If you’ve ever been to an “anonymous type” meeting, you’ve probably heard about this strange word called acceptance.  Dictionary.com defines as “the act of taking or receiving something offered.  favorable reception; approval; favor. the act of assenting or believing.” At meetings all over the universe tonight, I imagine wise folks with many years mouthing the word “acceptance” when someone flops a problem down on the recovery table.

That being said, acceptance appears to be *gulp* … “taking it” with “a favorable reception” and “believing it to be true”.  Holy shitcakes. This means that when I have difficulties (as most of us do of course) I’m to not only buy it but be glad to do so?? What the hell does that mean?  That there is some rhyme or reason to all this madness?  That if I keep putting one foot in front of the other that there will be a purpose or knowledge gleaned or some kind of courage found that wasn’t there before? That maybe just maybe what doesn’t kill us … yeah that phrase.

Maybe there’s not a reason. It could be that life is life. That fairness doesn’t exist and there’s no grand justice or big daddy in the sky that keeps a tally. I don’t know.  Don’t have that answer. What I do know is that I can remember. Remember who I really, truly am … way down deep … when the shit hits the fan.  Full of honesty, courage, strength, truth, fortitude, willingness … yeah the stuff I dig.

So perhaps the whole acceptance thing is like military issue glasses. Not much for looks or bling or even pizazz but brings some serious clarity in Buddy Holly frames.  What’s the nitty gritty of the “work” that we do in recovery?  Gettin on with the gettin on … the “no matter what” of it all.  Grit your teeth and accept it. Some of us even do it with some grace and style.  Personally I’m still a bit teenager-ish about it, the tantrums lessen every month or so and hissy fits become funny.

“And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. ”  (pg. 417 BB 4th ed.)

Accept the things I cannot change … (serenity prayers worldwide)

“Take it” …  “with favorable reception” … “and believe”.  And whom or what you believe to be a power greater than you… (mine is a room full of drunks)  they still continue to laugh at me as I look over top of my glasses with eye rolls and middle fingers.  They accept me with all my flaws and tantrums and silliness that comes from thinking that I’m more important than I really am. They accept me with open arms and the knowledge that we share the same flawed perceptions peppered with humor. THEY YOU accept me… who the hell am I not to accept myself?

And as I continue to look over those ‘glasses’… when I decide to finally look through them again, life seems more than half full. Optimism through a reality strainer. Accepting that everything is as it should be at this very moment… it’s MY eyes that are the problem. Myopia and astigmatism in the guise of pessimistic belligerence. My prescription? A healthy dose… of acceptance.

As it tells us in our literature (you know the Big blue Book… at least for this drunk it’s my textbook), namely the Doctor’s opinion, we “cannot differentiate the true from the false”.

huh?

okay I’ll let Dr. Silkworth explain this since he did such a fabulous job doing so.  Linkage:  . http://www.aa.org/bigbookonline/en_doctoropinion.cfm

Men and women drink essentially because they like the effect produced by alcohol. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, their alcoholic life seems the only normal one. They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drinks—drinks which they see others taking with impunity. After they have succumbed to the desire again, as so many do, and the phenomenon of craving develops, they pass through the well-known stages of a spree, emerging remorseful, with a firm resolution not to drink again. This is repeated over and over, and unless this person can experience an entire psychic change there is very little hope of his recovery.

Oh. So what he’s saying is that there comes a point where we lose the ability to see and realize the truth about our drinking and ourselves. Denial isn’t a river and self deception rules the roost. We, as addicted people would rather ANYTHING else be wrong than admit that our drinking is to blame. This comes at a high price. Family, friends, children, jobs et cetera et cetera shoulder that burden. “If you had a life like I did… you’d drink too”  ”If only people would leave me alone, everything would be fine.”

The basic fact is this. A person that DOES NOT have an issue with drinking wouldn’t care one bit if someone said “Hey. Drinking is causing all these problems for you. Quit it.” It’d be a no brainer. They wouldn’t CARE if they could or couldn’t ingest alcohol any longer.

Does there ever come a point where we can trust our own thinking again? Is there ever a moment when we CAN differentiate the true from the false when it comes to our magical mystifying thought processes?

That’s a tricky one. But fortunately there’s an answer…

Ah. So the answer is a resounding yes. Funny where those particular promises come into play. AFTER we work step 9.  After amends are made and our side of the street is clear and unfettered to the best of our ability. The scary-ish thing about that is maintaining that state. But we have 10, 11, and 12 for that. AND… reliable sources such as sponsors and trusted recovery people to help us SEE when and if the sick comes back.

I’m usually pretty wary of promising things. But I have to tell ya; I’ve seen it, done it, BEEN it (it being absolved from sick thinking and returning back to denial) and this stuff works yo. You have much evidence to support such promises. It works… if you work it. Pinky swear promise.

Sometimes we forget what it was like. To be new. To be really really sick. To be so riddled with self centered disease that we believe our own lies.

It’s easy to forget really. When you’ve been in the rooms for a period of time so long it becomes second nature (this can come quickly or slowly depending on the level of step work you’ve done). And then you start sponsoring. You KNOW the solution, for shitsakes you’ve LIVED it. You KNOW they can get better, if you can anyone can right? All you need is Honesty Openmindedness and Willingness … and follow the steps to a bright new future alcohol and drug free.

And then they don’t listen to your suggestions or maybe you’re uber healthy and only suggest things out of the recovery manuals (Big Book or NA book).  Maybe you see them heading for a relapse and they get MAD at you for saying so. Perhaps they get involved in an unhealthy relationship or do ALL the “wrong” things and you can do nothing but sit there, on your hands, and be there.

It’s hard. It is. I’ve sponsored hundreds of girls and of course learned everything the hard way.

I’ve done the ole “I can’t believe she’s acting that way.” Well duh. IT’S MORE NORMAL (in the beginning) FOR US TO BE SICK THAN IT IS TO BE HEALTHY. Really. Do you forget so quickly what it was like to not know up from down or which way is the way to recovery?

We have a disease that tells us we don’t have one. We almost have to be beaten into a state of reasonableness by our sick behaviors.

Hate to break it to you… but no one will listen to you if they’ve not surrendered to the fact that their way does NOT work. Tried every loophole, every excuse, every “worming their way out” that they can possibly devise to NOT admit to themselves that they are SICK. (pssst… it was the same for every one of us)

If we personalize a newcomers behavior it’s rather silly. Perhaps an Alanon meeting (to learn detachment) might help. We are not responsible for someone staying sober. We are only responsible for sharing how WE got and stayed sober. It’s up to them to take the suggestions or not so much. It’s in the sharing of your experience, strength, and hope that YOU stay clean… NOT the outcome.  Let go and get out of the way of who or what is really running the show. Think of yourself as more of a messenger than a drill sergeant.

Hard lesson to learn when we’re coming from a place of love and caring; wanting other drunks and dope fiends to “get it” like we did. Just remember however… sometimes the most loving thing you can do is let someone alone. Experience sometimes is our only teacher. Taking someone’s “word” for things isn’t exactly our strong suit yes? We can never expect sick people to act well and then get mad at them for being the way they’ve ALWAYS been.

Our goal is to lead by example, share what we’ve learned/been taught, be IN recovery without judgment… so that we can be of optimum service.  Other people’s behavior is NOT a reflecti0n of how good/bad of a sponsor you are… it really isn’t. If you find you’re getting in too deep with a new person… take a step back, inventory, look at how you’re expecting other people to think and act YOUR way (part of the 4th and 10th step – definition of selfishness) and know that the fact that you care so much is awesome.

Because we’ve gone from completely self absorbed people to wanting others to “get it” soooo badly. THAT is a beautiful thing. Compassion and empathy are necessary… control is so last year. Love you people and as always… I Love Recovery.

What do you do when you’re hurt? And not in the “some guy hollered at me in the store” or “I got cut off in traffic” or “my boss said I needed to improve”… sorta way. But when someone you’re close to… screws up.  What if that person in your life (family, friend, ‘close’ person) does it a lot? Says mean things or reacts negatively to you in some way… over and over and over again.

I know. I know. You say… “Tell em’ off. Or to go fly a kite. Or even don’t be around them anymore.”

Does that work? Get over it or deal with it or get thick skin or forget it or write about it or or or… yeah.

What’s so wrong with just feeling it? Is it so bad to cry? Is it so bad to allow yourself to grieve? Pretty rotten things happen when you don’t… repression leads to resentment leads to … fail.

And then after you feel it, after the tears have dried and you’ve washed all the black mascara off your raccoon eyes, after your chest feels like the elephant has finally gotten up… then you look through the lens of compassion. For them.

Say what? Huh? Why the hell should I do that? THEY are the ones who were jerkoffs and did this… and then that… and then… yeah how’s that working out for you? Looking through the eyes of compassion means you “get it”. Firstly you understand it’s not about YOU, it’s about THEM and their reactions. It shifts everything back to the source instead of carrying it on your shoulders. Want an example? Sure. Why not. Writing this out is the only thing I know how to do. So why not share it.

Mom. Mine. Stifled. Suffocated. Inundated with shame since birth. Raised a “good” (strict) Catholic. Filled with body image issues and shame about sensuality. The old “good girls don’t do that” and “put those things away”-isms. Taught by HER family. No rejoicing or reveling in femininity. No flirting allowed. No accentuating the feminine. No… fun at all.

Imagine being raised that way. Oh wait. I was. But somehow had the ability to reach past that dogma; to strive for what made me feel good about myself instead of being stuck in everyone else’s ‘rules’. Wow. Okay so when hurtful comments are made I understand WHY. I understand that it’s because of HER upbringing and cultural norms and stereotypes spoon fed by stiff upper lip types. Oh. Right. Kinda melts away the hurt a bit. A lot.

Does this make it okay for people to be unkind? Hell no. What it does is make ME feel okay, knowing that it’s not so much about me. Compassion for her experience allows me to let her be where SHE is and not expect her to be different. Helps me to say a funny quip about cleavage versus getting hurt/upset/angry when the word “slut” is used. To not react to a negative insult about eye makeup or hair styles or or or… yeah I think you get it. Good thing? I get it too.

Stepwork helps with this. I KNOW what’s mine and what’s NOT.  Greatest thing ever? I’M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR OTHER PEOPLE’S STUFF… ONLY MINE.

I’m me. Other people’s opinions of me do NOT have to be MY opinions. I like me and it’s taken me a long long time to get here. Compassion teaches me to feel empathy for others who DON’T like themselves. It’s natural for people who DON’T like themselves to put down others. Remember… we treat other people the way we feel about ourselves.  Wow. That’s interesting yes?

So the next mean person in your life who says something less than kind or downright cruel, is really hating themselves. Holy crap. Think about that in your OWN context. When you are hurtful to others you’re really exhibiting your opinion of YOU. Kinda changes things doesn’t it? I know it does for me. Compassion doesn’t mean doormat. It does, however, mean you don’t take it on as YOURS. That you realize the culmination of another’s life experience has shaped the way they are today. (with a dash of humility for flavor)

Talk about flipping the switch. Mean people are mean to themselves. How horrible do you feel deep down when you know you’ve hurt someone? Imagine then… how THEY feel about THEMSELVES. Yeah. Yikes. So to de-”mean” in this context helps me to figure out that it’s really not about being mean to me… at all. It’s about them, not having life skills to see things in a healthful positive way. And so? The ‘mean’ melts away and I am left with… compassion.

Neat stuff this program yes? YES. I love recovery.

The mob mentality. One starts the brawl and people begin to realize that they have achieved power through disorganized chaos. And the bottle breaking begins…

Wisegeek.com says:

The term “mob mentality” is used to refer to unique behavioral characteristics which emerge when people are in large groups. It is sometimes used disparagingly, as the term “mob” typically conjures up an image of a disorganized, aggressive, panicked group of people. Social psychologists who study group behavior tend to prefer terms like “herd behavior” or “crowd hysteria.” The study of mob mentality is quite fascinating, and it is used to analyze situations which range from evacuations gone awry to the moment when demonstrations turn violent.

Panic. Aggression. Crazed hatred. Over a police shooting in London. According to Addiction Magazine in an article written by Jeff MZ:

In the last week, there have been riots over the shooting death of local hoodlum, Mark Duggan, who was allegedly shot and killed by police during an attempted arrest. The police had alleged that Duggan fired first. However, the Independent Police Complaints Commission has determined that Duggan did not fire first and, in fact, the gun in his posession had not been recently fired at all. Police had alleged that Duggan fired and hit a police officer who was saved by his police radio. The commission has determined that the round that hit that radio was from a Heckler & Koch firearm which was police issued.

How does this impact a recovering community? Well seeing that it’s not safe to leave their houses, and as they’ve been told as much by the government; meeting goers in London are forced to stay home. Not to mention the fear for your safety and well being of family and friends taking it’s toll.

All I can think is how those of us in recovery have chosen to leave the herd mentality behind. To do the right thing no matter what everyone else is doing. Anytime I see catastrophe and the worst in the human condition, I immediately am moved to think of how recovery has changed my life. Focusing on me and my behavior, not the actions of others; and how that is so very rare.

All given freely by people like you. Yes. I love recovery.

Tonight when you lay down to rest your eyes at the end of a long day, think of those who might not be safe. Those that can’t get to meetings… those who are still suffering because of external (or internal) conditions. And say a prayer for the safety of those in London-town.

In The Rooms (http://intherooms.com) will be holding an online video 12 step meeting for those folks in London who can’t leave their homes. Pretty amazing and compassionate. I’ll be there.

So I got my knickers twisted. Or rather should I say … my issues with the stigma surrounding addiction were tripped. That’s not a bad thing. If we don’t support each other and help to educate the world … then statements like GaGa’s (listed below) will continue to be misunderstood. I don’t personally care for the GaGa chick all that much, but her compassion for an alcoholic… it touched me.

I read an interesting article today in Addiction Magazine about Lady GaGa commenting on Amy Winehouse passing away. Her words were this:

“She’s really special.  She just gave me a lot of hope and she deserved a lot better than what people gave her. And I hope that the world learns a lesson from this. I really hope they do. Because it’s not her lesson to learn – it’s the world’s.” Lady Gaga on Amy Winehouse (Lady Gaga Says Amy Winehouse Deserved Better,http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/exclusive-lady-gaga-says-amy-winehouse-deserved-better-20110802 (Retrieved 8/02/11 at 4:17 pm)

Let me share the most amazing moment of an amazingly glorious weekend.

So there I am, minding my own business (which I never do), and a pretty redhead shouts my name as I’m walking into the big meeting Saturday night at the stadium.  I recognize her immediately.  She says … You probably don’t remember me … and I interrupt her with her name and a big hug. She begins with explaining where I would know her from and I laugh. You see she’s one of the ones that I’d never forget. One of the girls in early recovery who was a mirror image of me when I got sober. She begins to tell me how much I helped her eleven years ago when she was my patient in treatment.

I let her talk and tell me where she is now and how happy she is … but she really didn’t have to go into detail. The eyes said it all. Bright and shining and full of love and life and most of all … hope. When I knew her at the tender age of 19, her eyes were less than shiny.  And I’m not going to front her out here because that’s just epically uncool. But let’s just say that she didn’t have a lot of life experience to be hopeful about. Just as I didn’t. When I came into the rooms at 19 years old.

I listened with tears in my eyes. You see she was “stubborn” and “difficult” and … well pretty much I loved her completely because I KNEW where that came from.  You see my treatment groups were therapy focused but none of that mumbo jumbo malarky about “you’re a drunk and dope fiend because mommy and daddy were mean.” Oh no. We took responsibility in loud voices and confronted our diseases with laughter and tears and intensity. Just like I hoped their recovery would be after they left me. For treatment isn’t recovery … it’s discovery. And that fact was thumped quite often.

So we walked down memory lane a bit. She finally took a breath and I had so many things I wanted to say … but couldn’t. Like she had helped me more than I could have ever helped her. That I was so proud of the woman she’d become. That she had pretty much made my lifetime because of all the things to remember from a decade ago … she remembered some of the things we learned together. That she was beautiful and smart and amazing and a woman of recovery grown from a wounded girl.

But I didn’t have to say a word. She KNEW. It was written in the way she talked and walked and holy crap … she was an example of what I want to be when I grow up (although I’m sure she doesn’t see herself that way.) I managed to mumble “I’m so proud of you and you helped me too.”

To which she replied … “We helped each other didn’t we? Because we cared.”

Yes we did. We sure did. You never know what one kind word will do. Never realize how you can impact another. I’m sure she’ll never know how much hope she gave me all those years ago. Or maybe she will. She’s a pretty smart cookie after all.  See it’s not about the “me”. It’s about the “we”. And we’re examples of recovery no matter where we are. Even me as a 28 year old addictions counselor who just happened to be a big book thumping hard core recovery chick. Eleven years ago. Amazing. In the place where it all started … one person helping another which in turns helps … the helper. Sound familiar? It oughtta.

(and don’t even get me started on meeting my mentor and best friend Ron P. from Texas. omg. then I’ll be in full out tears. but we’ll leave that for another blog. thankfully)

Ever walked into a meeting and felt like you were home? How bout the opposite? Walked into a meeting and felt unwelcomed and like you didn’t belong? Like you walked right into the middle of Recovery Clique central? Now. I know what you’re gonna say … there are no strangers only friends we haven’t met yet. Right. I get that whole common bond thingy. And I buy it … to an extent. But there IS a difference.

Now I’ve been to meetings all over the U.S. … literally. And 99% of the time I feel a huge sigh of relief like I’m home. People are speaking my language and “get me”. However … when I relocated … I’ve found that there are some meetings that might not … fit. And that’s okay. No judgment here. Just identification. Pure and simple.

And then I hear the words of my old sponsor in my head. “Who ever said you had to LIKE it. This is life and death here sister.” Yes I get that and believe that wholeheartedly. But why is it that you “go” to certain meetings and not others? Best fit right? Right. It’s not to say that the other meetings are BAD. I don’t believe in that. I simply like going to meetings where I can relate a tiny bit better. Where I got sober there were multiple meetings per day … morning noon night … I could hit a lunch meeting or a even a meeting before work. There were several meetings at night and I could choose from speaker versus discussion (my favorite) or big book meetings.

I was spoiled.

There was a smorgasbord of recovery to pick from and I went to meetings nearly every single day for well over a decade. I loved it. There were activities and conferences and campouts and dances and going out for the meeting after the meeting til 2 AM at the local restaurant. Sigh. I miss those days. Didn’t know how good I had it really. Where I live now … there is one meeting a night usually. Two if your lucky. One morning meeting on Saturday and a couple few discussion meetings.

Ahem. Talk about a change.

However not all change is a bad thing. Being spoiled isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Truly how can we practice healthy recovery behaviors if we’re always around people healthier than us. That is why it’s SO important to work with the newcomer. So what if you’re in a meeting that’s made up of 95% newcomers? Be the best five percent you can be. Remember you are not responsible for the outcome and honestly the whole goal is for YOU to stay sober.

Find support from other places (like here. TADA.) But still get your ass to meetings. You are responsible you know. (you people do know I’m talking to myself right? right. moving along. *blush*) Fitting in is overrated anyway and it’ll do your ego some good to be looked at like an alien once in a while. Serious ego deflation when you’re used to head nodding to get blank stares and “wtf’s” when talking about stepwork. Trust me. H-U-M-I-L-I-T-Y.

The main purpose of a meeting is to not drink/use. To always get what you need? That’s the gravy. It’s all about showing up and being present in recovery. So you don’t get the touchy feely fellowship feeling from the meetings around you right now … I bet you that one day you’ll find someone walking through those doors that thinks like YOU. That you can bond with and get all that warm and fuzzy malarky from. Truly remember what you’re there for… recovery. And ask yourself … what are your expectations anyway? (holy crap i need to do an inventory. gah.)

So now that I’ve lectured myself for a few minutes … I need to work on my gratitude.        And remember … that not everyone should be where I think … they should be. My only job? Is to keep coming back. Who ever in the whole time you’ve been in these rooms said that “liking” was a requirement anyway. Gawd. I’m off to 10th step. I wonder if anonymously sent big books would be an appropriate amends to a meeting? Perhaps I should just keep on being the me that I am and irritate everyone by talking about the solution with my happy self. Hey. It helps me not get drunk. I’m down with it. Besides … standing out from the crowd is NOT always a bad thing  *big smile*

After doing inventory on my inventories about where I’m at right now … one thing is certain. I need connection. More reaching out. More meetings. More focus on all three aspects of a particular 12 step programs motto (unity, service, recovery) I have the stepwork but am epically failing and flailing at the other two. Now I could give you a laundry list of reasons why I can’t do this or that – but it’s all bullshit. It is. So… I’m chairing my homegroup the rest of the month and hitting two meetings this week and weekend. Has to be done you know.

Just doing “one” thing … never works. I can do steps til’ I’m blue in the face but if I don’t reach out to another drunk/dope fiend and give back … yeah it’s not complete. Why is this so hard for me to remember? Like an old friend coming home to call – judgment rears it’s powdered wig head. This isn’t enough … that isn’t what I need … this isn’t the right way … that isn’t going to help me.  Who the hell am I to judge what’s going to work and what’s not. If I’m so focused on what’s wrong with everything in my life – I’m never going to see what’s right.

I let myself get immersed in things. People especially. Okay who am I kidding – relationships. I suck at them. Hence the newly single status… again. *sigh* I did it to myself. I couldn’t hang. It was simply too much and I knew what I needed to do. But you see I didn’t want to … I was in love. Deeply. So much so that reality took a backseat.

I focus so damn much on what’s wrong with me. What I’m doing wrong – thinking wrong – feeling … wrong – that I sometimes don’t see the writing on the wall. Gut churns and I say “oh. this is my perception. this is my thinking gone wrong. this is my disease talking through fear.” And sometimes? Gut churning is simply that. An internal trigger saying “KNOCK IT OFF WOULD YA?”  This is where support systems come in … this is where talking things through – MATTERS. This is the unity that as an alcoholic I need.

My thinking is flawed. Now instead of being able to see what’s going on with clarity, I just try to fix it internally. Sometimes the problem is not me. (omg.) Sometimes it just IS what it IS. Flailing myself too far the other way to attempt to compensate for things outside of my control, has been identified as a HUGE character defect. (This quite possibly could be the most nonsensical blog I’ve ever written but I’m totally okay with that.) I’m hurting. I hurt someone else. But I know that I’m not that important to damage another. He’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. He’s the most wonderful man I know with an amazing recovery program and I believe in him. Whether or not he ever stops being mad at me is none of my business. It can’t be. If I think on that it just might kill me. Truth.

Relationships in recovery can suck. Major. No more numbing cream to make it all go away, every emotion felt to the fullest. The beautiful part about being sober is that I can feel it and heal and grow from all that I’ve learned; become a better woman and partner … someday. Not that I can even think about that right now when I would love to just take my heart out of my chest and stomp on it. With a sober mind and heart I know to my core that we MUST have rainy days to fully appreciate the sunlight. Truly it would be easier to sit in the dark and wallow. But I cannot. Recovery says this is so.

I need you people. As hard as that is to say/type for a sickeningly self sufficient woman to say/type … it’s the truth. It’s a grown up sorta thing to live in reality. It’s a recovery sort of thing to do the HARD work. It’d be very easy to sit in self pity or martyrdom and rant about how unfair life is or that maybe things could be different if …  feeling awful sometimes is simply part of the human condition. They’re called growing pains for a reason. This was a huge wake up call to me; if nothing else was learned from this (which there was – tons) then that lesson was more than enough.

So as I sit in the maelstrom of my melancholy/relief/sadness/realizations – I see clearly that I did not do things in a healthful way and for that I am quite sad. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do for another is walk away with grace and dignity. I had no grace and very little dignity. I ran like hell. I couldn’t trust myself to say the “goodbye” because I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to be selfish and stay when I knew it wasn’t going to work. He deserves better than that from me. So I ran. Like a coward.  I fucking hate that about me. I do. I don’t “end” anything … well. Recovery tells me that I am flawed; perfectly imperfect in my word and deed. But also that there is hope and healing in the rooms and that I don’t have to keep kicking myself today. So I’m listening to my recovery family and friends and trying to keep the size 9 boot out of my own ass. (it’s a work in progress. there are still welts)

One thing I know for sure is that I’m reconnected. And THAT? Is miraculous. Silver lining? Maybe. Necessary so that I don’t jump off the roof or stay in the fetal position? You betcha. Yes I know this was schmaltzy and overly emotional and blah blah blah … but hey that’s where I’m at. Forever after these past several months will be known as “Serendipity” to me … for I learned more of love and life than I’d ever thought possible from this man. And I’ll always love him. And … it’s okay to be sad about it. So says my sponsor, so say my friends, so says my heart.

Thanks for being here you all truly enrich my life more than you’ll ever know. And as always … I Love Recovery.

Ego-maniac with an inferiority complex. Ever heard that? What do you think it means? Is it applicable to someone you know? Perhaps you? I dunno. Let’s find out. I can tell you I used to hang my hat on this more often than not, once upon a time. Oh yes. This is my memorex memory.

Well my take on it is “I’m obsessed with myself because I’m such a loser.” or “Look at me because i’m less than you.” or “I’m so important but if you find out what a schmuck I am … you’ll hate me like I hate me.” *deep breath*

Right. Sounds ass backwards yes? Like walking into a room full of people and having them turn to look; you’re just SURE they’re picking you apart and looking at all of your flaws. Not because you’re attractive or you just made a ruckus opening the door or people are nosy… of course not … you’re just so important that everyone is taking time out of THEIR lives to focus on you. Really? Yeah. I felt that way too. A lot.

I had (sometimes still have) a fear of success. Sounds strange doesn’t it? You think with “winning” at something, one would be happy. Not always the case. Especially us ego-maniacal inferior types.  So used to looking at the world from the floor that anything else seems rather odd.

Feel me? When “good” things happen – always waiting for the other shoe to drop? Just sure that like Charlie Brown and the football, Lucy WILL pull the ball away – just like always. Past experience rearing an ugly head to impact the present.

I hate when that happens. Especially when I’m not aware of what exactly I’m doing. More often than not I catch myself  in this self sabotage mode, not always soon enough. Relationships, employers, recovery networks, et cetera et cetera; are challenged by this notion.

I must remember humility. The idea that I’m no better nor worse than anyone else. Just another traveler on the journey. Favored sayings in the rooms where I live “I compared my insides to another person’s outsides.” Meaning that not everyone shows their “stuff”; their drama and pain and insecurity. So they APPEAR okay … when maybe they’re struggling just like you.

Everyone has “stuff”. Ever talk to someone and realize your first impression was totally wrong? That your opinion of them was faulty and they say things like “I was totally scared to death.” or “nervous” or even “afraid”. And here all this time you thought they were stuck up. Shows what you know.

To wallow in disaster is a sign of the sick. To not allow some joyous be in your life is pretty self centered. You are after all just like me and everyone else walking this path of recovery.

I used to have a sponsor that would flip the script on me quite often. She’d say, “Who are you to not allow life to be good? You think you know better than a higher power? That’s ego girl. Get rid of it.” And bam – she opened my eyes to the possibility that I was the one holding my own self back.

Every once in a while I’ll do this soft shoe shuffle of “I’m not worthy.” Bleck. Who says? And if they DID say things like that, were they a reliable source?  Think about it. Hard. Those who try to put you down (including and especially yourself) are not reliable sources.

Just like things can’t ALWAYS be good, nor can things ALWAYS be bad. We all have to win sometimes yes? And quite possibly … you just might deserve a little joy and success. The scales always rise. What comes down has to come back up. Simple physics. Just being willing to look at this stuff is proof that this is so. You are looking for awareness and that? HUGE SUCCESS. I like surrounding myself with folks like you.

Just keep walking. I’ll be right beside you.