Free falling

Step three is a free fall, they say. "When we truly accept our powerlessness over life, we discover that there is only falling." Rami Shapiro, Recovery. You learn that hitting rock bottom is just breaking through the ego and learning that you're falling, and there is no bottom. You just have to trust that there is something out there bigger than you that's going to control your fall.

That's a scary thought. To be free falling through life. But I suppose it's pretty true. But through step three, "We are given a peaceful knowledge that we are alright and our lives will proceed as they should, if we just keep letting go." Marya Hornbacher, Sane.

Every day I work on letting go. I'm not sure if I like the free falling metaphor, but perhaps the walking blindly through life. You can touch and feel things around you, and respond to them, but what's leading you is that inner something, that feeling that you're going in the right direction.

So how do you give it up to your HP? By remaining powerless and, according to Marya, just doing the next right thing.

Unmanageable

Unmanageable. Life is unmanageable. But what is management?

To manage is to orchestrate something. "To continue to function, progress, or succeed, usually despite hardship or difficulty; get along." It's like the Big Book says, we try to be the director of the play of our lives. We take on the roles of scriptwriter, actor, manager. We believe that we have control over our lives, and that the things we do really can lead us to one thing or another, when we don't really have that option. We can do everything "right" and things can sometimes turn out in a different manner.

We have no control. Does this sound depressing? A little, maybe, but really, it's freeing. We don't have to control anything, because it's useless to try.

And this is where the freedom comes in. When we believe in a higher power, we can accept that it is in control, not us, so we can let go. We can stop stressing about the outcome of everything, because in the end, it's really not up to us. Instead, we can let go and be free.

Acceptance

Tathata is sort of the Buddhist equivalent to a higher power. Shapiro says in Recovery, "Tathata is the way things are at any given moment. Tathata is not static; it is changing, but changing at it's own pace."

Ahh, the pace of God. He does things slowly, or quickly, depending on your perspective of time. The promises of AA say that things may come to us quickly or slowly. We can not expect things to be done any other way. We have to come to grips with the fact that we are not in control. We are just waiting to hear from our higher power about what's happening, and then move to act on it.

We expect things to change instantly. I want a job, and I want it now. I want an apartment, and I want it now. You may want something to happen, and you want it last Thursday. But that's not the way life, or your higher power, works. We've got to wait, and not hurry up to wait like we do when we're racing through bumper to bumper traffic.

We need to accept things as they are at the moment. That's part of powerlessness. Acceptance. Probably the hardest thing to do. I know I'm having trouble with it. But once I do it, I feel free. I feel better. It's just a continual process of letting go.

Approved for all ages

There's a lovely girl in my womens meeting that joined AA when she was 16. She's got 8 years sober.

My sponsor just met a woman who is 84. She has one year sober.

It's never too late or too early to realize you have a problem with drinking, and work on solving it. You can be early in your career before you've lost everything, or you can be someone's grandma, just realizing that she has a problem, or just now willing to do something about it.

The nice part is, there are women in this program (and men) from all over the spectrum of age, race, religion, creed, whatever. Wherever you look, if you look, there's someone you can relate to on those levels, and always you can relate to people's stories. Sharing is the most important part of AA, because it brings people together and gives hope. One can see that there are others just like you, and they have found that happy place the promises suggest. They may still have a rocky time now and again, but just like life, AA isn't perfect.

To the newcomers

I know I'm still new, but I remember being really new. Being there in the room and saying: I'm an alcoholic. I wasn't sure I believed what I was saying. I mean, I believed I was an alcoholic, but I couldn't believe I was actually saying it to a room full of strangers.

There were a lot of newcomers in the meeting tonight, so we talked about the first three steps. They were pretty hard. Admitting you're powerless and insane is hard to do. "But I've been able to take just one drink..." you think. And then you think back on it. Could you, really? I sure couldn't. I had to take more than one, more than 10. I couldn't stop. That's powerlessness.

And it was driving me insane. I couldn't stop. I drank for grief, I drank for anger, I drank because the sun was up, because the sun was down, because I was off work, and I always wanted a beer at lunch, even during work. It's hard here, because there is alcohol everywhere. Every restaurant has a liquor license. There's wine at every store. There's all my haunts on every corner. I know going home won't solve that, my old haunts are there, too. It's just time that will make those places lose their powers.

Step three is still a challenge. Every day I have to tell myself: turn it over. It's not your decision. It's hard to do. All you want to do is take over the wheel, to be selfish. Someone said tonight, "I don't think much of myself, but I'm all I think about." It's so true. Alcoholics, and I think really everyone, is only concerned with themselves. People are inherently selfish, because we're all worried about our own role in the world. We worry what others think of us, what we look like, how we sound, etc.

And that's what AA can do: make you less selfish. AA helps you think of others, and stop pondering yourself all the time, but lets you think about your role in things and how to make yourself better. It's a nice combination of inward and outward reflection.

It's all about the We

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol....

We came to believe....

It's all about the we. We of the program. A few people have mentioned lately that it says We not I in all of the steps, and how profound that is. Even when they were writing the steps 75 years ago they recognized the importance of the group power. They saw just how important We was.

I love that. I couldn't do it without the people in this program, like my sponsor, my friends, and the other newcomers I see heading in the door. It's inspiring to know that others have these problems, and that I'm not alone. I'm not out there crazy by myself drinking myself into a stupor. I'm in a room with other people who have been there, and understand my willingness to do this program, even though I still have that desire to drown my sorrows in alcohol. And they are there for me through it all.

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.

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.

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.

Killing me softly

It's always amazing when you go to a meeting and hear someone telling your story. Tonight, I swear the speaker was reading my diary. Her life and drinking were just like mine. Always questioning, "Did I do something stupid last night? Who is this guy? Where's my car?"

She said she listed her "proof" that she was an alcoholic. Her list of stupid things and dangerous things that happened while or because of her drinking. I think that's what my sponsor told me to do when she asked me to describe how my life had become unmanageable. List off the insanity.

Well, here goes.

I blackout a lot and talk to people about God knows what, and probably tell secrets.
I drive drunk a lot, too.
I drunk dial people, mostly my parents, which is insane.
I bring home or go home with people I shouldn't and put myself and others into dangerous positions.
Sometimes I get into fights with people or break things.
I go to work hungover or still drunk.
I ignore my dog's need for a walk because I don't want to take my wine glass with me.
I lie.
I drink on my meds and then blame depression when they don't work.
I tried to kill myself.
I hurt other people.

And that's a life that is unmanageable.

Obsession grabs me sometimes.

We found that we were totally unable to be rid of the alcohol obsession
until we first admitted that we were powerless over it. -From Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions

Today at a step meeting we discussed step twelve. In the Twelve and Twelve they review the steps, and the first thing they said is the quote above. Rid of our OBSESSION. I am obsessed. I need that drink. I am thirsty for that next one. Once I start the thirst just multiplies and I need more, more, more. Thinking about my next drink was my obsession, whether I was on drink one or at work thinking about the party that night. Or thinking about relaxing after work - I'll just have one glass of wine. That one glass always turned into one bottle, hangover be damned.

We admitted we were powerless over this obsession. That's what the first step is all about. I've been struggling with it and mulling it over. Powerless. Completely powerless to not think about that first drink. To not crave.

I admit it. I am powerless. I can't stop myself. I can't control my own obsession with drinking and all the social shit that comes with it. I want it. I need it. I am powerless.

And that's step one.