Friday, March 15, 2013
Admiration
I don't post a lot anymore. Partly because I'm busy and also because I'm in a good place. This blog was a tremendous help to me in early sobriety, and I still peek in at other blogs and garnish knowledge and wisdom from them but find the need for me to ramble to be less and less. However I recently came accross something that I felt like sharing.
What a joy it is to sober up and be present in one's life. I would have missed out on a lot if I would have kept drinking down the path I was headed on. My oldest son Alex was very instrmental in my early recovery. A freshman in high school at the time and active in the winter sport Curling. He made sure that he was home every night in time for me to head to a meeting. Since my husband wasn't exactly talking to me at this time it was wonderful to share my 30 day chip, my 3 month chip, my 6 month chip with someone who was so supportive. Thank goodness my other two children were small enough where they didn't really remember why mom was going to meetings every night. Now they love to look at my AA medallions and they know I still go to meetings but its just everyday life to them.
A few weeks ago I was getting a scholarship ready to mail that Alex had filled out. I came across the essay and started reading. He talked about feeling dumb and inferior to his classmates because he struggled in school. He shared openly how relieved he was when at age 12 he was finally diagnosed with Dyslexia. Then he went on to talk about how he had to learn how to believe in himself. He would be the one to make the change. No amont of tutoring, or extra homework help could make him achieve what he wanted. It had to come from inside. He talked about his jr. high grades and that by the end of his junior year in high school he couldn't believe the amount of change he had facilitated in himself.
When he registered for his freshman year he was told to take an easy math course, that he could opt for sign language instead of foreign language and that he should request extra time on tests. He said these recommendations seemed too easy to take advantage of so he selected a math course much higher, and German I, and didn't ask for extra time on tests. He wanted to see what he was capable of not what other people expected of him. Now just a little over two months from graduation I am happy to report the following: He has been on the honor roll consecutive times, he lettered and medalled academically, he is a member of the National Honor Society, the Interact Club, a Safe School Ambassador, he works at the GAP, has been accepted to an excellent private liberal arts college, received a merit and art scholarship towards his tuition and has completed four years of math, science, foreign language, did very well on his ACT's, never asked for a minute of extra time and will graduate with 12 college credits. This was his journey. My husband and I only encouraged, but he took the reigns and he did this. He didn't just talk the talk, he walked the walk.
He in many ways is my inspiration. To go from a C/D grade average to A's is such an accomplishment! He will be the first to tell you, "I'm not exactly naturally smart but I'm determined and very hard working." This in turn keeps me determined and very hard working. When I was a year into sobriety he started to really change. You could see there were definate things he wanted to do and he started to achieve them. I can't take credit for anything that he has done but I do think when he saw that I would be ok, that I had a program and people to help me stay sober he felt secure and strong enough to stop worrying about me and to take care of himself.
He makes me a better person, he makes me want to keep on being sober for years to come. I know that my husband and I have been very blessed with our three beautiful children and I am so glad that I have been sober through almost all of his high school years. What a gift to be able to watch someone grow, and shine. So thank you Alex, you are an inspiration to me, to never let anything stand in my way. That there really is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow....
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Happy Birthday to me....
Today is my actual birthday. 44 years old. But today marks an even more important day, my sober birthday. It allows me to only be 3 years old. 1096 days ago, I drank my last drink. Vodka and diet coke. I have no idea why I drank that particular blend, I was always a wine drinker, or a fun martini. I guess if I think about it it does have some signifigance in the fact that it reflected where I was in my alcoholism: bored.
Pain and boredom lead to sobriety. No one quits drinking when they are having fun. I knew I was no longer having fun three months before I entered AA. It had just become a necessity. A necessity to get through the day, the problems, the life. I remember thinking on more than one occasion before I sobered up ,"there has to be something better than this." And there was, and is, and there will continue to be.
I had lunch with some friends. Lots of laughter and banter. As I left to run some errands I began reflecting on the past three years. So bare with me as a take a look back on the last three years...
The first year was a roller coaster of emotions. High, low, medium, happy, sad, laughing, crying, etc. What a ride. I was so busy peeling back the onion layer after layer that I felt like I was living in a wind tunnel. So much to learn, so much to fix, so much to remember. Thank God that I had the sponsor I did. A no nonsense gal who took my hand and walked with me every way through the 12 steps. It is a year I will never forget. My "baby" year in so many ways.
My second year was one of challenge. My sponsor told me it was time to fly and I didn't want to leave the nest. I was terrified. What if I couldn't put all these tools and steps into place. It took me a bit to stand on my own two feet and to feel that I was ok on my own. Many things happened in my life during this year. Things that I would have drank over if I hadn't been sober. I somehow made it through them and never took a drop. This was my "learning to walk" year.
My third year. A year of grace. Grace from God, grace from life, grace from the program. This is the year I learned to breath. I finally put the stick down that I had been carrying for the last two years. I didn't need it anymore. I have learned one of the basic lessons of life: to be kind to myself. I'm good just the way I am. Not that I don't have faults that need work, an ego that needs to be kept in line, and a lot of learning to do. I just no longer feel that I have to micromanage everything. I have over thought, over talked, over analyzed in vain and for what? So now I cut myself some slack. I don't skimp on my program, I enjoy it. This is my "learning to run" year.
So what's next? A high school graduation for our oldest, then off to college three hours away. More time with our youngest as they move through junior high and onto high school. Time to garden, time to write poetry. Time to cook, time to laugh, time to cry, time to live life. A friend recently said, "we are all sick, hurting, and need to be taken care of". I am so happy that I can take care of those around me and myself. So no matter what lies ahead, it will be welcomed. Happy or sad, its my life. One that I never thought would be this good.
I need to give a shout to my sober anniversary sista "Sober Julie" over at Sober Julie Doing Life. She is awesome. It is such an honor to share sober anniversaries. She inspires so many people every day with her story, her joy, her happiness. She inspires me and I am humbled to be her blogger friend.
So now I will leave you with one of my favorite Anne Lamott quotes :"I do not understand the mystery of grace-- only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us" and I am so grateful that it found me. Blessings and love to all of you, and now I know there's a chocolate cake somewhere with my name on it......
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sometimes life is so not what you expect....
I haven't blogged in a while. I find the longer I'm sober the more time I spend living. Last week I sent a random text to my sponsor asking how she was surviving the frigid temps we were having and she immediately called my cell phone. Our friend A had died the night before. He drank himself to death.
A was one of the first people I met in AA. He had walked through the doors eight months before me. I remember him coming up to me at the end of my second meeting because I had said something that he could relate to. I had told the story of how when I took the recyclables out I would deposit one or two empty liquor bottles in my neighbors bins to I wouldn't look like such a lush. Turns out he did the same. A friendship was born. We would always say "hey neighbor" because we lived on the same street. I often saw him outside with his two beloved dogs when the kids and I would go bike riding. We always waved and exchanged a few words. I knew he was going through a divorce and that he had lost his job but he was always upbeat and so grateful that he was in recovery.
Last spring the divorce was finalized and thus began the unraveling of A. He fell off the wagon and ended up in rehab. He was fighting to come back. I would give him a ride home once in a while after a meeting and the last time we sat and talked I noticed the sparkle or light in his eyes was gone. His posture signified his defeat.
Last Monday night he went home and started a party for one and never came back.
Its funny how little you know about people. His obituary told a story that I knew nothing about. He was a successful business man, a president of a lumber company. Father of three grown children, active in boy scouts, even received the "order of the arrow" from them. He hunted, fished, golfed, skiied, and lived a rich full life. My friend D and I attended his wake yesterday. He was cremated but there were so many beautiful picture boards and memorabilia that it took a long time to take it all in. So many happy having fun pictures. Laughing and loving life. This is an A I never knew. He was in fact quite humble about his life.
The last time I saw him was two weeks ago at a Saturday meeting. He was slunk deep in his chair, unshaven, large black circles but still managed a heaty "hey neighbor" greeting. Now I won't have the privilege of hearing that again. He has left an empty space around the table.
Afterwards a bunch of us talked about our loss. We asked how other people were doing that we hadn't seen in a while. Many are back out there hoping to cheat death one more time. For my friend A there wasn't one more time. There won't be another time for others either.
I'm not sure what makes people go back out again. Life is too much, or staying sober is too difficult, or they've just given up and want to give in. It's heartbreaking. A was only 56. A lot of living still left to do. So as I'm approaching my third sober anniversary I am reminded that the disease is one small drink away. It makes me shudder to think that its always that close. Good bye A, may you find the peace you were so desperately searching for......
A was one of the first people I met in AA. He had walked through the doors eight months before me. I remember him coming up to me at the end of my second meeting because I had said something that he could relate to. I had told the story of how when I took the recyclables out I would deposit one or two empty liquor bottles in my neighbors bins to I wouldn't look like such a lush. Turns out he did the same. A friendship was born. We would always say "hey neighbor" because we lived on the same street. I often saw him outside with his two beloved dogs when the kids and I would go bike riding. We always waved and exchanged a few words. I knew he was going through a divorce and that he had lost his job but he was always upbeat and so grateful that he was in recovery.
Last spring the divorce was finalized and thus began the unraveling of A. He fell off the wagon and ended up in rehab. He was fighting to come back. I would give him a ride home once in a while after a meeting and the last time we sat and talked I noticed the sparkle or light in his eyes was gone. His posture signified his defeat.
Last Monday night he went home and started a party for one and never came back.
Its funny how little you know about people. His obituary told a story that I knew nothing about. He was a successful business man, a president of a lumber company. Father of three grown children, active in boy scouts, even received the "order of the arrow" from them. He hunted, fished, golfed, skiied, and lived a rich full life. My friend D and I attended his wake yesterday. He was cremated but there were so many beautiful picture boards and memorabilia that it took a long time to take it all in. So many happy having fun pictures. Laughing and loving life. This is an A I never knew. He was in fact quite humble about his life.
The last time I saw him was two weeks ago at a Saturday meeting. He was slunk deep in his chair, unshaven, large black circles but still managed a heaty "hey neighbor" greeting. Now I won't have the privilege of hearing that again. He has left an empty space around the table.
Afterwards a bunch of us talked about our loss. We asked how other people were doing that we hadn't seen in a while. Many are back out there hoping to cheat death one more time. For my friend A there wasn't one more time. There won't be another time for others either.
I'm not sure what makes people go back out again. Life is too much, or staying sober is too difficult, or they've just given up and want to give in. It's heartbreaking. A was only 56. A lot of living still left to do. So as I'm approaching my third sober anniversary I am reminded that the disease is one small drink away. It makes me shudder to think that its always that close. Good bye A, may you find the peace you were so desperately searching for......
Monday, November 19, 2012
Someone does listen
"Well, I've heard people say that God is the gift of desperation, and there's a lot to be said for having really reached a bottom where you've run out of anymore good ideas, or plans for everybody else's behavior; or how to save and fix and rescue; or just get out of a huge mess, possibly of your own creation.
"And when you're done, you may take a long, quavering breath and say, 'Help.' People say 'help' without actually believing anything hears that. But it is the great prayer, and it is the hardest prayer, because you have to admit defeat — you have to surrender, which is the hardest thing any of us do, ever."
Anne Lamott from an interview on her new book: 'Help, Thanks, Wow'
I've been through an emotional roller coaster lately. The highs and lows of being up one minute and down the next. These past few days I have been dealing with the wreckage left by a family member who decided to unload on other people. This particular onslaught brought up many past feeling of inadequacy which in disregards to what my program has taught me, I let all the old doubts come back in and rule my feelings. I have cried a lot and rented out unnecessary space simply because this person is so unhappy with their own life that they felt the need to take everyone else's inventory.
Not to mention my hubby is gone hunting for ten days. I'm juggling an overpacked schedule, and three children, a second seasonal job, and dealing with my disease on a daily basis. And you know what happens next: tired, irritable, and discontent. I really woke up with the blues. My daughter Grace had an early Dr. appointment this morning to monitor her medication for ADD (she has shown such awesome improvement and her self esteem is really climbing) so we were all out of the house early. After running to and from the Dr. back to school, I turned on NPR and fortunately for me an interview with Anne Lamott was on. And it was all about her new book on prayer.
And it was just what I needed to hear. Her words resonated within my soul. I'm at the above point: Help. So simple, so hard to admitt.
So I came into work with tears in my eyes. Am dealing with a million emotions, have finally eaten something, and am having Barnes and Noble hold the book. Tonight I will make a cup of tea, and begin reading. God really does listen, and answer, and thank you for listening too.....
"And when you're done, you may take a long, quavering breath and say, 'Help.' People say 'help' without actually believing anything hears that. But it is the great prayer, and it is the hardest prayer, because you have to admit defeat — you have to surrender, which is the hardest thing any of us do, ever."
Anne Lamott from an interview on her new book: 'Help, Thanks, Wow'
I've been through an emotional roller coaster lately. The highs and lows of being up one minute and down the next. These past few days I have been dealing with the wreckage left by a family member who decided to unload on other people. This particular onslaught brought up many past feeling of inadequacy which in disregards to what my program has taught me, I let all the old doubts come back in and rule my feelings. I have cried a lot and rented out unnecessary space simply because this person is so unhappy with their own life that they felt the need to take everyone else's inventory.
Not to mention my hubby is gone hunting for ten days. I'm juggling an overpacked schedule, and three children, a second seasonal job, and dealing with my disease on a daily basis. And you know what happens next: tired, irritable, and discontent. I really woke up with the blues. My daughter Grace had an early Dr. appointment this morning to monitor her medication for ADD (she has shown such awesome improvement and her self esteem is really climbing) so we were all out of the house early. After running to and from the Dr. back to school, I turned on NPR and fortunately for me an interview with Anne Lamott was on. And it was all about her new book on prayer.
And it was just what I needed to hear. Her words resonated within my soul. I'm at the above point: Help. So simple, so hard to admitt.
So I came into work with tears in my eyes. Am dealing with a million emotions, have finally eaten something, and am having Barnes and Noble hold the book. Tonight I will make a cup of tea, and begin reading. God really does listen, and answer, and thank you for listening too.....
Thursday, October 25, 2012
It's not so funny in the beginning....
A few weeks ago a newbie spoke up at a Saturday morning meeting. She was full of herself and was laughing and joking about how this "not drinking stuff wasn't going so well". She proceeded to give a drunkaloge of her first few days in AA. I was watching the reactions of the people around me as she continued on and I could tell it wasn't going to turn out well. After ten minutes of continuous giggling and jokes an old timer cut her off. You can imagine what happened next. How quickly a room divides. She got a dose of reality and she left the room. Some people followed and some people stayed. I chose to stay neutral and reflect upon my early program with a friend over lunch.
My friend D and I both took a glance back at why we came to AA. For him he had nothing left to loose. He had lost it all. Flipping the couch cushions over looking for change to buy a bottle when his entire life was pretty much in pieces. Myself because I was desperate. Did we use humor to hide those first few months? Yep, its a great avoidance to step one. For some silly reason I'm not sure why I thought being funny would allow me to not have to admitt that I was powerless over alcohol. But it did, and I did make jokes at my expense. But what I didn't realize or want to realize was how out of control I was. And if somethings funny then it can't really be so bad can it?
We also talked about the first few doses of reality. When someone whose been there knows this isn't a laughing matter. That since you really don't know anything perhaps you should shut your mouth, open your ears, and listen to people who've walked this path before you. We come in so full of ourselves that we've darn near eliminated any room for growth. We know it all. We know shit! I had huge doses of reality within my first three weeks. It sucked. Many times I wanted to run out of the room, many times I cried, in anger and frustration but it helped break my ego down so I became teachable. So I gained some humility.
As an alcoholic I know I used every facade and escape from humor to tears to avoid the real problem: that I was completely powerless over alcohol. It wasn't funny. It was serious and serious was an emotion I wanted very little of. I could be serious and very in touch with my feelings when I was drunk. Liquid courage can do that for you. But looking at my disease sober and head on there was nothing funny about it. I had to have a few more 24 hours of sobriety under my belt before I could say that.
As with all things in life we want to go from A to Z. We want to skip over all the hard work and get to the results. It just doesn't work that way. There is no "easier softer" way around it. Its work. Everyday work. Life just keeps piling it on and there are days when I can't find anything to laugh at, not even my dysfunctional self. And yet there are times when thats all I do is laugh. Not too long ago I was driving a van full of 5th and 6th grade soccer players home from an away game. It was a cold autumn day, the sun and the rain were sharing the sky and the fall colors were spectacular. As I glanced toward the setting sun one of the kids put in a Christmas CD and they all started singing "Jingle Bells". This is my life today. Full of chaos and noise. A reason I would have drank. A reason I know celebrate sobriety.
If you don't do the work, none of the simple pleasures in life will be yours. You will miss out on moments like this. Giggles and laughter, and singing off key while the rain splashes over the sun. You will laugh again, maybe not right away, maybe not the first few months, but you will. You need to be serious for a while. You need to take your life back. You need to show alcoholism that this disease in no laughing matter. It destroys, it kills, and it has the ability to strip any kind of joy from your life forever. Don't let it steal your smile, it just isn't worth it.....
My friend D and I both took a glance back at why we came to AA. For him he had nothing left to loose. He had lost it all. Flipping the couch cushions over looking for change to buy a bottle when his entire life was pretty much in pieces. Myself because I was desperate. Did we use humor to hide those first few months? Yep, its a great avoidance to step one. For some silly reason I'm not sure why I thought being funny would allow me to not have to admitt that I was powerless over alcohol. But it did, and I did make jokes at my expense. But what I didn't realize or want to realize was how out of control I was. And if somethings funny then it can't really be so bad can it?
We also talked about the first few doses of reality. When someone whose been there knows this isn't a laughing matter. That since you really don't know anything perhaps you should shut your mouth, open your ears, and listen to people who've walked this path before you. We come in so full of ourselves that we've darn near eliminated any room for growth. We know it all. We know shit! I had huge doses of reality within my first three weeks. It sucked. Many times I wanted to run out of the room, many times I cried, in anger and frustration but it helped break my ego down so I became teachable. So I gained some humility.
As an alcoholic I know I used every facade and escape from humor to tears to avoid the real problem: that I was completely powerless over alcohol. It wasn't funny. It was serious and serious was an emotion I wanted very little of. I could be serious and very in touch with my feelings when I was drunk. Liquid courage can do that for you. But looking at my disease sober and head on there was nothing funny about it. I had to have a few more 24 hours of sobriety under my belt before I could say that.
As with all things in life we want to go from A to Z. We want to skip over all the hard work and get to the results. It just doesn't work that way. There is no "easier softer" way around it. Its work. Everyday work. Life just keeps piling it on and there are days when I can't find anything to laugh at, not even my dysfunctional self. And yet there are times when thats all I do is laugh. Not too long ago I was driving a van full of 5th and 6th grade soccer players home from an away game. It was a cold autumn day, the sun and the rain were sharing the sky and the fall colors were spectacular. As I glanced toward the setting sun one of the kids put in a Christmas CD and they all started singing "Jingle Bells". This is my life today. Full of chaos and noise. A reason I would have drank. A reason I know celebrate sobriety.
If you don't do the work, none of the simple pleasures in life will be yours. You will miss out on moments like this. Giggles and laughter, and singing off key while the rain splashes over the sun. You will laugh again, maybe not right away, maybe not the first few months, but you will. You need to be serious for a while. You need to take your life back. You need to show alcoholism that this disease in no laughing matter. It destroys, it kills, and it has the ability to strip any kind of joy from your life forever. Don't let it steal your smile, it just isn't worth it.....
Monday, September 10, 2012
Cunning, baffling, and powerful...
Oh this precious little disease we have. You know the one, the one that whispers in our ears at the end of the day, "you need to relax, you're full of anxiety, just one won't hurt, there's nobody here to see you take the drink, no one has to know"....
And so the story goes but someone does know, and someone will be hurt, and that's the alcoholic that convinces themselves that they really don't have a problem. They can manage to have only one drink now. Surely after living months without drinking there's no way it will become unmanagable. Not at least until you buy into the lie...
Saturday morning I chaired the meeting. When I asked if there were any anniversaries my friend A raised his hand. Right away I got a big smile on my face and listened for him to recite "today I have three years", when instead out came, "today I have five months". My smile froze and I hope my eyes didn't give my surprise away. I had no idea that he had relapsed. You see A was there on my first night, a few months more than me sober. He lives in my neighborhood and was always saying to me, "keep coming back". For the past few months I haven't seen him on a regular basis but I would run into him now and then. People get busy, go back to work, change schedules, and then they go to different meetings. I didn't think anything about it. But now I was hearing about his relapse for the first time.
It wasn't pretty he said. He thought he could handle it. Just one tiny drink and then a month later he wound up jobless and back in treatment. His disease had once more outsmarted him. To say that he was humbled is an understatement. He is still having problems looking other people in the eyes. He's disappointed in himself. And yet he came back. He didn't continue to let his disease rule him. Even if humiliation is written all over his face he was back and five months in. After the meeting we hugged and I admitted I was shocked that I didn't know. He said he felt so stupid. But don't we all at some point?
People often think the hardest is when you first stop drinking. Then I've heard people say the first year is the toughest. But I think the further you get away from drinking the more dangerous it gets. Because this little disease keeps maturing, and its just waiting for the second you let your guard down to start whipering little suggesting in your ears. And boy can it be convincing. But it can backfire on the disease itself as well.
Seeing my friend A suffering and full of humiliation reminded me how very quickly I need to keep my senses sharpened. To not get boastful, to not think I'm in control, to not forget that I fight this disease each and every day. One of the things I kept thinking was that it could very well be me sitting in A's shoes. I get lax on going to meetings, lax on my readings and meditations, lax on my relationship with my higher power but thank God A was there to help me the other day. He was helping another alcoholic stay sober, and that alcoholic was me. I've said it before to him but I said it again, "thanks for being a part of my recovery". He gave me a good-bye hug and a smile and we went our seperate ways. Cunning, baffling, and powerful. May we never take those three word for granted......
And so the story goes but someone does know, and someone will be hurt, and that's the alcoholic that convinces themselves that they really don't have a problem. They can manage to have only one drink now. Surely after living months without drinking there's no way it will become unmanagable. Not at least until you buy into the lie...
Saturday morning I chaired the meeting. When I asked if there were any anniversaries my friend A raised his hand. Right away I got a big smile on my face and listened for him to recite "today I have three years", when instead out came, "today I have five months". My smile froze and I hope my eyes didn't give my surprise away. I had no idea that he had relapsed. You see A was there on my first night, a few months more than me sober. He lives in my neighborhood and was always saying to me, "keep coming back". For the past few months I haven't seen him on a regular basis but I would run into him now and then. People get busy, go back to work, change schedules, and then they go to different meetings. I didn't think anything about it. But now I was hearing about his relapse for the first time.
It wasn't pretty he said. He thought he could handle it. Just one tiny drink and then a month later he wound up jobless and back in treatment. His disease had once more outsmarted him. To say that he was humbled is an understatement. He is still having problems looking other people in the eyes. He's disappointed in himself. And yet he came back. He didn't continue to let his disease rule him. Even if humiliation is written all over his face he was back and five months in. After the meeting we hugged and I admitted I was shocked that I didn't know. He said he felt so stupid. But don't we all at some point?
People often think the hardest is when you first stop drinking. Then I've heard people say the first year is the toughest. But I think the further you get away from drinking the more dangerous it gets. Because this little disease keeps maturing, and its just waiting for the second you let your guard down to start whipering little suggesting in your ears. And boy can it be convincing. But it can backfire on the disease itself as well.
Seeing my friend A suffering and full of humiliation reminded me how very quickly I need to keep my senses sharpened. To not get boastful, to not think I'm in control, to not forget that I fight this disease each and every day. One of the things I kept thinking was that it could very well be me sitting in A's shoes. I get lax on going to meetings, lax on my readings and meditations, lax on my relationship with my higher power but thank God A was there to help me the other day. He was helping another alcoholic stay sober, and that alcoholic was me. I've said it before to him but I said it again, "thanks for being a part of my recovery". He gave me a good-bye hug and a smile and we went our seperate ways. Cunning, baffling, and powerful. May we never take those three word for granted......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)