“You are so bright and happy, even at work. Are you always like this or is there something wrong with you?”

To which, of course, I replied… A little of both. You see I like both aspects of this compliment/tease from one of my favorite people at work. First of all, I like that I’m seen as bright, which I am most days; and of course that it seems a little “odd” to someone NOT in recovery.  Both equal transparency. Both are absolutely 100% truth.

You see, we have a solution today. A seemingly infallible way to deal with whatever is ailing our addled brains. Twelve steps to rely on to clear out the wreckage of self and sick and twisted. A way out. A SOLUTION.  So that we don’t have to stay stuck.  Once you know the way out, it’s like riding a bicycle. A little wobbly at first yet the moment you begin your muscles instinctively remember how to pedal.

The steps are like that for me anyway.  I’ve been steppin’ times 12 for nearly two decades (with a brief intermission for idiocy).  I can tell a distinct difference when I don’t do a daily tenth step.  To be honest, this stumps some people in my life.  That I don’t put my issues ON them.  That I’d rather work through it and come back later to resolve if need be or simply let go of the situation. After close examination of my behavior and reactions, I am fully able to LET IT GO.  Make amends if necessary and after discussing with an objective party (usually my sponse/bff/killer cool bestie blonde chick – *waves at Kat*)  Checking things out with someone NOT in the situation is vital.  Yes. VITAL.

If left to my own devices, if I try to resolve things without really looking at my part? It gets ugly.  Definitely easier to blame you for my feelings and reactions than examine where I had been selfish, dishonest, self seeking, and afraid.  (Sound familiar??? It should.  It’s the fourth step inventory and for me the tenth step as well. Written. Yes.)

No matter WHAT someone else does to me, real or imagined; I cannot look at their part in things.  What’s important is the way I react.  That is ALL I am responsible for today.  What a relief really.  I mean if someone is being an ass (like people do from time to time), I look at my part.

• How did I want this person to think and act MY way? With no regard for the situation or perception, when I want YOU to do what I want YOU to do; it is FAIL. Selfish.
• What behavior did I exhibit in response to your behavior? Did I knee-jerk, as I am wont to do? Did I get pissy or angry or yell or cry to get my way? Did I arouse bitterness or suspicion? Did I talk behind your back? Did I punish you in some way?  This is Self Seeking.
• Did I lie and say nothing was wrong? Did I lie out of self preservation? Did I omit details to make myself look better? Dishonest.
• Was I afraid of your reaction? What you think of me? What the repercussion would be? Was fear filling my gullet like an impregnated sperm whale? Afraid.

This is my 10th step. This is what keeps the crap from building up inside stroking my sick; my guided meditative directions that prevent me from falling back into the same patterns of addictive thinking.  THIS … is my daily housecleaning. How I was taught by the oldtimers, how I keep MY behavior in the forefront instead of blaming ALL OF YOU … for my issues.  Like windex for the soul, it is my salvation most days.

Now some don’t get this at all. A few that are close to me, and you know who you are, want to address things right on the spot.  To which I simply say … I need to process this first and then I’ll get back to you.  The issue is mine, or at least feels that way, and I have to look at my stuff. Nine times out of ten, it’s resolved quickly and the emotional boo boo is kissed by the lips of the tenth step.

What a revelation, gift, tool, blessing … freedom. To not be burdened by trying to control others emotions and behavior? Freakin’ priceless.  This leads to my mostly sunny days.  Sure I cry. Yes it’s not always sunshine and roses. But I embrace those days too as it can’t be sunny ALL the time.  Fortunately in my world there is just enough tears raining down to make the flowers grow.  Just… enough.

And for the second part of this morning’s comment? The “is there something wrong with you?” question?  Well. Duh. I just explained that.  There’s tons wrong with me. It’s my natural inclination as an alcoholic to be selfish. To want others to think and act MY way. The “if only” syndrome. If only people would … do what I wanted the world would be a better place.  How arrogant.

These days I’m satisfied, most days, to accept my flaws and imperfections and to know that I’m NOT in charge.  I like that.  If I were in charge? Whoa baby, we’d all be in trouble.  So yes, with step work, I can remain positive. And YES, there’s lots of things wrong with “me”.  I’m completely and totally okay with both.  Not to mention grateful.  But that’s another blog entirely.  Step ten saves my ass every single time. Thank the gods … whomever they may be.

Link to link to link, down a rabbit hole, led me through Briggs Myers MBTI, into a discussion on Pyrrhic victory,  over Libet’s readiness potential, finally settling on the neuroscience of free will.  Yes. I am an uber nerd and I adore this stuff.  For THIS post however, perhaps a little too involved. Okay REALLY involved.  So I’ve decided to not write about the unbelievably interesting cognitive processes involved in decision making. (Message me if you wanna talk about it though … late night … over coffee or whatever)

Can you imagine just for a moment if we simply said things and didn’t follow through?   “I’m going to get up now.” and stay seated.  “I’m going to work now.” and not.  “I’ve decided to take up basket weaving.” umm huh?  It would be interesting as hell to me to see the percentage of how much this REALLY happens.  Just in recovery land alone, I’m betting it’s a 70 percent reality and best case scenario, we have to be backed into a corner to do pretty much anything.   The pain has to get SOOOOO bad, that following directions … becomes a viable option.

What we think … we become.   Some smart guy said that a long time ago. It seems to me that the whole “decision” making deal, is a process. Steps one, two, three all wrapped in a big bundle.  In order for me to make a decision … I have to break through the denial that I’m even sick, investigate the idea of there being something “bigger” than me to help me resolve the sick, and then decide to do WHATEVER IS NECESSARY TO STOP BEING SICK.

Sounds fairly simple no? No.  Early on, us addicts and drunks, would give ANYTHING … to NOT be addicts and drunks.  Just to be able to use like normal people (ummm. “normal” non-addict types don’t care if they drink or use or not. pretty much a NON-ISH.)  That’s the great lie our heads tell us.  Somehow, someway, if only I do THIS – then I can use again safely. Umm. Experience shows us that is one of the biggest characteristics of our disease.  It’s everyone elses fault.  The “if only” syndrome.  That can stick with us for quite some time, I remember feeling as if I had “victim” stuck to my butt for the first few years.  Hey! It was all I knew.  NOW I know bettah.

Okay back to decisions.  In really really looking at this process. There’s more than one decision making process happening in recovery.   We walk into AA/NA/CA/Whatever-A … and the magic magnifying glass is in effect.   Do these people have what I want? Do I belong here? Are they as bad as me? I can’t be as sick as them? What the hell are these steps? They want me to get numbers for what?  It is INDEED, another world.  One that is alien and scary and if we can get past all the ritualistic mumbo jumbo … perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to hear ONE person say ONE thing … that makes us feel like we belong.

Deciding to go to a meeting, deciding to give this recovery schtick a try, deciding to be willing to do the work.  It’s an important part of the process.  Not a one of us simply came to the rooms and said “Okay bring on the whole fact finding/fact facing process. I’m ready to see what an ass I’ve been all these years.”  There’s a reason it’s done piecemeal.  The mind can only wrap itself around so much.  So today I decide not to use … and then do the necessary things to make that a reality.

Faith without works … blah blah. But there IS indeed merit in the decision making process.  But as Bill and Co. said in the BB (directions for the fourth step – my favorite step btw. yes I know I’m odd)

“Next we launched out on a course of vigorous action, the first step of which was a personal housecleaning, which many of us had never attempted. Though our decision was a vital and crucial step, it could have little permanent effect, unless  at once followed by a strenuous effort to face and be rid of, things in ourselves that had been blocking us.”  Alcoholics Anonymous pg.63-64

If you read “How It Works” Chapter Five in the BB, it is almost entirely dedicated to step three.  The CONVINCING.  It’s important.  Decisions are extremely important.  We have to mentally be ready to take the next dive.  Straight into a morass of the ONE thing we DON’T want to see.  Ourselves.  So yes a decision DOES mean something … but will not stick until we follow through.

So by all means make a decision. Think about it, ponder your life run on self will, see if it’s been successful.  Then. Get your ass to work. I’ll be here to sharpen your pencil at 3 in the morning.  With coffee. And tissues.

Is this epic cop out or momentary brilliance? Just turn it over. Everything will be just fine.  Sorta like saying, if I just don’t think about it it will go away? Or perhaps it’s the ideology of unconditional acceptance.  Maybe like saying to a drunk … just quit it. Give it to “?” and you’ll be just fine. I don’t know bout you all, but it was NEVER that easy for this girl. If that were the case then screw stepwork. We could stop at step three and be done with the whole bloody mess. Waltz off into the sunset of eternal bliss … one two three one two three.

Turn it over. I turn THAT idea over and over in my mind.  Is a simple statement of affirmation enough really? I mean I get the whole concept of not ruminating on a problem or stewing in it even.  But I have to work at it.  Practice. Do something different. Meditate. Practice mindfulness. Look at my part in it. Talk to someone. And then, by “?” … CHANGE IT.

This person I spoke with. He said the same things he’s been saying since I’ve known him.   In the same spot. Stagnant. Still a bad relationship. Still back and forth. Still. Standing still.  Then I simply ask … Whatcha gonna do? Get the rote answer. Turn it over to god. I say … How exactly? Silence.  yeah I gotcha. gotta go now.  Doin’ what ya always did WILL bring different results most times … worse ones. Compounded with years of like minded behaviors, it builds on itself into a flaming crescendo of  S  I  C  K.

So really. HOW exactly do you “turn it over”? And does it stay that way? Like a cherry turnover does the dough stay neatly pressed, or do ya flip flop in the sugary mess? To quote a “good” book, faith without works is dead.  Sorta sick of “dogma funerals” really. Not so much what you believe that matters … it’s what you do with it that makes all the difference.  Verb …  it.

Slowly I stopped doing what worked. My “boyfriend” didn’t like all the activities. I did them by myself.  Struggles ensued. I wanted so badly for things to work; I began to be less … just less. Got married, immediate pregnancy. Justifications crept in (progression into relapse slant suckin the life outta me). Rationalizing not going to meetings, not talking to my people, not being me.  I own every bit of this shit here. No blame game from this chick. It started slowly, this bedsore of the soul.  Every notch a bit closer to the inevitable.  Baby girl came.  Husband decided to drink again (his shit not mine … totally).

At this point I had no resources. Shame and remorse filled my gullet until I had no nerve left to pick up the 100 pound phone.  “I’m just fine. The problem is him not me. I’m not drinking so whatever.”  I became convinced of this lie, this bacterial infection of my highest self, oozing into my subconscious.  Ever hear that there’s nothing worse than a dry drunk? They ain’t lyin people. Bitter, angry, isolated, depressed, lonely, hateful, cantankerous; no this was no pleasantville.  Fast forward through two more babies, verbal abuse by a drunken husband, a move to another city far away from my recovery land.  Numb, hopeless, self esteem of an amoeba, self hatred seeping into every crevice.  Put on a good show for the babies, Mommy was the ultimate faker.

Smile – liar, laugh – liar, clean house equals serene – liar, fake it in the sex department so he’ll be nice for at least five minutes – liar; the trouble came in when I believed the lie.  After the last mini ninja was born … the active use thoughts came. “I was 19 when I got sober. I’m sure it was just a phase. Bet I could drink just a little.” This dry drunk went on for five years.  My life was so filled with misery and despair it once again became a viable choice.

Drink, drank, drunk. Grocery store rum became gettin the Capt. in me at a phenomenal rate. Daily trips to the liquor store blaming my husbands family for being lushes ended up being thousands in credit card debauchery.  Sociable afternoon drinking quickly became morning “hit” to take the edge off.  I became the stay at home mom kinda drunk; hiding bottles in closets and coffee carafes and two liters of coke zero.  Gettin mouthy. Not “taking it” anymore which wasn’t entirely fair as I’d taken it for almost six years.  Was gettin “uppity” he said. You’re ugly, fat, disgusting, worthless, not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough blah blah fucking blah.  Now look closely. I attracted to me what I felt to be true about me. Someone to treat me the way I thought about me. This is no victim story. Not even a little bit. MY show. MY shit.  I took it. Allowed it. Made a choice.

This show culminated in an act so horrific that I still cannot believe it happened.  Waking up with a remembrance of swinging oscillating fans, squib kicks to the ribs, punches in the jaw and arm and back and soul, whispers of “I’m going to kill you” ringing faintly in my ears, laughing to the tune of insanity “go ahead and kill me it’d be easier than dealing with this everyday”, death was imminent.  It was a dream. Had to be.  Try to sit up and can’t. No fucking dreams here.  Lyin to the doctor before surgery. “I fell down the stairs”. Internal bleeding from a fall. Shredded gall bladder from tripping on the bullshit. Husband approves and brings flowers after surgery.  I know I’m done. It is enough.

I crawl on my face back to AA.  Pretending not to notice the bruises and the gasps of pain as I try to sit down.  Welcomed by strangers with sugary kisses and limitless compassion.  Hand held while years of death are shrugged from my shoulders.  Crying in hysterics until no more tears while come. Dry heaving my steps … again. Pain immense, growth evident. Loving me into self like. Enough like to get it together. Job, self esteem, self worth, just … self.  Eyes blinded in pain by the light, I do the work.  I hate the humility of it all, the “whence I came from stories”, the sobriety countdowns. The “relapse show”. Once  the denial was gone, five years of hell bum rushed my ass and beat me into a state of reasonableness.  Decubitis ulcer debreeded … scraping off the layers of skin to expose the canker.  Dug that shit outta me with the help of simple kindness and steps lovingly spoon fed to me by an amazing sponsor (she saved my life. she knows this. she is humble and doesn’t remind me of such. i love you Kat).  Fully awake again, I know that big changes are a comin … this topic is a whole other blog however.

My hope from this … is that you see the choice in it all.  The choice to stop doing what worked. I had mucho shame upon returning, even after KNOWING what was wrong with me. Disease is no joke.  No matter how people appear on the outside, you never know what a loving hug or handshake can do. Welcome people. Don’t demean. We do that enough for ourselves. Just making it back alive, is proof enough that us “retreads” deserve kindness. The truth does NOT have to be shoved down anyone’s throat.

Relapse is a choice made in hell smothered in self derision and hatred. Delusional grandiosity flavored with chocolaty lies.  Being in the cave becomes comfortable again. Sometimes we need to lose everything … again; to remember who we really are.  I remember. Once again.