs in my general direction. Who knows what she was yelling about, but my dad came upstairs to find me. "Anne?" he asked, looking around. I heard his footsteps enter my room and could see his shadow. He sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at the closet. "Anne, come out." "I can't." He giggled and asked why I was hiding in the closet. "I hate her," I replied. "Come on out now," he said, a little louder (not yelling, just trying to get me to come out). He pulled open the door and I was curled into a ball in the far corner, just sitting. "Come on."

My dad always tried to rescue me and reassure me by acting like it was no big deal. He didn't have to spend all day with her, so I know he didn't realize what it was really like to be in her path. So I hid, and he found me. Every time. And every time I was curled up as small as I could be.

Later in life, I dealt with this fear of mom's moods by drinking. Need to get away from mom? Go drink a bottle in the woods. Hide in the hall closet where the booze is. Stay away all night and smoke some weed. Oblivion will help. When you get home she won't say anything, cause you're invisible when your dad is around. She loved him so, I know that. She still does. And he loved her.

I would always try to get in between them when they hugged so I could be a part of it, too. I wanted love, and they freely gave it to each other. My dad hugged me when he got home from work, and read to me every night as a kid. I remember affection from my mom, too, but not well.

I was the invisible kid. I learned to walk in the dark and to not make any noise at all (which helped when I was older and snuck out a lot). I spied a lot on my parents because I knew which steps made noise, and which I could sit on without fear of being seen. I stayed invisible. I tried to go through life that way, but I'm a little outgoing now. But I often feel invisible. I feel like people can't see me, or take me for granted.

A reflection on his reflection

"With my life in God's care, fear, uncertainty, and anger are no longer my response to the portions of my life that I would rather not happen to me." - Daily Reflections, July 16.

Really Bill? You don't react in anger, fear, or uncertainty to situations anymore? I think that's bullshit. Your primal reactions are still those, but I think what he means is that they don't have to be the ruling emotions anymore. You can change how you react to things when you believe that God has your back.

Just wanted to comment on that. Was irked for a moment.

It's story time, kids

I apparently have a lot on my mind today, so I'm just going to keep writing till I can't think anymore. Oblivion by blog.

One summer my best friend Emily and I went to Atlantic City with her mom and aunt, and we spent the night gambling away in a casino. We ended up in a dive bar and were approached by two Mafia looking guys. They bought us some drinks, and then introduced the fact that they had a pound of coke they were looking to share. Awesome! So we hoped into their town car (complete with driver) and headed off the their yacht in the Trump marina. Yeah, I know, Mafia.

Emily went down below deck with one guy and (she says) talked all night. Me, being the addict I am, stayed above deck drinking with the other dude, and doing all the coke I could possibly snort. Like, really. I "woke up" sitting in the chair talking about God knows what, and looked to see that 2/3 of the coke was gone. I had apparently blacked out till sunrise.

Wait, why am I lying on my blog? Oh yeah, Adam, don't look. I woke up with the dude going down on me. I don't know how he got there, but thank God I didn't have sex with him.

I went below and got Emily, and she grabbed the rest of the coke on our way out. Then I fell off the boat onto the dock. My knee was bleeding, and I was laughing my ass off, but she didn't care. "We have to get back!" She was all worried that her mom would be mad, but I figured there was no use hurrying. Either they knew we didn't come home last night, or they'd know soon enough.

Anyway, we did the rest of the coke the next week. It's amazing I didn't have a heart attack that night, or overdose again. This was in college, and I wasn't on any medication then, so no drug interactions, but still. That would have been awful. I bet those guys would have just thrown my ass overboard and left. Another night I should have been dead or raped. Another night I was incredibly lucky. Or blessed, as it might be.

God smiles on fools and drunks

There's an old adage that God smiles on fools and drunks. God protects those who can't seem to protect themselves very well.

I have been really lucky in my life. I had a solid base until I was a tween. I had a loving family and a nice middle class existence. I had good schooling and opportunities galore. Despite my best attempts at complete oblivion and stupidity, I was never raped, beaten, in a car accident, killed anyone, injured anyone, or really done more than give myself some interesting scars and burns. I have the love of family and friends. I have someone for whom I am eternally grateful to have in my life. I have a job, and a roof over my head that I can afford to keep there. I've been very lucky.

We drunks and druggies seem to be able to slip through life unaltered until that big event where everything catches up to us. Sure, we all have those early moments that should have told us something was wrong (like my little overdose), but we never listened.

God smiled on us.

And then God laughed and put that one last obstacle in our path. Jail, loss of family, car accidents, or just a realization that enough is enough. And either we made a decision to stop the madness, or we sunk lower and lower, all the while with God watching to be there when we finally came to that decision.

Thank God I listened early. Thank God I will never have to feel the pain of jail or car accidents because I'm drunk or high. I won't have a coke induced heart attack (more on that later), I won't overdose in the yard ever again (unless it's my prescriptions), and I won't throw up in the bushes because I'm wasted (maybe one day if I'm ever pregnant I'll have that opportunity again).

I have been really lucky. God has smiled on me in my foolishness. Thanks big man.

It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to

I tell my stories without any emotion, says my therapist. I just tell them like they are: facts, and nothing but the facts. But for the first time, today, I told a story and really felt my resentments creeping in. I suppose maybe it has to do with being sober enough to recognize them as feelings. So let me tell you a story.

I was kicked out of high school. Yep, I'm the proud owner of a GED. Yeah me.

One night, I had some acid left over from a concert I'd been to. If you keep acid in a peanut butter jar in your dorm fridge a) no one thinks it's acid and b) it keeps fresh for a really long time. I gave my roommate one, and took the other. What I had forgotten was I had taken my lithium that morning, too. I usually didn't take it when I knew I was going to take drugs. Those things interact, you know! I was a smart drug abuser.

We went off to an art program where we were painting these gigantic art murals for use in a program the next day. It was two weeks till school ended. I had taken all finals except one, and passed with flying colors. Suddenly in the middle of coloring, I felt a little sick. I started to get the spins, and told my roomie we needed to get out of there and off to our outdoor sleepover for astronomy club (I'm a dork, too).

After leaving, I made her go solo into the dorm to get our stuff; I didn't think I could face the people in there; I was freaking out. I saw a friend, and quickly jumped into the backseat of her car. "Just tell me when Gena comes out," I said. As soon as she reported Gena's approach, I turned my head. I remember turning it ALL the way around like the kid in Poltergeist. And that's all I remember until I woke up on the ground with Heather sitting on me shaking my shoulders and crying.

I was barefoot in the lawn of my advisor, the Dean of Students. Uh oh.

"We thought you were dead!" Said the girls surrounding me. "You've spent the last half hour shaking, foaming at the mouth, and your eyes were rolling back in your head!" Wow, that must have been scary for them! A bunch of 18 year-olds watching their friend have an overdose. No wonder they looked for an adult. I don't blame them one bit in this: I would have gone for help, too. Just watching overdoses on TV make me think just how frightening that must have been.

At the hospital, I felt fine. Minus the not being able to go inside because of the bright lights. I sat on the cool pavement in hospital slippers awaiting my fate. In the middle of the night the Head of School had to come out and give me the bad news. "I have to kick you out, you know." she started. "I'm not going to call the police, but you have to stop trying to destroy yourself, Anne. You've got everything going for you." If I had had any feelings, I would have cried. In fact, just recounting it this time, I do feel like crying. It's sad, you know? She loved me. She really thought I could succeed and what did I do? I almost killed myself looking for a high.

Oh, and then my father showed up. He's the nicest man in history. His idea of a curse is golly. I'd never seen him mad in his life. Till that night. He kicked the construction wall at the hospital and didn't speak to me the two hours home, nor for the next few days.

All of these people reacted in perfectly acceptable ways. So why am I bitter? Someone who got kicked out for booze two weeks before me got her diploma later in the year. Why? Cause she had money. At least, that's what my resentment says. Scholarship kids don't get forgiven. I still talk to the Head of School and the Dean of Students, and they still love me, but I'm still mad, deep down. I want to petition them for a real diploma. I want to be a real graduate of my school. Not that a GED is bad, but I worked really hard for that degree, and I threw it all away.

And now, I can finally feel this pain. It hurts. Look how stupid I've been? Look at what danger I put myself in, and the situations I exposed young girls to. They never should have to see that kind of stuff. No one should have. I am so thankful I didn't end up in jail, and I should be thankful I'm alive. I am thankful. I think what I need is to acknowledge my pain over this, and cry it out. I need to feel it and let it go.

What's inside may scare you

I'm obviously still not doing anything at work.

"... I asked my sponsor, 'If saying the words doesn't turn my will and my life over to God, how do I do it?' He smiled and said, 'That's what Steps Four through Twelve are: the way to turn our whole lives - past, future, and present - over to God.'"
- A Hunger for Healing, p. 53

I think step three is about making peace. You make that decision, and make peace with your ego: you're not in charge, now let's take some actions guided by your higher power in order to keep that decision moving. Steps four through twelve are all about acting in the same way steps one through three are about thinking it through. You make decisions in the first steps. Yep, I'm not in control. Yep, something else is. Yep, I can ask him for help.

In step four you start to do, really DO, the steps. Making a fearless and thorough moral inventory of ourselves. Fearless, eh? Sometimes it's really scary to look at your defects. It takes a lot of courage to see what's really inside you and to not run away screaming. Someone today said step four was like wiping the fog off the mirror after your shower. You can see into the glass and your reflection shows just who you really are.

I did a little exercise in therapy once where we peeked inside my head looking for my inner self. I saw her, and I was so scared I had to jolt myself out of it and ask the therapist to stop. She was really frightening! It was like looking at a rabid and snarling child, dressed in rags and afraid of the sun. I never wanted to see her again, but now I know I have to. We have to face each other, and I can be afraid. I just have to do it.

I'm prepared to take this step. I'm excited, actually. I have no idea what character defects I'll find, and I know it's going to be scary, but I'm ready. I need to unload this baggage and prepare myself for the next step in my spiritual growth. It's time to move on.

Getting closer to your God

God, God, God. I know. This isn't a God blog, but it just seems like it lately. I'll try to complain about something else next. Or not be so damn positive.

A woman at the meeting this afternoon talked about how she moved to this area to be closer to her God. This area is beautiful - mountains and oceans and sunshine. There's lots to do year round outside, and wonderful cultural events all over the area. It really is a wonderful place to live.

When you look around, it's inspiring. God made all of this! (Or higher power, if you like.) These landscapes and creatures. One of my favorite sayings is, "And that's why God made ___." Like, "I need to stay awake. Well, that's why God made coffee." I use it liberally.

I'm so glad I came here. Sunshine is great for depression, and the moderate weather makes everyday an available day for doing something outdoors. There's never snow, not a lot of rain (to the dismay of the the reservoirs). It's just beautiful all the time. And God made it for all of us. He (she/it or as Cylindra says, doorknob) created this in order for us to have a sense of His being in our lives. So take advantage of it! Wherever you are it's summer (in the U.S.), so take a look around you and enjoy!

Offer it up

Forgive me if I've mentioned this before, but I was just thinking about it again.

So, I'm in the middle between step three and four, and I'm constantly turning my will over to God. I'm reading AA related materials daily, and having conversations with God all the time. I'm so glad I could do this, but I did have trouble in the beginning.

My background in Catholicism made for an interesting life. God is a central presence in my family, leading my father and my grandmother especially. They seem to have mastered the "turn it over" thing, and often told me to do so.

It pissed me off. All I wanted was some concrete examples of how to do it right. I wanted someone to tell me, "take this path." I just wanted some guidance, not some cop out like saying, "offer it up."

So when I got to AA and saw that the third step required me to give it over to God, I was kinda irked. A resentment against the program, I suppose. I don't want to go back to my childhood and fight against having no direction again!

But I realized, giving it up isn't about having NO direction, it's about not imposing your self-will on your direction. It's about letting something bigger than you into your soul and guiding you. It's that guidance I always wanted, and this whole time I could have been getting it from the God I've always known. Pretty incredible when you think about it.

Jesus, these character defects

Alcohol has gotten me in trouble more than once, but boy can I get myself into trouble.

I suppose one of my big character defects is pride. I think I'm hot shit. Well, sometimes. I vacillate wildly between thinking I'm smarter than everyone, and I'm an awful person. Let's start with thinking I'm better.

I had a job. A job that a recruiter found me, and allowed me to move to another state. A job that afforded me comfort in the form of being able to have an apartment, a car, and even get a dog. This job gave me financial stability.

But I thought it was lame. I was bored.

What was really happening was I thought I wasn't doing a very good job. I thought there was so much more I could be doing if only I knew how, but I couldn't, or wouldn't, learn. This was before Facebook, so God only knows what I did with my time, but I sure wasn't doing a lot of work.

My annual review came up, and my boss asked if I was happy. I said no. Dumbass. So she told me to leave. That day, right then and there. I was out of a job.

I wallowed in my self-hatred for four months, looking for jobs while drunk on the sofa. My boyfriend came home every night from his job and I got him to drink with me into the wee hours. Often long after he'd gone to bed I would still be up drinking and searching the internet for a new job.

In my self-loathing, I chose the first job out there, despite the incredible pay cut it presented. I didn't care - I just needed to be needed again. I was glad to have something, and I celebrated by not drinking during the week.

At my current job, I'm bored. It's so beneath me. Ha! What's really going on again is I'm not getting my work done. I'm letting the papers pile up because I don't believe I can do a good enough job on them. Even the easy stuff seems to baffle me. And here I am in this position again - I am scared of work. It intimidates me.

And that's all my pride talking. I'm too good, or too bad, for a job. It's above or beneath me. How do you handle pridefulness? Do you just make up your mind to try your hardest and not to give up because you're scared? Any thoughts?

If we were to live we had to be free of anger

I don't know if it's the meds or the therapy, but I'm getting over anger. I feel really peaceful lately, but I know there are things buried deep in my subconscious that make me crazy. I am angry, I know it, but it's just there so far in the chasm that I can't seem to reach it.

I know I'm angry at my parents. Who isn't? It seems so dumb to think that at this age I should still harbor resentments at the people who did their best to give me everything they could. They were only human, too, and my mom was especially human in her sickness. She couldn't help but hurt me.

Hurt. Yes, hurt and anger go hand in hand. I'm hurt, like a wounded little child. My parents tried to show me love in the only ways they knew how, but why is it never enough? They gave me shelter, comfort, food, and support. So they screwed up a bit in my latter years, so what? Why should that keep me from a happy existence?

Anger. I'm angry that they didn't seem to notice me. I went under the radar for years. My dad seems to remember everything, but at the time I think he thought that not showing interest in my problems would help me just get over them. That's why I hate when he said, "offer it up." He would just ask me to pass it on to God, when what I really needed was his help.

So let go and let God has a deeper meaning to me, and creates a little resentment. I've felt better letting God help me deal with my demons - letting him back into my life to show me the way out of my self-destructive ways - but like any wounded child I ask, "Why didn't you protect me? Why did I have to go through all that?"

Character building. God never gives you more than you can handle. And look what I did: I handled the blows given to me and came out an independent, strong, and wonderful human being. Thanks to his foresight, I was able to take care of myself in difficult times.

Character defects. Now some of those ways I've learned have become defective. They no longer save me from external situations, but keep me from growing. Tonight I'm taking a look at step four. Finding out what all those things are, and asking God to give me more insight.

Harder than liquor

Last night I finished my pack of cigarettes and said, out loud, "Ok, that's it." I usually have an easy time just putting them down and walking away for a while. I've done it for up to a year before, and then I get stressed and come back.

Well, damn do I want a cigarette. I think it's just the habit of having one on the way to a meeting in the middle of the day and not actually craving the nicotine. I like the habit of doing something while you're walking, the suck and blow (ha), watching the smoke move in the wind. Smoking is a whole experience.

My sponsor said it took her 5 years to quit after she got sober. A lot of folks have told me not to quit yet, but I'm kind of sick of it. It's expensive ($6 a pack!), it makes me smell bad, and it wastes my time.

So let's see how long I make it. My uncle said quitting cigarettes is harder than quitting heroin, which I doubt, but it's definitely tough. Maybe even harder than putting down the booze.

Wish me luck.

Humility humbles me.

AA talks a lot about humility. Humble yourself before your Higher Power. Gain humility in your dealings with others. Remove your selfishness and self-centered pride. But what does humility really mean? I don't know if I have any, since I don't think I understand the concept very well. Maybe you have this problem, too. I suppose like any good alcoholic, or any person, really, I'm far too concerned with myself to look outwards. So let's take a look at the word itself.

"Humility or humbleness is a quality of being courteously respectful of others. It is the opposite of aggressiveness, arrogance, boastfulness, and vanity. Rather than, "Me first," humility allows us to say, "No, you first, my friend." Humility is the quality that lets us go more than halfway to meet the needs and demands of others."

Huh. I don't know if I like that one. Let's try another.

"modest opinion or estimate of one's own importance, rank, etc."

Ah, that's more like it. A simple statement: right-sizing yourself and your problems. Each of us has a life story, and many of us have horrible things that have gone on in these stories. Much of it is what led us to drinking in the first place. But in the grand scheme of things, how important are our little lives and their petty problems? When we look outside of ourselves and count our blessings instead of losses, we can gain humility. When we ask our Higher Power for help, and even ask others for help, we gain humility.

Through the work in AA and with my therapist I'm going to start taking a good look at the problems in my life that have been preventing me from right-sizing my problems. I give too much credence to events that happened way in the past and let them rule my life. By taking a good look and then offering them to God, I'll have a better chance at living a life free of a high sense of my own struggles and gain humility.

Danger, Will Robinson

Today at a meeting we read one of the stories from the Big Book (pg. 468) about a Native American woman who turned to prostitution to pay for her alcohol addiction. She was eventually pistol-whipped and left for dead in a field.

I think this is something every woman can identify with. How many times have we used our wiles to get free beers out of men with no intention of ever talking to them again? How many times has a man gotten us drunk? How many times have you put yourself in dangerous situations just to get that next drink?

I know I have. I've lept into the arms of strangers to find that next fix. I've followed them to their homes and cars in the promise of another drink. I've given my body willingly in order to satisfy a quid-pro-quoit.

Here, I'll tell you a story: At this bar I used to hang out in in my hometown, a man walked in one night and pointed at me. "You, come with me," he said. in my drunken state I thought, "Well, he's hot, he's muscular, and he wants me." I literally jumped into his arms and he carried me outside to his car. I went home with him and let him do things a stranger shouldn't be able to do. Seriously, love should be given to those you love, not those you expect to pay you back in booze. We drank all night and into the next morning.

When we woke up, a snowstorm had blanketed the area so thickly that there was no escaping his apartment. I had to check his mail to find out his name. My phone died, my car was miles away, and I was trapped with this body builder.

Anything could have happened! No one knew where I was! There was no escape. I am so eternally lucky to have picked someone who didn't hurt me. I only hurt myself by continuing to drink to ward off the bad feelings welling inside me. Why did I always do this to myself? Why did I give myself without any thought to my pride and welfare? After three days I was able to get back to my car. Everyone was worried about me, and my friends were pissed. And you know what I did? I went back to the bar to drink more and repeat the saga over and over again.

What danger we put ourselves in. As women, we should be more careful. There are people out there who would do us harm (men too, I suppose). And why do we do it? Because we have no inhibitions with alcohol. Because it makes us stupid.

I am grateful I never have to do that again. I can give my love to the person I'm with, and only that person. I can share myself with someone I love. I never have to go back to hating myself so much that I could hand body over to just anyone.

It's amazing sometimes

This whole not drinking thing has had some great "consequences" in my life so far. My head is clearer, my body is better, sleep is deeper, and my meds work.

I think I mentioned before that I've got a dual diagnosis - alcoholic and mentally ill - and that I'm on medication. I have a habit of calling my doctor constantly and complaining. "I'm still depressed. I want to die, sort of. I hate myself." She would gently ask how much I was drinking and I would lie straight to her face (via phone most of the time). I would tell her a glass a night, and she would tell me that was too much. If only she had known it was more like a bottle a night.

And then something happened: I got sober. Amazingly, I feel great! My meds have taken over their rightful place in my brain chemistry, and I finally feel them working. I can sleep (most of the time), I feel happy, I don't hate myself really, and I do want to go about my day. I can't stop using this word, but it's amazing! Who knew I was actually on the right drugs?

I wonder how many times I could have been happy instead of demanding a med change. I wonder how long I've wasted thinking I was depressed all the time, only to find out it was the alcohol that was doing it, not my mental illness. I suppose sometimes you just have to find out the hard way.

Wow, God works fast

This morning I talked about not making changes in your first year. And then something amazing happened.

A recruiter just called me from a staffing firm and said she thinks I'd be good for this position in the city that would pay me between $67 and $80,000! That's a shit ton more than I'm making now. Like, by a lot. It's an officer position, which is where I want to move to in my career. I'm going to call her back and chat about it, and see what company it is with.

And then, a friend of mine forwarded a posting for a light-filled apartment in my town that has a backyard for my dog and big windows for me. Everyone says my apartment is depressing, dark, and cold, and has been trying to convince me to move out. The rent is more, but if I had a new job I wouldn't have to worry about it.

Is this God talking? I know you're not supposed to make changes, but if God hands you something, don't you have to grab on? Why say no to the gifts that God gives? I'm going to do a little exploring and see if any of this will happen, but really, I'm humbled by his aid.

Gators

Someone told a story at the meeting this afternoon that he had read in the paper. An Aussie was kicked out of a pub and in his drunkeness decided he wanted to ride an alligator. He climbed into an enclosure with this 1,800 pound beast, and jumped on it like a cowboy. It's not too hard to imagine what happened next - the alligator tore chunks out of his arms and legs. Instead of seeking help for his wounds, he stumbled back to the bar looking for the next drink.

That's what alcohol does. It temps you into riding the highs, and then chews you up and spits you out. You don't realize what happened until you end up in the hospital, or jail, or in your backyard having a spiritual experience. Alcohol is the gator that attacks you in your own mind and body.

We talked about humility today, and how being sober and admitting your powerlessness over alcohol is humbling. You are an alcoholic, and you can not manage to wrestle with the gator alone. You need the fellowship of AA and the steps to guide you through recovery. AA is the bandaid, the Neosporin that will heal those self-inflicted wounds.

So stop wrestling with that gator alone. Try walking away from the bar in the other direction and head for the hospital of AA. We have coffee.

A nice stressful beach vacation

My drunk ass cousin just offered me a week in Ft. Lauderdale on the beach, free room and board. So tempting, though I hate Florida. (It's an irrational hate, I know.) She said we could sit on the beach and drink pina coladas. No, I haven't told her I joined AA.

There are two problems with that. What do you do when you're sitting on the beach soaking up the rays and used to drinking a nice fruity alcoholic drink? Is it diet Coke time again? Do you just order the virgin drink? I bet a virgin bloody Mary is alright. An Arnold Palmer actually sounds really good right now. Something sweet and cold. So I could totally do it, though I'm totally not going. If I go anywhere it'll be to my home city so I can see my family and friends.

The other problem: I need to tell her I stopped drinking so she doesn't try to wine me up at Christmas. She is a pusher, and she and I always get stupid drunk together. It's how we bond. And what we do when we're too sober to share our feelings on things. Ah, family.

I told her son this morning. We call him Nancy Reagan, he's so sober. He's always been that way, probably because he watched his mom his whole life, and she's a major drink and drug abuser. Classy. He was really happy. He said now we just need to get Diane to do it. Which will never happen. Well, miracles can happen, just probably not with her. She'll drink herself to death one day.

So when to tell her. She's going to be pissed, and try to talk me out of it. She's the kind of person who can cut you to the quick in an instant. She knows where all the chinks in my armour are. I need to be careful. So I'll wait until I'm more sober. Till my program really kicks in and takes over my being. I'll wait till I'm strong enough to resist her persistence, and can stand up for myself. I may have to wait years for that one.

Thanks Bill

From As Bill Sees It, page 115:

"The essence of all growth is a willingness to change for the better and then an unremitting willingness to shoulder whatever responsibility this entails."

I have always had a willingness to change. I'm not someone who has to sit on something in order to make a decision. I see change, and I grab it. I can see the possibilities and look to the future. I saw a life in another state and reached out for that life line. I saw that becoming sober was the way to go, and I grabbed it. I take my punches and have no regrets.

This also has its downsides. As I think I've mentioned before, I have no patience. I want to change NOW. I can't wait for the glories and consequences of change - it's what makes life worth living. The excitement of something new and different. Perhaps I'm a little ADD.

This program is slowing me down. I'm listening to people and to my own Higher Power, and trying to relax. I should just title this blog "Relax, Damnit."

So when they tell you not to make any changes in the first year, I balked (thanks Adam, now I always think "Bawk" when they say it). No change? I can't quit my job, or move, or get into a relationship? Nope. Well then, what the hell am I supposed to do with myself?

I suppose a big part of my program will be learning how to be ok in the moment and enjoy the things I do have. I have a job, and that's awesome. I actually don't want to move, though everyone else hates my dark basement apartment. And relationships? Well, I can wait.

Let's all live in the moment together. Just breathe and appreciate all you have. It's still ok to dream about the future - what is faith without works, after all? You still have to build that house where God can live, so living in the moment doesn't mean you can avoid change or not think about the future. But for just this second, be grateful for all you have now.

I resent the fact that you suck

Sometimes you just can't help but develop resentments. My boss sucks. He's really smart, but he's totally an egotistical jerk. He will put down your work in a passing fashion, and say outright that if he did it it would be better - perfect, even.

So I had a four hour meeting with him this morning and totally developed a resentment. I took a look at it a minute ago, and realized what I was really worried about was my performance in his eyes, and scared that he thought I wasn't doing a good job. Fear. It all seems to come back to fear.

I have therapy tonight, and it's a good night for it. I've got to start making breakthroughs into what I'm really feeling inside. Everything is so blocked off that I can't help but stuff feelings down moments after I feel them. Fear is a scary one! I already lack confidence in myself, and that sure doesn't help.

What do you do about things like that? I know, I know, offer it up. So God, help me to feel better about things like feeling my feelings and not taking personally other people's opinions, even my boss' feelings about my work.

I love those crazy kids

Adam and I were walking along the boardwalk the other day, and this drunk, high as a kite guy looked at me and said, "You're gorgeous!"

Ok, so unsolicited compliments are fucking awesome. But it made me think. What kinds of things have I said when completely uninhibited by self control? What kind of hurtful or crazy things have I said when I was drunk or high? How do you go back and do amends when you were so drunk you blacked out?

I sure hope most of my comments were like his. I was always a happy drunk, until I blacked out, but then I only hated myself.

Hating yourself really sucks. Ever since I got sober I've loved myself a little more. My meds are finally working, and I'm happy, for once. I feel at peace in myself and with my decision to get sober. It may be one of the best decisions I've ever made. And now, I can make more decisions with a clear head and a higher power that will guide me.

My grandma is a genius.

My little old British grandmother sent me an awesome card today. I'm just going to repeat it verbatim and you can imagine it in the accent:

"It takes practise, practise, practise!!! However, once mastered it is oh so worth while to know that you are only the co-pilot. God is in charge of your life - then the burden of decisions is lifted. It works for me. I do not worry over bridges I may never have to cross."

She's a genius. Let go and let God, or as she always told me, offer it up. Let God into your life and let him take control. Know that all you have control over is your reaction to things, not the things themselves.

Life turns out the way it's supposed to, and you only get in the way when you try to control it. Relax, and let the world form around you.

This doesn't mean you are excused from making decisions or taking actions, but consultation with God and your inner soul make good sense. It never makes sense to sit in stasis. You have to move - you have to live. Life is too short to sit around waiting for things to come to you. God will present them, and you just have to make the decision to grab on for the ride.

Focus

How do you focus on yourself without being selfish?

Adam tells me I need to focus on myself a little. Pull out the sober and examine it. I know this is part of the steps that I need to do - take the next year to really focus on me and my feelings, needs, etc. And I can do that. With the help of my therapist and my sponsor, I can do that. I have supportive friends, family, and a new network of lovely sober people to lean on.

But how do you do that without being selfish? How do you stop worrying if others are ok all the time and ask yourself if you're ok? How do you stop in a situation and ask yourself if you are doing what is best for you? Adam calls it "doing the next right thing," when you take that step that is best for you.

So what's best for me? Getting away from my mom sure was the next right step. But what comes next? Where do I need to head now? When I think about it, I know that I need to work on getting better work. I need to work on being sober, and quitting smoking. I need to not drink so many damn diet Cokes, for crying out loud. But what about the bigger picture? Where am I going?

Feelings, nothing more than....

It's really strange when you realize you've never really felt a feeling before. You know, like FELT it. Not just thought, "Huh, I should be ____ ." But really felt it.

Being sober makes you feel everything. All of it. You can't drink it away or shove the bad feelings down with alcohol. Instead, you have to learn to deal with them as they come.

Feeling feelings is hard. There are so many of them, and a lot of them hurt. Love, fear, jealousy, pain, guilt, shame. All these things can come up in your daily living and yet nothing can block it out like the drugs and alcohol did.

So what do you do!? I suppose the answer is the rely on the steps and the help of my sponsor to get me through. Following the program and writing things down, talking about it in meetings, doing the steps. I think these are the things that will get me to a better place where I can feel the feelings and not have to be scared of them.