I’ve been gone for a bit, busy with merrymaking and holidays and all that a sober recovery filled season can bring. You know Santa Claus and ho ho ho and festivities with families and being up at 4 AM christmas morning with excited mini ninjas jumping on the bed yelling “CWISTMAS CWISTMAS!!!” *ahem*  Yes. That did indeed happen. I still haven’t caught up on my sleep. Totally worth every sleep deprived second. Every single one.

But I’m back now and have an itch to write like a fiend (pun totally intended). So I’ve been hearing a lot about just “doing the next right thing”.  And as my magical mystifying mind likes to do … I ponder. My gut does the internal mumbo jumbo and it just has to come out, fingertips first.

What exactly is this next “right” thing? What does it mean and why do we say it?  I know the ‘pat’ answers.  Don’t drink, go to meetings, work the steps, pray. I get that. Totally. But what if the road is murkier? What if the lights aren’t always shining clearly and you don’t know which way to turn? When both paths are difficult and it seems that your support group doesn’t know anymore than you do which way to turn?

The difficult things. The ones that require inordinate amounts of courage and fortitude to complete. I’m pretty much a pansy by nature. Truly. I don’t do lots of things well.  I have two speeds – complete bitch or doormat.  Okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration but I used to be that way all the time.

Stoicism. Suffer in silence was the creed my family of origin taught. So basically the “next right thing” was the path that focused on others instead of me.  Now that’s not always a bad thing mind you, IF balanced with healthful self esteem it’s called being unselfish.  If self worth is an issue? It’s called being a doormat. Okay I’ll take it a step further and call it “Stamping Walk On Me On My Forehead While Mouth Is Covered In Tape”. I’d say that’s pretty specific. Yes.

Swing the other way on the pendulum, which I’ve done a time or twenty and it’s “Screw you people and your feelings and concerns. Imma do me.”  No. No. No. This is the opposite of aforementioned pansy-ass-ish-ness.

Balancing tight rope act to do the “right” thing for others as well as myself.  Treacherous ground really. How do you know for sure? You don’t. Your body can give you clues when something doesn’t fit. Headaches, anxiety, chest pains, and the like … your body KNOWS what’s up.  Definitely listen to internal signs. Best way to do this? Meditate. Take some calm time to be still and listen.

And most times our support system will give us sage advice. If they’re worth their salt they’ll not lecture but leave the result up to you.  For honestly? Falling on our faces is part of the growing process. (oh i like that sentence. lots.)

If we don’t make mistakes we don’t experience the true value of knowing what fits and what doesn’t.  You’re simply NOT going to please everyone. It’s not possible.  People are going to get pissed and moan at you and that’s okay. Really. Not the end of the world EVEN THOUGH it may feel like it.

I screw up all the time.  Rather good at it really. Mistake maker from way back, I do lots that doesn’t necessarily fit with who I want to be today.  Every once in a great while I hit on the money honey and it feels like heaven on earth.  That great big huge sigh of relief so that lets you know YES! THIS … is what it’s supposed to feel like.

So. I fall on my face. Often. I’m totally okay with that. (okay partially okay. shush.) Without it those sweet moments of “fitting” wouldn’t be quite so sweet.  I DO know that I don’t intentionally hurt people today. Still working on the not hurting myself part. *shrug* It’s a work in progress.

The next “right” thing might be housed right behind that “wrong” thing that happened. OMG I do NOT do well with these judgment monikers. Blah.  But you catch my drift. I hope. Yes. You are smart folks, you blog reading types.

I’m glad to be back in the writing chair again. Missed it and you guys. I know all the way down to my tip of my tippy toes that this is the “next write thing”. haha.

Oh and happy get ready for 2011 and all that malarky. New beginnings come easier for us drunks and dopefiends. Every single day is a new day for magic. Be well this day lovely recovery friends. Any day in recovery is a step in the direction of “win”.

(and remember the very best gift you can give … is YOU!)

Hold your head up high in the knowledge that you are in recovery today.  Know that whatever this season holds for you; you are able to see with clear eyes and an open heart.  Not alone.  Never alone. Never have to be again.  I am utterly failing at holding back tears of gratitude, running down my blushing cheeks.  For last Christmas was a far cry from happy.  This past year has brought me gifts that I cannot even begin to describe (yet).

We are the walking wounded, beginning to heal. The ones who know the dark of the spirit, so can fully appreciate the warmth of the rising sun.  Gratitude and blessings are our companions if we so choose them to be.  It’s all about the gifts this year and if you’re willing to receive them.  Believe in your inner beauty and you will be amazed at the response you’ll receive.  You have the ability to bring light in your life and as a result the lives of others.

This is what we are here for.  Love and be loved.  Love you and you can love others.  Love you and love comes back to you.  It’s a karma thing baby.  Be one with the spirit of the universe and know … that I love you.  For you are me, making up the great WE.  One plus one equals ONE.  Be blessed this holiday.

When my daughter Vikki was five years old and Christmas was coming I would tease her playfully. I would tell her how lucky she was to be able to expect so much for Christmas. Remembering stories told me by my depression-era parents, I’d tell her “when I was your age, we were so poor, all I got for Christmas was a rock and a stick.”

Over the days the warnings came that she might only get a rock and a stick; and if she got more she was a blessed child indeed.

On Christmas day there were 200 1981 dollars worth of toys and treasures under the tree. After all the shiny pretty things were opened, two odd shaped packages remained. Yes, as a joke, I’d found an old stick about a foot long and a chunk of old brick about the size of a fist. Vikki got her rock and her stick.

Over the next couple of weeks, toys fell by the wayside. Dishes were lost from tea sets, little mechanical whatzits snick-snacked to a halt, dolls lost hair, eyes and limbs. Soon all the bright and beautiful trifles ands trinkets were gone or simply cast aside. But the rock andd stick remained.

Only the rock and stick were always returned to the cardboard carton that served as my baby girl’s toy box. Only the rock and stick were played with every day. Only the rock and stick were treated as real treasures.

Over the next few months the rock and stick became insturments of magic. I watched Vikki use them as a spaceship, a stove on which to prepare food for honored imaginary guests,a drum, a crystal ball and even a witches cauldron ( where’d she get THAT?).

In 1982 we moved from Milwaukee to California. When we sorted through what we could take and what we would leave behind old books, pretty dresses and ALL old toys were givenaway or discarded;the rock and stick came with us. We shuffled between relatives houses before we got our ownplace. Sometimes in a move somthing would be left behind, some of them seemed to me to be important things. Vikki would just shrug it off and say “it’s okay daddy, i don’t need it.” But, she always remembered her rock and stick.

Years passed, my daughter grew. Oh she’s always been so beautiful. Soon dolls and tea sets and the ornaments of childhood fell by the wayside: “Daddy! Toys are for kids”.

Her tastes changed, her interests changed, we moved three more times withing the “Inland Empire” of southern California. And she always lugged along that old rock and stick. Each time we pack and I’d notice it and laugh “Vikki, you still have this old rock and stick?” She’d shrug and say “Oh, i just never got around to throwing it out”, and leave it at that.

The last move within the golden state was in 1992. I was newly sober and still shakey, wondering if I could do it. Vikki was my number one cheerleader, always reminding me I could. She was no longer my “little” girl. She had become a beautiful young woman, 18 years old with all the possibilities and promises of youth laid out before her.

In that last move, either her mother or I had finally tossed out the old gag gift that Vikki had never remembered to throw away. A few days later Vikki came to me, upset about something and with scared eyes asked “Daddy, have you or mommy seen my rock and stick.”

I said “Baby, we threw that old stuff out when we moved”

“Why?”

“We didn’t think you wanted it anymore”

“Daddy, that was MY rock and stick.” She sighed and with a sad look went in her room and softly closed her door. I went in my room and did the same.

I don’t know if Vikki cried in her room. I cried in mine.

Ronald P.

I challenge you to share your stories of hope, faith, joy, love, growth from pain … etc etc.  Let’s give a little back to  those who just might need a reason to celebrate.  This goes for people who are in recovery from ANYTHING here … (gambling, drugs, alcohol, sex, another person, etc …) and for the people who love us recovering folk.

Stop by, write a comment, drink a cup of cheer. Or hot chocolate … but cheer doesn’t make my ass bigger.  Wait!!!  I hear big asses are in style this year … whatever.

I will post them ALL, write me a story, tell me all about it, send it here, or at soberandsassy@yahoo.com. TELL me … TELL US … we will listen.

Share a gift with another.  The gift of compassion and love. The gift of YOU.

We’ll be waiting.

Exactly what is important right now? PERSPECTIVE is important.  REMEMBERING who you are … is important.  Ask yourself these things: who am I? what’s most important right now? what are my choices today?  Lemme give you my answers to these questions : 1. I’m a woman of grace, in recovery, doing the best I can with what I have. 2. Most important is my self concept and recovery. Without this I’m unable to “be” anything else. 3. Today I’m choosing life, peace, contentment, being a loving parent, and the best me I’m able to.

Who cares if there’s no money? MAKE a freakin present. Spend TIME with your babies, if you’re able.  If not write them a story, color them a picture, send it to them whether they can receive it or not.  You’re a parent ALL the time, regardless if you’re present or not.  Positive energy will find them and they will know, deep down, that you’re there.  (There will be no presents from Mommy under the Sassy christmas tree.  I’m okay with this. I’m grateful that there will be presents for them to open, even if they’re not from me.)  More importantly, be there for you.  Take the time to do the things YOU like.  Be it watching movies all day in your jammies, making christmas cookies and eating every last one, putting on that short skirt and goin to a Christmas party with some recovering folk.

Alone for the holidays?? You don’t have to be.  Hitting a meeting, holiday parties recovery style, talking to others in the same situation is healing and self preserving.  Extended recovery family many times can be closer than biological.  Let people care about you! If you don’t you’re depriving people and being selfish.  YES, I said selfish.  It’s good to give, this is true; but having the ability to RECEIVE love is a gift as well.  Know how good it makes you feel to give??? You gonna deprive someone of feelin that way by not lettin’ them love you?  Think of others dork.

If this isn’t the best holiday season … SO WHAT.  Pain can bring growth and impetus for change.  You can deal with some serious issues right now and get the gift of self awareness from Santa this year.  Gifts of light and peace will surely follow.  Not everything is what it seems you know.  Crying is a gift. Healing a bigger one.  Let yourself light the channukah candles of truth for eight crazy nights.  Treat yourself as gently as the babe in the manger, if that’s your flavor.

You are precious. You are a Christmas present, wrapped in red and green and gold bows, sprinkled with joy and hope and love.  Give yourself a gift this year … the gift of YOU.  Be gentle with yourself and know that you don’t have to use to be okay. IT will be okay.  And when you really get down to it, it’s just another day. Except for the fat man and people singing songs bout an Aramaic baby.  It will pass and you’ll be the better for it.