Happiness is but a turn away

Happiness is just around the corner. It's just a matter of finding the right corner. -The Geography of Bliss

At what point in sobriety do you turn that corner? When you have a spiritual awakening? At the point you can give your will and life over to the care of God, as you understand him? After your fourth or ninth step?

I'm happier now, for sure. I don't have to drink, which makes my life so much easier and cheaper. I can sit here on my porch and listen to the band play in the park down the street and not have to have a drink in my hand, and that makes me happy.

But when will my life improve? Now. I can think clearer, I can focus better, I'm not having to sleep my life away. But I am bored. Drinking diet Coke isn't quite the same as having my old buddy wine next to me. It sure would make my posts more creative. But then again, they'd be more incomprehensible and probably spelled wrong.

So happiness is this corner. It's the corner I'm standing on now, the precipice of sobriety, and I've chosen the path towards the light.

Terminally unique

You are not unique. You may feel that way, but every alcoholic has been where you are. They've all lived the life of some sort. Alcoholics all over the world have had car crashes, DUI's, lost wives and families, lost jobs and friends, drank themselves into bad health, have problems with the families and friends they have left, landed in the gutter.

I have to remember that no matter what feelings I'm feeling right now, people out there have had them before. There have always been recovering alcoholics feeling withdrawal since the first person quit drinking. There have always been people with mental illness who have dealt with the steps. Lots of people quit smoking every year. I am not unique.

And so I'll go through this program and learn to laugh at myself and my situation. I'll learn that there is always someone out there to talk to who will understand. I am not alone.

Don't panic

"Agoraphobia is the fear of being in a situation where one might experience anxiety or panic."

I've had a lot of irrational fears lately, like going to the grocery store or changing at the gym. My dad says just walk it off, but he has no idea the threat of a panic attack. See, panic attacks are more than just feeling uncomfortable. They feel life threatening, like having a heart attack. Your head and heart begin to pound, you start sweating, and you get these irrational fears that you just can't escape in time.

A few years ago I was boarding an airplane and suddenly felt this dread coming on. The plane was going to crash. I knew it. I just knew in my heart that it was going to go down. I tried to talk myself out of it, and just boarded anyway. I was sitting right next to the door, and watched all the other people get on. And I started to sweat. Would these people be able to open the doors? Would we make it? What if we were stranded in the middle of nowhere? What if none of us survived!?

I was on my way home for Christmas, and really wanted to get there, but I just thought I couldn't do it. "I have to get off the plane," I told the stewardess. "Let me get you some water," she replied. As the door closed I couldn't breathe. I started crying uncontrollably, and I never cry. "Open the door, I have to get off!" "We can't open the door, we've already left the gate," she said. I sat there panicking and then remembered that I had my special sleeping meds with me. I popped a whole one, and within 15 minutes I was calmer and able to sleep the whole way. Needless to say, the plane made it.

That kind of panic attack rarely happens, but I do get that sense of dread sometimes. I feel them coming on, and have to think happy thoughts - get out of my head and not allow the thought to stay in my mind.

So I went to the grocery store today. I was a little nervous, but I made myself go. And guess what? Nothing happened. I was in and out in 15 minutes with all the food I need to survive. And I'm ok. I checked out the Commit lozenges for quitting smoking, but I'm not paying $42 for something that will last me less time than a $6 pack of smokes. So I bought some Halls and some carrots. I'm going to do this. I need to get lollipops, too. I can make it. And when I feel a panic attack coming on, I won't have to smoke. I can find better ways to deal. So let's hope now I'll make it to the gym on Monday.

Momma bear

My mom wants to move to my town. I know, I know, that might be a little crazy. But there are some good reasons. She can't really get around the area where she lives anymore because of either the heat or the snow. She is stuck in the house about 6 months out of the year.

She just called me for permission to look. "Tell me truthfully, I won't be mad: would it drive you crazy if I moved there?" You know, I had to think about it for a while. "As long as you're not dependent on me too much, I think I could handle it." See, I would want her around if I were to have kids. I would need her help; she's great with kids. And she's been fine and taking her meds for two years now. She and I have a really good relationship. She's acting like the mom I've always wanted her to be.

And I would have free dog-sitting without having to rely on my ex-boyfriend's mom.

I think it would be alright. Some people might not think so, like Adam and Emily (Emily HATES my mom), but I've created some pretty tough boundaries in the past 5 years. I would be able to hold on to those, and probably start Al-Anon just to keep myself on track. She stayed here while I was in Europe, and I trusted her with my car, my dog, and my apartment. It was a test, and she passed.

So we'll see what happens and how I deal with it. I would rather my dad move here, but mom and I will be fine. Adam, don't freak out.

Another smoking post - I'm really gonna do it this time

Alright, alright, I get it, God. I'll quit smoking. Jeez.

Before I quit drinking I had a few people tell me I drank a lot or should quit. Now, I have a bunch of people on my ass for smoking. So, I took the Kaiser Permanente online cessation quiz thingy. I set a date for Monday. I just need to be able to get around stressful situations and times when smoking is a habit, like when I walk to meetings. I just need to increase my exercise and buy lollipops while I'm at Costco this weekend.

I started smoking in high school. I never wanted to smoke - I thought it was nasty - but when my parents sent me to boarding school I was pissed off. Some girls and I snuck out one of the first nights I was there, and they showed me all the places the girls went at night. We wandered back behind the soccer field, and there was a group of girls smoking. "Want a cigarette?" Well, I had just smoked the joint that went around, so I figured I might as well. And that was the beginning of the end.

I learned at school how to remove a window screen, how to smoke in the bathroom without anyone knowing (turn on the shower, put a towel under the door, open the window, and have some Febreeze handy), where to go on campus, and how to buy cigarettes underage. I smoked from then on, even lighting my pot pipe with my cigarette to get both drugs at the same time.

In college I smoked a lot. I used it in place of medications, and plus, I hung out in a super smokey bar every night. All my friends smoked, too, so it was easy to just keep on pace with them.

I've quit before. I quit for a year one time. I didn't smoke more than a cigarette a week when I moved here, and sometimes one a month. But in times of stress, I can smoke up to half a pack a day.

None of my friends smoke anymore - the ones here or at home (except one, but she smokes a lot less than me). So it's time to jump on the bandwagon. It's going to be stressful, it's going to make me irritable, but hell, if I can quit drinking, then I can quit smoking.

My first time in AA

This is technically my first time in AA, but my second time attending meetings.

See, when I was 16 Emily had a drinking problem. No, not me (ha ha), but her. She and I would go out and smoke a lot of pot and drink with our buddies. Since we were in the suburbs, we would go sit under the highway overpass and try not to fall down the gravel into the ravine below. We would spend every day there after school.

I was a happy drunk/druggie. I would just sit around and smile at people, or try to get people to do fun things like rolling down hills and skipping. Emily was a bit more of a fight starter (theme in my friends, really). She would steal cars and get into tons of trouble. She ended up in a mental hospital, and they told her she should go to AA. So she went. And she loved it.

She immediately fell in with a new group of friends, and even got a tattoo on her chest of the AA logo. She had such a great time, that she would ask me to come to meetings with her. So I did. But....

I would get drunk or high, usually high, before hand. I would come into the meeting, get my coffee, and when they asked if anyone had 24 hours I would raise my hand. "Hi, I'm Anne," I would say. Everyone would clap, and sometimes I would get a 24-hour chip. I thought it was fucking hilarious. Emily never laughed. She took it a bit more seriously than I did.

I think I still have one of those chips somewhere.

I don't think I ever looked at the steps, or even listened to what they were saying. I learned the Serenity Prayer, and I'm sure I skimmed through the Big Book once or twice waiting for the meeting to be over. If only I had looked. Well, I suppose I wouldn't have seen anything.

Adam took me to a meeting once or twice early in his sobriety. He said he needed support, but I know better now. He wanted me to hear something I needed to. I remember sitting beside him listening to the speaker and wanting to cry. I don't remember what he said, but I remember his story being so touching.

I've had my run-ins with AA before. I'm happy to say I think it's sticking this time.

A special poem

When Adam was in jail for his DUI I gave him a poem. A copy of "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley that I learned in high school. I say it to myself sometimes to get me through. While Adam was here he showed me that he still has it. That meant a lot to me. My dad just quoted it and I think I'm going to try and remember it in my own recovery. It goes something like this:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

All in the family

Addiction runs in families, or at least, that's what I hear from pretty much everyone in the program. And oh boy, does it run in mine.

My grandfather was a drunk. A mean, nasty, abusive drunk. I never saw it (I smelled it), but he was always cruel to my grandmother. She admitted the other day to my dad that she noticed he had a problem shortly after they got married. She realized that he drank a lot, but after 4 kids they were too poor for him to afford much alcohol. Once the kids were older and he had a better job, he began to drink heavily again. My dad, being the oldest, took the brunt, and decided when he was 13 that he had to get out. He moved in with his grandparents in another country and finished school there. He moved back home after college for 4 months, only to find that it hadn't gotten any better. He chose to live in a friend's closet in DC rather than at home. My grandpa lost half his stomach to alcohol related problems, but my dad thinks he never quit until he was dead.

On my mom's side of the family, everyone except my grandparents either died from alcoholism or related complications. Her great uncle was a staple of Carmel, CA, always walking his dogs on Carmel beach, and the neighborhood dogs would follow him. They called him the St. Francis of Carmel. But he died a horrible alcohol related death. He was dying, tied down to his mattress in the hospital with the dt's, and managed to drag himself down the hall. He crawled to the nurses' station, lifted himself up and said, "Do you have a cigarette?" And then he died.

My grandparents on my mom's side drank, don't get me wrong. They had cocktail hour and tons of cocktail parties. They had to for his job. Apparently, my grandmother was an alcoholic while her husband was in Vietnam (and my uncle was there at the same time), but I don't have confirmation or any stories.

My great-grandmother was a drunk and a slut (hey, my mom used the word). She drank with Edward Westin, the famous photographer, and slept her way around Northern California in the 20's and 30's. So I come from a long line of self-destructive folks. It's no wonder. I'm sure many of them had undiagnosed mental illnesses as well.

I want to break that spell. I don't want my children to ever see me like that, or know me as an alcoholic, no matter how much of a happy drunk I was. I know your children eventually hear your stories, but I want them to remember me as being a good and sober person. And I will be. They're not born yet, so I have a chance. I can be the best person I can be before they're born, and continue to be there for them and myself.

I statements

My dad says it's obvious when I'm depressed because I start using only "I" statements, when I'm usually other focused.

He tends to say, "you just have to get over it," when I'm depressed or talking about being a, b, or c. I don't think he realizes that you can't just pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You need that higher power to get you through, that "other" that can lift you up. He has a higher power that gets him through a lot. He's really good about offering it all up to God and not sweating the little stuff.

I've started being honest with him about a lot. I told him tonight that I used to steal the little bottles out of the closet. He said they never noticed because neither of my parents drank. They only kept that stuff for guests, and they never had parties. I also talked to him about cutting. He remembers that. I know it worries him, and he always says, "snap out of it," but I know he's worried.

He thinks my cousin Rita is an alcoholic. He's noticed the way she drinks a lot when she comes to visit - she goes out with local friends and gets wasted, or got really drunk at a baseball game, slurring her words. I know she used to be anorexic (but I've seen her eat at family functions in the past few years - I watch her pretty close), and again, mental illnesses often have addictive properties. I think I'm going to give her a call and tell her what's going on with me. Adam says, you may be the only Big Book someone sees. We're not horribly close, but I know we love each other, and I've always been protective of her. She's really a great girl. Maybe that's my call for the morning.

Building a relationship

"The primary fact that we fail to recognize is our total inability to form a true partnership with another human being. Our egomania digs two disastrous pitfalls. Either we insist upon dominating the people we know, or we rely on them far too much." 12&12 pg. 53

My mother is severely mentally ill. She is in and out of mental hospitals, shelters, and the streets. Before my grandfather died, he set up a trust to pay for an apartment for her, which she keeps trying to leave, but my uncle won't let her.

I've always been her savior. I've gotten her on disability, saved her from mental hospitals and delivered her to shelters, I've taken custody of her at the airport after she's been kicked out of whole countries. I'm her caretaker. I dominate her life by doing all the things she can't do for herself, and in return I expect her to act like my mother and give me the love I need.

The day before I got sober, my cousin Diane said to me, "You'll never have a true partnership with another person until you fix the relationship you have with your mother." That hurt. I thought, "I have friends, life-long relationships. I have people in my life that I neither depend too much on, nor try to control. I have partnerships!"

But then again, I do let my relationship with my mom get in the way. I believe no one can love me completely, because any contact by others with my mom ends up hurting them. They see the complete destruction she causes, and it frightens them. What if I end up like her, I think they think. What if she causes all of Anne's attentions to be directed there? I worry that I can't form those true partnerships for fear of being too difficult to love.

Through this program, I will learn to create boundaries between my mother and myself. She's been pretty normal for the past two years, and the one time she showed up on my doorstep at 1:25am I drove her to the bus stop and sent her home. I created a boundary between us made up of all the "fly-over" states, mountains, and pastures. Now, I just have to build that emotional boundary where I won't worry when the other shoe is going to drop.

Lately she's been really depressed. She can't really walk anymore because of a messed up ankle. She's stuck in her house; she used to be really active. I'm afraid. I'm afraid she's going to try to kill herself and I won't be there to save her this time. It'll be too late, and I'll lose her before I even got her back.

I have to trust in this program to get me through something like that. The cool thing is, no matter what, I don't have to drink.

The cowardly lion

I have courage. I've always been the kind of person to look before I leap (bad), but have the courage to face things that come my way with dignity, my head held high.

–noun; the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.

Fear never seems to stand in my way once I make a decision to do something, or when things aren't going my way and I need to "fix" them. I've been through some hard times, and done so without fear. It's only after the fact that I experience that overwhelming sense of dread.

When I moved here, 3,000 miles away from home, I did so by simply packing up my car and driving. I didn't know anyone, but I had a job and a place to live. I made sure I was set up before I set out. I never thought it was brave until people started telling me so. But it was. I was able to start a new life without anything except my oriental carpet and some plants.

So now I face a new challenge in my life: I am going to go through this program, and I will do so like I face other things in my life; with courage. Courage doesn't mean you're not allowed to be afraid, but it means you move on anyway. So at this point when I'm feeling a little fearful of what these steps may hold, I can look inside myself and know that I have the power and the will to make it. I will continue, and I will survive.

PAWS

"People with emotional problems in early sobriety tend to over-react. When this overreaction puts more stress on our nervous systems than we can handle, we react by “shutting down” our emotions. We become emotionally numb, unable to feel anything. We may swing from one mood to another. These mood swings may baffle us, seeming to come without any reason, and may even be misdiagnosed as bipolar disorder." Post-Acute Withdrawal

This is why I'm not going to mess with my meds yet. It may be my mania acting up, it may be post-acute withdrawal. Who knows! It's hard to tell what's going on in an alcoholic-mentally ill mind. This dude says these symptoms can last from months to years, depending on how our bodies heal. I'm a pretty fast healer, so I'm hoping that it only takes a few months to figure it out. Then I can work on getting the right med cocktail in there.

Qualities

You can just ignore this one. It's more like a personal list. I like to have everything in one place.

Manic:
Bug-eyed look; cocky; talk fast; don't sleep; get obsessed; not hungry; chain smoke; fidgety; handwriting gets bad; feel annoying; talk to strangers more; eyes dilate; panic attacks; paranoia; can't concentrate; late to stuff (I'm never late); plan trips or moves

Depressed:
sleep a lot; eat a lot; isolate - bag out on plans; get homesick; irritable; suicidal

Addiction:
break obligations; start fights (push buttons); antagonize; promiscuous; exaggerated bad traits; (this is all besides the drunk driving and blackouts)

At least he doesn't think I'm a liar or self-centered. He thinks I'm pretty good at being right in the middle of those. It's nice to have someone else's perspective on yourself.

Figuring it all out

Michael just came over to fix my computer - the mouse stopped working - and we talked about sobriety. He's the one trying to do the moderation thing, and keeps asking me if I think he's an alcoholic. I told him to try quitting for 60 days, cause it's hard! He is considering the fact that he is. He's sure he's a "problem drinker."

We went out to dinner, and he took one look at me across the table and said, "Are you manic?" I suppose once someone knows you that well, they can tell. He said it's like I have a Devo hat on with a flashing light on top.

Michael and I used to live together, so I asked him what I'm like manic, depressed, and what some of my good and bad qualities are. He provided a really helpful list. I told him colors and lights are brighter and more vibrant, so we compared eyes in the mirror and mine are a lot more dilated. Explains a lot. He said I must not be completely manic, cause I don't have the "bug-eyed" look. I feel like my eyes are open really wide, but he said it's not that bad yet.

So now I have a good idea of what to look for, and not just guess how I'm feeling. I'm going to take the list to my therapist so she can look for the symptoms, too. It's nice to have other watchers out there. Sometimes I miss the signs.

Smoking is a self-medicator

"Those who inhaled tobacco smoke at least once a month, the researchers reported, were 10 times as likely as less frequent smokers to develop symptoms of nicotine dependence, including a strong desire to smoke, withdrawal symptoms, feeling addicted and having difficulty controlling their smoking." New York Times

The article quoted above talks about how easy it is to get addicted to smoking, and how damn hard it is to quit. They state the obvious: if you never start, you won't have to quit. Duh. But it also says that the longer you smoke, the worse the withdrawl is. It can cause depression, irritability, and more.

"The main exception, perhaps, may be people who suffer from depression, other mental ills, and substance abuse disorders. They are more likely to smoke and much less likely to quit because nicotine acts as a form of self-medication."

Right. It keeps you from being depressed by acting on your nerve receptors and releasing dopamine. Ah, good old self-medication.

I suppose you could apply this article to any type of addiction. It really does change your body chemistry, and the more and more frequently you use it, the harder it is to quit.

So I'm not quite ready to give it up yet. I think I need to get through quitting booze and drugs before I tackle that next addiction. Let's give it 6 months. By Christmas perhaps?

Everything is unmanageable

Every time I think my life is unmanageable right now, I have to remember that it was unmanageable before.

Sometimes, when I'm smoking, people stop me and say, "You know that'll kill you." And my reply is always, "Maybe that's the point."

Today the speaker at my meeting said when he relapsed, that first drink, he knew he died a little inside. And that's what I have to remember. I was killing myself. I wanted to die, and I was trying my damnedest to do it. I was drinking more than I needed to, and taking medication that messes with your liver as well. I was taking other people's prescriptions and snorting coke whenever I could get my hands on it. I wanted to die.

So now, when I think the feelings are too much, and I just want to kill them again with booze and drugs, I have to remember that I was just killing myself. I need to develop that will to live a clean and sober life. I need to love myself enough to remain in this program.

I hope alcohol is done with me. I'm done with it.

How it works

"Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely." How It Works, Alcoholics Anonymous

I went to two meetings yesterday, and at each meeting I was asked to read How It Works. I figure there must be something in there that was supposed to speak to me. Was it the steps? Was it letting go absolutely? I'm having real trouble with letting go ABSOLUTELY. I can let go of certain situations, but absolutely? Let go of my will and my life over to the care of God, as I understand him? But we claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection. I don't have to get it all right just now; I have to have a willingness to do it, and that's all.

But holding on to my old ideas. What does that mean? Does it mean I think my life won't change? I haven't seen it change much yet, except for the feelings, but I know it's coming. Will I start to hang out more with my AA friends than with my other friends? Will I become more judgmental of people who drink? Will I ever stop smoking?

What are my old ideas: that alcohol was a cure for feelings; that you could run away; that everything was just going to be fine as long as I was in control. I have to realize I'm not in control, and I never was. I have to let something bigger than me have the power to lead my life. I have to learn to turn it over to God, and to trust. Ah, trust. I have to learn to trust something and people. I only half trust folks, and never really with myself absolutely. Amazingly, there is one person I trust with it all, but I hate the feeling of vulnerability that comes with it. I'm not good at being open and vulnerable. I'm always waiting to be hurt, because my experience shows it always comes.

Perhaps that's another idea I have to let go of. I have to trust people with myself and show my vulnerability. I called my sponsor last night and asked for help. I think that's a big step in the right direction.

"The Third Step does not say, "We turned our will and our lives over to the care of God". It says, 'We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him'." NA, Chapter 4

I can make a decision. I can make this decision to trust.

Sobriety is a roller coaster

A friend of mine just texted: "Hang in there. I've been told sobriety is a roller coaster." Boy is it! Feelings, numbness, feelings. I've been up and down, and up and down.

I don't like this downward trend at all. I hate feeling depressed. I like the mania of feeling good and looking into all the ways I can change my life. I like being optimistic. I'm an optimistic person at heart. People at meetings keep telling me I'm so bubbly and cute. Someone yesterday told me there's no way I'm 30, which is nice to hear. I like that I look young. "You're fucking gorgeous!" as the boys on the boardwalk say. I have to keep remembering that right now. Inside and out, I'm a gorgeous person. I have a lot of good qualities. I can't overlook that.

It's only been 56 days

It's only been 56 days. I can't believe it. I once thought, "Oh, if I ever get pregnant it will be so easy to stop drinking. I'll just put the bottle down." I had no idea that even 56 days would be hard.

Giving up an emotional crutch is hard. When you drink, or when I drink, I use it to tap down the emotions I feel, especially guilt, pain, and fear. Now, I've got all those things in spades. (Where does that saying come from?)

I've got a special prescription I take when I'm feeling extra crazy. It's a lot like booze, in that it makes you feel pretty numb. I've been taking it the last two days, because it helps me sleep as well. Yesterday I was sure I was having a panic attack on the way to work. Do you ever think, "My God, I'm driving a huge vehicle down a road at 65 miles an hour? Something could go horribly wrong!" My heart starts to pound and I can't breathe. So I take my meds and that feeling goes away. But it makes me numb.

I can't feel anything right now, which is good, and bad. I think I was getting used to being able to identify my feelings. It's nice to know how you're feeling. So maybe I'll just stop taking the numb-er and let myself feel crazy.

Women and frozen yogurt

I love being in the company of other sober women. Not that men don't get it, but at women's meetings we cry, we laugh, and we pass out hugs like it's nobody's business.

Tonight I went to one of my favorite meetings and spoke up: "It's not fun anymore," I said, and everyone laughed knowingly. "I'm feeling things and just want to hole up in my dark, cold apartment. I took an hour long shower before I got here, and just sat there with my head on my knees. I asked God for help, and he said, 'Hey, what time is it?' I told myself if I had 15 minutes then I would go to the meeting. I was hoping it was 6, but I got out of the shower and it was 5:45. Damn. So here I am, feeling my feelings, and relying on you ladies. I'm asking for help."

And you know what? I got it. I got a lot of, "Hang in there. It's hard - especially the first year." These women have all been where I am, and they know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And the best news is, I don't have to drink. I can go through this sober, and get a better understanding of myself. They also gave me permission to eat ice cream and be irritable, which I love.

So I went and got frozen yogurt - red velvet cake with chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles - and sat in the window of the shop listening to King of the Hill and watching traffic roll by. The world is still moving on. Everything is going according to His plan. I just have to trust that it will get better.

Another day, another bottle

I'm working on being grateful today. I really am grateful that I don't have to drink anymore. It wreaked havoc on my life and made me more depressed than I needed to be. Today, I can go home and not have a bottle of wine instead of dinner - I can eat dinner instead. Today, I can walk right past the liquor store. Today, I can save $23 and stick that last dollar in the basket for AA.

My first drunk. I really don't remember it. I do remember that my parents had liquor in the hall closet near the bathroom. It was up on the top shelf above the coats, and sometimes I would stand on a pile of clothes just to see what was up there. I remember taking some of them down, and I remember opening up the Frangelico. Oh! The smell. It wasn't pleasant, but I distinctly remember the taste of it going down. They were those little bottles you get on airplanes. I finished it.

I remember reaching for the vodka and liking the smell. I took it upstairs with me and would sip on it while doing my homework. I liked the way it burned going down, and how strange it made me feel. It was warm, and funny tasting, but I just kept drinking it. I was probably 10.

Later on, I would take my mom's vodka out of the freezer and add it to my orange juice. I was in my teens by then, but I always loved the taste of vodka. I went to Russia once, and finished two bottles of vodka on my own one night. Honestly, it's a miracle I don't have cirrhosis. Someone today said that coffee cleans the alcohol out of your liver, so hard core coffee drinkers (according to a study by Kaiser) have cleaner livers than other alcoholics. Thank God for that addiction.

I've always been a drinker, and I'll always be an alcoholic. But today, like Cliff says, by the grace of God, I haven't found it necessary to take a drink. One day at a time.

Crazy for feeling so blue

As you can tell, I like song lyrics as post titles.

At my meeting this afternoon a woman was there who I see at all my meetings. She's sweet as can be, and talks a lot about her struggles with addiction and schizophrenia. She helps me remember that we can do this even with mental illness, as long as we are capable of being honest with ourselves.

I've been having vivid dreams lately about not taking my meds. Every mentally ill person I've ever met has said, "The meds change me. They make me another person. If I stop taking them, I'll be me again." Everyone thinks this way, and it's silly. Of course you're a different person; you're not as sick as you were! But that doesn't stop me from thinking it myself sometimes.

Sometimes I think I should just stop taking them and start all over again. Let myself get crazy and prove that I need to take meds. Sometimes you just feel you need proof. Since I'm not drinking anymore, am I really bipolar or was it just the addiction? I have to remember that the booze was just a symptom of a bigger problem: my spiritual shallowness and my disease. Sometimes I just want to know that again. Sometimes I just need that proof of illness.

And sometimes I think I should stop taking them just so I can be hospitalized. I really think that would be good - take a month and just sit in a safe place and work on myself. Work through these issues under the care of someone other than my higher power and my therapist. Sometimes I think I need more help than I'm capable of getting on the outside. My therapist said if it starts to feel too bad that I do have that option. I never thought I would think it, but it's starting to look good. A respite from the pressures weighing on me.

But I'm too proud. I don't want to ask for that kind of help unless it gets really bad, and I'm not there yet. I'm still sane; I'm not psychotic; I'm only rapid-cycling this week. And I'm taking my meds. I'm being good, and I'll continue to be good. I have never had a problem with med compliance and I'm not about to start now.

Relax, don't do it

"Lighten up while you still can, don't even try to understand. Just find a place to make your stand, and take it easy." - The Eagles

So we're back to the theme of relaxing. Adam reminded me last night to take it easy on myself. "More will be revealed. You don't have to figure it all out right now." Easy to say, not so easy to do.

I'm a perfectionist. I like to accomplish things, and do them right the first time. Since I'm impatient as well, I often screw things up and have to redo them. And then I get frustrated and angry with myself.

I've sailed through the first 3 steps, thinking, "I got this, man. I've got a God. I'm accepting of my disease and it's control over me. I can give it up to Him and let go." But according to all my posts, I'm still having trouble handing it over. I'm having trouble living by the moment. I can do it, most of the time, but I'm still trying to be in control.

I need to learn how to just relax. I need to learn to let go of control, and slow down those buzzing bees in my brain. It's all going to be ok. We will be relieved of emotional insecurity; amazed before we are halfway through. Let's hope so.

Emotion words

How the hell am I feeling? I told Adam I was feeling crazy and he told me not to use that word. That telling myself I'm crazy probably doesn't help. So how the hell am I feeling?

A list of emotion words.

Agitated. Anxious. Nervous. Helpless. Depressed. Yep, crazy. I don't associate crazy with bad things. I guess I just always use it as my adjective. But let's see how using other words helps as I begin to be able to identify my feelings.

I'm so used to stuffing them down with substances. As they're coming up, I'm... feeling. And I don't like them, and I want them to go away, but I've realized I don't even know what they are!

Today at work my boss told me he didn't like the cartoony thing I designed for our big event. Ok, so my designer did it, but I gave her direction. I think it's beautiful and showcases the thoughts we talked about going into the project. But he hates it. I was angry at first, and now I feel humiliated. Huh. I Feel. I feel embarrassed. I just wanted him to be pleased, and now I feel like I can't do anything right in his eyes, though he said he thinks I got the concept. So it wasn't a total loss. I'm going to go back to work tomorrow and work on it again, and hope that I can create something that will be acceptable without needing to put my hopes into it. It is just a project, not a reflection of my character.

Wait! This is it: Post acute withdrawl is totally how I'm feeling.

I feel pretty

I'm messing with the background and template. Tell me if you love it or hate it. Is the blue hard to read? Feedback here, people, feedback!

The sky is falling!

I'm out of diet Coke and I'm not dressed to go to the store! I'm sitting here in pjs (I know it's only 8:30, but I have no life) and am staring at the last diet Coke just sitting there on the floor. It's calling my name (and so is the the Cadbury egg in the fridge), but it's the only one left (don't worry, I have more Cadbury eggs)! What the hell am I going to do with myself once I finish that one?

You know what should concern me more? The fact that I haven't bought groceries since before Adam was here. If there were a natural disaster and I were stuck in my house for a week I'd starve. As of today, I've been subsisting on cereal, wheat milk, tortillas, sliced cheese, and peanut butter. I've made amazing combination's from these things to create full meals, and spiced them up with some frozen vegetables. At least I have salt, too. That goes well with everything.

It didn't worry me ten minutes ago when I ran out of frozen vegetables, but now that I'm out of diet Coke I'm starting to worry. Who cares about eating, what the hell will I drink! Water?!? NOOOO!!!! I need something sweet and addicting. I need to placate my need for booze with something that attacks a different organ.

I suppose it's time to go to the store. Maybe I'll get some food, too.

Will I ever dance again?

My friend Doug and I like to go out and get drunk. Big surprise, right? But Doug is my gay boyfriend. I'm his wingman. He never picks anyone up, cause he's too much of a wuss, and uses me as an excuse to meet men, and then to leave them because he's got to escort my drunk-ass home.

Back when Doug and I used to work together, we would go out every night to our favorite dive, get super cheap drunk, eat really bad happy hour food (Doug didn't eat because it wasn't The Palm, but Cassie and I sure did!), and then hit up a gay bar.

I love gay bars. Or lesbian bars, for that matter. I can flirt and make out with guys and never worry that they really want to take me home. Gay men love to kiss straight girls. I don't know why, but I always end up making out with some hot guy and then he leaves with his partner. I love it.

Doug came out here once to visit his "aunts" in the south, and I went with. We wandered around town in their neighbors' convertible, drank all day, and hung out with the "aunts" at night. We used their old lady hospital beds as race cars and raced the leg and back lifts all night. We dressed up in their old lady nighties and drank by the pool. We drank, and drank, and drank. That's what Doug and I do.

Luckily for my liver, he's only been out here 3 times since I moved here. All three times have been DRUNKEN, (wait, maybe 4. 4) and full of drama. He's a queen if I've ever met one. Last time, we went wine tasting all day with Angie (and found the most wonderful handicap porta-potty with a real sink and oriental carpets). We ended up with Angie's boyfriend Jack in a bar next to my house. We were all drunkenly carousing until he picked a fight and stomped off the block to my house. I ignored him, and found out the next day that he had gone to the airport to stay at the Westin. I didn't even know he was gone, cause I don't think I came home till early in the morning, and was probably happy to have the bed to myself again.

I told him I quit drinking and he quit texting. Then he texted me a drunken hello the other day, and I haven't known how to answer. Our relationship is built on alcohol and lack of sex, and now he's dating someone and I'm sober. I wonder if he'll come out for orphan Thanksgiving again? I wonder what he'll say when he gets drunk, cause he will, and I'm still not drinking? I bet he won't come out anymore. It's sad to think of losing friends, but I suppose this is what they mean when they say nothing will change except your whole life.

Co-dependent no more

Me: "I never get co-dependency. Don’t we all depend on others all the time? No man is an island, mon."

D: "Yeah, that’s healthy inter-dependency. Co-dependency is when you need other people to listen to you to make you feel right/good. Then, when they don’t, you feel bad."

Yeah, I get it now. Is that why I always have to ask people stuff before I make decisions? I'm not just indecisive, I'm codependent?

Wait! In my mania I am an incredible decision maker. I don't even think before I leap. In my normal state I am a careful planner, and in my depression I'm codependent. So what am I in my addiction? I suppose it leans towards the mania side, but I make dumber decisions.

At least I know one character trait, decision-making skills, that I can now separate out between my moods. I know who I really am - I'm a careful planner. I like spreadsheets. If I don't have a spreadsheet, I don't know what I'm doing. If I don't have a spreadsheet on it, I'm either a)manic and will never have a spreadsheet or b) depressed and not planning on doing anything.

Wow, that wasn't so painful.

F.E.A.R.

I love this. I've heard the first version before, but never the second:

Fear: Fuck everything and run.

Or

Fear: Face everything and recover.

I'm on version one. I'm trying to run. Well, I'm not. My sponsor says bring your body and your mind will follow. My body is hitting two meetings a day and walking on the other side of the street when I see a bar or a liquor store. My body is drinking diet Coke and taking its meds on time. My body had cookies for lunch.

My brain is screaming: "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING!? RUN!!!"

I'm feeling a little crazy right now. I'm kinda moving moment by moment between really high and really low. It's called rapid cycling, which who knows if that's what it really is, but let's go with it for the sake of the post. So I'm up one minute - mind racing, can't think, can't eat, want to smoke like a mad woman. I feel like my skin is crawling and my eyes are the size of dinner plates. I see trails (like when you're on acid) behind moving things like vehicles. The lights in my office are WAY too bright, and all the colors are vibrant.

Then all of a sudden I feel like I need to crawl under my desk and ball my little eyes out. I feel like San Francisco when the fog comes crawling up over the Richmond district and envelops the rest of the City slowly but surely. I feel like I'm the Financial District; watching it come for me and not being able to do anything because I'm fixed in place like a 20-story building.

Yep. Manic-depression is fun. Good times. So this has been my day. I woke up in the fog, rolled around in crazy, slipped into crazy with tears, and now I'm just confused. I think I'm going to go home, take a sleeping pill, and sleep till tomorrow morning. If I sleep, it'll all go away, right?

Steps from crazy

Another website I love is Crazy Meds. These guys are really funny, and give you the rundown of each medication prescribed for crazy, what the side effects are, etc. This guy cracks me up. I always check out my meds here before I start taking them, just so I know what to expect. And it's always weight gain.

I just noticed today that he also has a twelve step link, which is "Walking Away from Mania in Twelve Easy Steps." Again, hilarious, but helpful. I'll give you some of it:

"Step 1: Come to accept that the bipolar diagnosis is correct and that in our manic periods we have made a right mess of things.

Step 2: Come to believe that a power greater than ourselves can and will restore us to sanity. Indeed. Pharmaceutical companies, psychiatric research, clinical studies, doctors and therapists getting together and exchanging notes on what works and what doesn't, potent molecules where 0.25mg of Risperdal can have so much impact on my life, those are all way more powerful than I am.

Step 3: Make a decision to turn our lives over to the care of medical science.

Step 4: Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Dude, this is the decade of the blog. Aren't we all doing this already? Yeah, well dig a little deeper. Just how much of a jerk were you when manic? .... So meditate on all the sexual betrayals, the people you treated like dirt in your manic arrogance because you were king shit, and the lives made extra sucky by ruined credit histories."

Ahhh, yes. He also says don't dwell on this step when depressed, which would mean I'd never get around to it. But it is good to identify the times in my life where I was manic, and the people I've hurt during those episodes.

But how do I separate out what was mania, what was addiction, and where I'm just an asshole? What's my true character and what's the illness(es)?

Misery is optional

Kevin was brilliant today. I've heard him speak before, but never his story. Besides being a great drunk, he's a genius. He said some things that I'm going to save for later posts, but the best part was:

"Pain is part of the recovery process. Misery is optional."

That's just what I needed today. Here I am, making myself miserable thinking about my life, and he tells me I really don't have to be that way. And then I was talking with a friend who said, you don't really have control, just influence. You can influence your life by taking your meds, and staying sober, and dealing with your issues. Influence.

So many smart people around me today. So, as I look back on my life and try to find where I've wronged or "been wronged" and write out my resentments, I can realize that I can influence the outcome of this process and not be miserable doing it. Sure, it may hurt like hell, but I don't have to hate myself. I can be objective. It's not an exercise in self-torture, it's an exercise in self-knowledge.

Who are you, do, do, do do

The Big Book describes the alcoholic as someone who is trying to put on the whole play by themselves. They are the actors, the musicians, the set designers, and the lighting crew. Alcoholics try to control every aspect of their lives, and most of the time, fail miserably. So some of the materials suggest you ask yourself what roles you're trying to play. What are the false characters you put on in this play? Are these working for you?

We all act like different people in different situations. Some of us are the black sheep in our families, and the good girl in relationships. Some of us are the strong, silent friend to some, and the blubbering mess to others. We choose who we're going to be based on the needs and expectations of the people around us.

But who are we, really? Who is deep down in there under the masks and costumes?

I think this is what the fourth step tries to root out. Who are you? What makes up your character in totality, not just in these different situations. Are you really the strong one, or are you a combination of that and the blubberer?

So it's the age old question: Who am I?

Therapizing

"Alcoholics and addicts, time after time, would rather get loaded again than have to face some inner truths. The freedom from self is made impossible by holding on to fears and secrets we've harbored all our lives, the way of strength, paradoxically, is in becoming vulnerable."

So I've been in therapy since I was 15. That's 15 years of weekly (minus my college years and some bits and pieces here and there) that I've had to pay someone to open up to. And have I done it? Not really.

My first therapist was kinda famous. His name was Joe Novello, and he is the brother of Guido Sarducci, the Saturday Night Live dude. Novello was great - smart, handsome (not that that matters in a therapist), and well-versed in child psychology. He would have had some wonderful things to say had I felt like talking, or even listened. I remember clearly we talked about my jeans one time and where I got them. That was pretty much like all the sessions. I talked about some stuff, but never got very deep.

I saw a few people in college; mostly counselors from the university cause I was too broke and didn't have health insurance. One of them tried to put me on Zyprexa, which I think is like a horse tranquilizer, and would have cost me $97 for a month. I never saw him again.

After my suicide attempt, I went to this nice lady named Joan. She was new-agey and into brain waves and such. She would meditate with me sometimes, which I found oddly helpful and still unnerving. I have trouble being quiet sometimes. I need to twitch. But we talked about my mom, and all my troubles from being a kid - the ones I could remember. We talked about the attempt and all the people it harmed. I got a little better; enough that I had the mental energy to take on a cross-country move.

After a few years of living here I finally got around to getting a therapist. I like her a lot (and I'm not just saying that cause she has this link). She does the meditation thing too, but only if I'm in the mood for it. I feel like she's listening, you know? And she gives good advice.

I think I'm finally in a place where I can actually start to look at the things inside myself, and make myself vulnerable. Ohhh, that just gave me chills. Maybe vulnerable isn't the right word for me. How about: more open. Over the years, therapy has introduced me to the idea of opening up, and I've opened up by telling my stories. Now, I have to keep working in order to FEEL my stories, and then actually deal with them. Looks like I'll be in therapy for a while.

Helpful websites

There's this website I've been reading that's really helpful. I keep quoting from it. It's 12Step.org.They have quotes from a number of books and things about this work. They go through the steps one by one and help you better understand just where you're going with them. Hope it helps you like it's helped me!

Also, there's one with worksheets for steps: Steps by the Big Book. I'm using the inventory worksheet from step 4, and reading what they suggest. My sponsor has a worksheet she developed off of this stuff.

Also from 12Step.org is the Big Book online. Good for reading at work or when you don't have it handy.

Another I like is the PDF of the 12&12.

I'll add more as I find them helpful.

What's the difference?

Fate: the will or principle or determining cause by which things in general are believed to come to be as they are or events to happen as they do.

Destiny: a predetermined course of events often held to be an irresistible power or agency

Turning it over to God: believing that a power greater than yourself is in control.

I believe in fate and destiny. I also believe in God. I believe I can turn things over to the care of God, as I understand him. So what's the difference? My therapist asked me this this afternoon, and I'm not sure I know, yet.

Ok, so "the hand of destiny" is believing that something is bigger than you and is in control. The Fates are mythical beings in control of your life. Then there's God. All of these things are bigger than you, and are in control where you are not.

From a new age blog: "The Bible has the wonderful passage in Ecclesiastes 1-5, where it states; there is a time in our lives to build up, and to knock down, to be born to marry and to die. In other words every thing happens for a reason, and also when it happens."

Right. Things happen on God's time and not yours. It's your destiny, fate, His will. I don't think I get the difference, if there is one....

Something lighter

So, this blog is getting depressing today. I thought I'd tell a bad joke:

What do you get when you combine an elephant and a rhino?


(wait for it)




Eliphino. (Said like hell if I know)

Works better out loud.

And the bubble has burst

I want to drink today. It's not that I've had a particularly trying day, or anything, but I'm sick of feeling my feelings. I'm sick of having to get in touch with myself and feel what's really going on inside.

I was listening to the Stones on the way home, and they played one of my favorite songs: Paint It Black. "Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts. It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black."

Again, it's a pity party and I'm the host. You just have to sit through it.

I told my therapist today that sometimes I think about hurting myself. Sometimes I think, "what if the razor slipped and I cut myself shaving? Just a little blood." Sometimes I think that there is an old European God living inside me who will only be placated by blood. Or I think that maybe I could just take a lot of my pills. Not enough to really kill me, but enough. Maybe I could just drink and make all this pain disappear.

But I won't. The little pink cloud of happy that you live in in early sobriety has definitely burst. Now, there are little bubbles of feelings that float into my mind and burst, only to reappear. I was telling my therapist that I fear they're all going to turn into one gigantic bubble and it's going to overwhelm me. I'm going to just go crazy. I don't have the option of shutting off my feelings anymore - I have to be present with them.

So again, I'm asking for help. God? I need you right now.

Hey, thanks for sending the dog over to lick my face. Dog love helps.

Stuffing it down

Feelings suck. My friend is going through a divorce and some other crap, and she's chosen to stuff down her feelings in the shape of a hamburger. Of course, I am easily persuaded to avoid my emotions by eating. So hamburgers it was.

I joined Weight Watchers (again) last year and was able to moderate my eating (too bad you can't do an abstinence program, but I suppose some people do and die, so that would suck). I love food. I love to eat food. I never really know when I'm full. I am also of the belief that everyone has two stomachs - one for food and one for sweets. I like to think that way so I don't have to "save room" for dessert. I can just stuff it into my other stomach. Anyway, I was able to lose 40 pounds.

Now, I fear (fear again!) that I'm just going to replace all the calories from booze with bad for me food (I think I'm going to go get a milkshake after this post). Especially if I quit smoking. Food will be my only crutch left - my only addiction.

I'm basically an addictive person, and an obsessive one. I get hooked onto something and then never let it go. Or I quit for a while and come back. I was super obsessed with running, too, until I had to take a break cause I over trained. When I was a kid I totally expected to be a heroin addict one day. I knew then that my addictive personality would get me.

But I'm going to keep running, and keep on Weight Watchers, and hope that I can control myself. Maybe through my inventory I'll be able to discover what character defects make me so unhappy that I have to feed myself with my addictions; whether that's food, booze, cigarettes, or something else.

Crossing your moral boundaries

I'm a cheater. I've cheated on all my boyfriends save one. You know who it is. I've also been the other woman in a relationship. This is one amends I won't make, because I'll only hurt them both, but I feel like I need to talk about this moral boundary crossing, because it's on my mind.

After Adam and I broke up, I was depressed. All endings to relationships are depressing, but ours was particularly heartbreaking. We loved each other so much, but in order for him to turn over that new leaf, I had to leave. That's a whole nother story.

So I went and did something awful which hurt me and two other people: I slept with a married man. It started as innocently as it could: we were working together on projects. He trusted me to do things right, and to listen to his direction.

By the time we got back to the office it was on. We flirted and ended up making out in his boss' office one night after everyone else had left. Since he was married, I invited him back to my house. He came over a lot after that, and my poor roommates knew everything. They were a part of my deceptions.

This went on all summer. I felt awful about myself, and punished myself by continuing the relationship. I knew it could only be hurting her, and that she most likely knew.

I am a disgusting person. This kind of behavior went, and goes, against all of my moral fiber. But I didn't care. I was depressed (no excuse) and causing myself pain. And in the process, I hurt someone who didn't deserve it. Eventually, my conscious caught up with me and I ended it.

I am a cheat, a liar, and an adulterer. It feels good to admit that. I need to change. I haven't done that in a long time, but I need to admit to myself, my HP, and another person the exact nature of my wrongs. I need to ask God's forgiveness and move on from it. And I will.

Turning over a new leaf

"As we approach this step, most of us are afraid that there is a monster inside us that, if released, will destroy us. This fear can cause us to put off our inventory or may even prevent us from taking this crucial step at all. We have found that fear is lack of faith, and we have found a loving, personal God to whom we can turn. We no longer need to be afraid." - Narcotics Anonymous, Chapter 4

I'm sure afraid there's a monster inside. I'm afraid to let it out, even on paper. I know I share a lot with you guys, and I have been looking pretty deep into my own character in the past two months. I know there's a lot in there that is scary and really messed up. Some say step four is looking at where we've crossed our moral boundaries.

Growing up Catholic, I had a lot of moral boundaries. I wasn't going to have sex before marriage. I always swore I would treat people as I wanted to be treated. I would follow the golden rule. And I've broken all of those things. I've done people harm, explicitly and implicitly. I gossip, I cheat, I lie. These things are hard to admit.

So I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I admit these things, with an open mind and heart, that they'll destroy me. I'll see how bad of a person I really am, and my self-pity will take over. I'll destroy the fragile ego I have now.

I'm excited for step four, though. I want to, well, need to, know these things. You can't fix something you don't know is wrong. And I need to fix these things. I need to become a better person: a more loving and kind person. And hopefully, my God can do that for me. God can release me from my pain and help me turn over a new leaf.

Are you there God? It's me, Anne

Step three. I am entirely willing. I keep figuring it out again and again, which is part of the step, really. I need to turn everything over. It's all out of my control, and it's all out of control. I can't make my addiction go away by just not drinking. I can't make my mental illness go away by just taking my meds. I can't remove my character defects by myself. So again, I'm asking for help.

God? You out there tonight?

Please help lift this mad obsession from me. Not that I feel like drinking right now, but I know that the compulsion will come back. I know it's out there, and it will find me.

Please help me to stay sane no matter what happens. I know my bones are marked with the signs of illness, I know it deep in my core, but I know that you can help me be a better person and not let my insanity take over.

I have this irrational fear. I fear that if I give it up to God, my insanity, that is, that I'll lose my mind. If I stop trying to control myself and my mind, I'll lose it. I think they'll have to lock me up somewhere. I've been controlling it for as long as I can remember. I talk myself out of crazy things. I try to notice when I'm getting too down or too up, and I ask for med changes as appropriate. I also self-medicate with booze and cigarettes to keep my chemistry incredibly fucked up.

So I need this Higher Power to help me. I need to stay sober in order for my meds to work, and I need to stay sane in order to stay sober. God? Help?

Why hasn't he called?

Ok, so by now you have probably figured out that I'm in love with Adam. It's kind of a duh. We're best friends, we used to date, and I still think he's perfect for me. He's not perfect, by any meaning of the word, but he's perfect for me.

Since before he came out here, we've been talking nightly, whether by text, GChat, or real phone. We go through phases where we talk all the time, and where we talk maybe twice a week. And we've been talking everyday, sometimes a couple times a day, for almost a month now.

And I haven't heard from him today. That makes me sad. I know, he has his own life, and I should totally occupy myself with something other than the computer (I am reading a very funny Chelsea Handler book about one night stands), but for some reason tonight it's bugging me. I think he's trying to "disengage." See, he knows I love him. He knows I think we're soul mates, and I think I scare him sometimes. I am a little intense.

He's just getting over someone else, and he needs time to work through that. I get it. I don't want a relationship right now anyway, and he lives 3,000 miles away. But I was getting so used to sharing my night with him and having him make me laugh. I find him utterly hilarious, which I did even before I loved him, so I know it's not just that. I guess I just am a little worried that we're into that trend again where we only talk every now and again. I would really miss him. Above all, he really is my best friend, and he gives great advice, or just tells great stories.

I really liked having him here. If he lived here, I think we would have a blast all the time. I loved hanging out with him, and in the past when we hung out almost every day I never got sick of him. I even drove to another state (in the tri-state area) to sleep next to him whenever he wasn't in my state. I miss him.

Adam, don't run away. I know you're confused and in pain, but... But I don't know. Maybe he does have to deal with things on his own. Maybe he needs to grieve and then move on without me "helping." I may just complicate the deal, and I would never want to cause him harm. I just hope he knows I'll be here when he gets back.

Ask for help

Ok, so one other person had something to say. Kathy said, "All you have to do to be successful in this program is admit that you don't know, and ask for help."

Wow. Those are two of the hardest things to do. No one likes to admit that they don't know. I lie all the time and make up answers to stuff. I often admit I'm just making it up, but I can't seem to come out and say I don't know. It's just easier for me to sound smart for a minute.

And asking for help. Whew! That one is rough. I suppose that's what we all did when we came to AA. Help me, I'm powerless. And that's what I'm doing every day with every person I talk to in AA. I'm asking for help. I need their guidance to work the steps and to stay sober. I need help. I need help. Wow. That's a hard blow to the ego. I suppose that's where humility starts - asking for help.

I asked for help once. I knew when I was young that I was crazy. Normal kids didn't have their own exacto knife for cutting themselves and drawing on their walls with blood. I knew that it was weird for me to completely isolate and to sometimes sleep in the bathtub with my comforter because I was too depressed to even sleep in my bed. Sometimes I slept under it, just to feel safe.

I asked my mom to take me to a psychiatrist. She made me a deal: gynocologist first, then psychiatrist. She knew I'd been having sex, and she wanted me to get checked out. I acquiesced. I finally got to the therapist (not psychiatrist) and told her all my problems. I laid it out on the table: sometimes I broke stuff just to see if I would hurt myself. I put my hand through windows more times than I care to admit. I would smash the recycling bin contents on the driveway and sweep it up with my hands. I like glass for self-destruction. She asked to see my parents.

And then, she became their marriage therapist and I went back to dealing on my own. I never saw her again. My dad still thinks she's the shit, cause apparently she's a better marriage therapist than a child therapist. I didn't ask for help again. But then, I was kinda forced back into therapy when my Head of School noticed just how fucked up I was. Thank God someone noticed.

I'm not too proud to ask for help, it just never goes anywhere and I seem to only annoy the people I ask. At least, I think I annoy them. So I need to right size myself. I need to realize that I am not shit, I can ask for help. Help me.

Wow, that meeting was lame

I just came back from the lamest meeting. The dude who was running it was mean! He kept saying, to the silent room, "This is your meeting, people." It was obvious everyone just wanted to get out of there, but this guy wasn't budging until everyone talked.

So they talked. And boy, was it lame. I know that's no nice of me, but really. One guy mumbled for 5 minutes, and I still have no idea what he said. Another guy did what I can't stand. He opened with, "My name is Chris and by the grace of God I am today a recovered alcoholic." Now, Adam always tells me he runs screaming from anyone who says they are recovered. It's recovering. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.

Then Chris proceeded to talk. About nothing. He went on and on, and really, I looked for the substance and the relation to AA, but there was nothing there. Oh! And my favorite was Hector. He said that since he came into the program he's come to a spiritual awakening: he can only have one beer a day. He was really proud of the fact that he had come to this realization, and kept telling us to keep coming back, cause it works.

And Sebastian. Boy, that's an angry kid. Two other people shared about their time being dragged into psychiatric hospitals, which I have no problem with, but man that's depressing for a meeting that's already really depressing.

The only person who had anything meaningful to say was the new kid. He's been sober three days (I saw him at his first meeting on Friday, and every meeting I've been to since). He actually stuck to the topic of humility (which I have none of tonight). He went out with his friends and they didn't drink in front of him because he asked them not to, even though they don't know he's in AA. He was humbled. It was amazing to see that it's already working with him.

So that's my bitchy rant for the night. Sorry, had to get it out!

Willingness

Really, I'm on step three, but just thinking a lot about where I've been thus far. But today, I'm thinking about step three again. A willingness to turn our will and our lives over to a higher power. Our WILL. What happened to free will? According to Wikipedia (which is always right), "Free will is the purported ability of agents to make choices free from constraints."

Free from constraints. Constraints like God's will for us. Constraints like what's the next right thing for us. If we give away our right to free will, what do we have left? Now do we have to just listen to what something else is telling us to do? Isn't that what we rebelled against our parents for? Haven't we always been trying to live our own lives on our own terms?

And how's that working for you? Sure as hell wasn't working for me.

I think turning your will over is more like stopping and listening first, and then making decisions based on good facts and advice, rather than impulsivity or addiction. You know your addiction talks to you. It tells you to have that next drink, to go buy a pack of cigarettes, that it's ok to cook bacon at 2am. Your illness has control over you. And that's what we did in step one, was to let go of that controlling substance. Now, we have to let go of the idea that WE are in control, and that only we can do it right.

Bacon makes me happy

"Picture step one as the moment when you open your hands and let all the deceptions, denial, and shame, and fear drop to the ground. And then walk away." Sane, Marya Hornbacher.

I really like this. Admitting complete defeat and powerlessness over our lives doesn't mean we are out of control, like our mental illness has taken over again. It just means accepting that the way we're doing it isn't working. It's taking all those things and letting them go, and then walking away.

Another thing she mentions is that we have to be free of the denial that no one noticed our sadness, fear, and complete dependence. I always, and still do, think that no one notices me. Again, I'm invisible Anne. No one can tell just how horribly depressed I've been. No one knows when I'm so out of my mind manic that I can't think straight. No one sees my addiction.

And I know I'm wrong. My dad calls me on it a lot. "You sound down." he'll say. He says he can always hear it in my voice. And yesterday, Adam called me on my mania. "Are you manic? Are you taking this new toy of sobriety and letting it make you crazy?" Again, my mom thinks it's all the caffeine I've been ingesting, and the lack of downers in booze.

People do notice. One time, I was up at 2am, drunk, and had this incredible urge to cook bacon. I made my boyfriend go get a pound of bacon, and then I proceeded to burn most of it because I just wanted to watch it curl. That's my mania. I cook bacon. I get obsessed with something and ride it to the very end.

I might be a bit manic right now: I'm talking a little quickly, I can't focus, and I'm doing a million things at once. But I'm not taking sobriety to the edge. I'm trying to move slowly, to develop patience with it. That's why I'm going back to step one for a moment. I want to get back to the point of admitting that I'm powerless, and also applying it to my illness. I have no control over the fact that I'm ill - I always will be no matter what I do about it. The thing is, I do have control over how I react to my addiction and my illness. I can do the next right thing, which is going to a meeting and following the steps.

Everything in moderation

A friend of mine is trying the moderation plan. Apparently, they have meetings too, though he hasn't been to one yet.

Their premise is do no harm: to yourself, or to others. Don't drink and drive. Don't put yourself in dangerous situations. Don't drink when you're angry. Try to cut back a little.

We talked about it on our run today (yes, I run and smoke). And then he told me how drunk he got on Thursday. He showed me the bump on his head and the bruises, but has no recollection of getting them, or getting home. Not exactly moderation.

I believe in this abstinence system. My whole problem with alcohol was that I couldn't self moderate. I couldn't just have ONE drink, I had to have 20. I used to drink with him, and we had 4 bottle Fridays and weekends where my recycle bin would fill to the brim. He's not so great at moderation, either. He also talked about only drinking whiskey, or only drinking wine.

In the Big Book they talk about how a lot of us tried this system, and maybe it worked for a while, but it always failed eventually. I'm thankful for the steps and the fellowship in AA, which seem to make it possible for me to be on day 52. I don't think moderation works for alcoholics, but I'll keep you posted on his progress.

The seventh tradition

Since it's July, we focused on the seventh tradition at my home group this morning. AA will be self-supporting, it says.

I work in fundraising. In the beginning, I thought, "Hooray! My skills can be contributed to something that's giving so much back to me. I can actually do something for service!" And then I realized that self-supporting meant like the church - everybody gives what they can to the collection, and so we pay rent and coffee costs. We support the organization itself. AA will not be allied with any sect, denomination, or run by a sponsoring corporation.

Some this morning talked about while they were alcoholics they couldn't be self-supporting, always asking for contributions from others. I realized today that I have to ask AA to be supporting of my spiritual self until I can be self-supporting. AA gives you that boost: they like you till you can like yourself.

So the seventh tradition, to me, has more to do with the group supporting others in their growth and step work. We are self-supporting through our own contributions to the group conscious. I like that.

I have got to stop drinking so much caffeine

I feel a little weird, and I think it's a combo of the caffeine overdose that's happening in my system and the not drinking. Usually, I have my buddy alcohol to depress my nervous system and keep me low. Nice and low and depressed.

I've been super depressed for months now. Maybe even a year or two. Nothing big happened, just was feeling like I'm a shit and maybe I should do something about it. When I was a kid I was a cutter. I used to take a serrated edge knife to my wrists and press. It would make little holes, which I would then cover with Neosporin and move along my way. I used to sit up on the kitchen counter and do this. I remember it from my first memories: I was probably 8 when I started.

In high school I used to tear apart Coke cans with my fingers till my fingertips bled and I had scars. My teachers used to freak out, cause I did it in class, but no one ever suggested therapy or anything. I eventually quit doing it when I started doing drugs instead. I just moved one self-destructive behavior for another.

One night after a particularly hard night of drinking when I was 23, I cut again. That's a whole nother post. So the past year I've been thinking about it. What if I just accidentally cut myself shaving? What if I drop something and have to clean it up? Nothing concrete, just conjecture. But I hurt myself and others so badly last time that I was too scared to take action.

So now that I don't have that depression acting on me through booze, I don't feel like that anymore. I feel up, instead, which as a manic-depressive can be just as dangerous. I can't sleep. I'm writing so much, and still managing to read two books and three magazines, and GChat with Adam. Multi-tasking to the extreme.

My mom thinks it's the caffeine and not the illness. So let's all cut back on the caffeine for a bit and see what happens. Water here I come!