Rest assured that I chose that; sure as I choose to
open my eyes in the morning. Not initially. But I knew.
On a subconscious, where God talks to me level, I sure
as shit knew better. This makes it my responsibility.
MY choices. Me, mine, my. This list is long:

- a life free of fear
- filled with joyous gratitude for EVERY experience
- maintaining focus on what’s really important
- acting and not knee jerking myself into asshat-ism
- practicing compassion in word and deed
- taking healthful risks and being “vulnerable”
- congruency (neat word look it up if ya don’t know)
- being my highest thought

(I could go on for days here … I believe you to be
smart people and you get the gist here)

POSITIVE energy. Like attracts like. The infinite Law
of Attraction. I sooo dig what I’m attracting these days.
It is a mirror for me. A gauge of sorts, if I choose
to have the eyes to see.

Today I choose differently. I “see”; am aware. No longer
in denial of my worth. No longer blinded by the bullshit
lies of others who are clogged with pain and despair. I
weep for those filled with this idea of scarcity. NOT
ENOUGH: love, life, money, hope, “stuff”, bullshit.
We are what we create. Create … an abundant you. Filled
with light and love. THAT is who you really are when it
comes down to the meat and red skins.

Living a life of abundance, manifesting joy and opportunity
is my new gig. No blaming others. In my innermost struggle;
the internal dichotomy is changing. Positive, beneficial
is being seen around every corner; even in what most view
as “bad”.

It’s all in how you frame it … spin it … view it …
embrace it … internalize … it. Can YOU differentiate
between the true and the false? Do YOU know your highest
self? I so want that for you. Come with me and let’s
do this dance of truth together. I got mad skills and
dancin is my “thang”. Foxtrot, waltz, crip walk, hustle,
pop and lock my ass. I’m a great partner and my dance card
needs filling. Let’s be real … together.

Whether happy, sad, angry, lost.  Feel it to the core of who you are.

Allow yourself the respect to be just where you are.

Be gentle with you.

Take care of your needs. Bubble baths, lay in bed, stay in your jammies all day.  Drink hot cocoa and gaze at your Christmas tree. Even if you’re alone; you’re in good company.  Take a walk in the crisp snow, make a snow angel, throw a snowball or two or ten.  If it’s warm where you are, go to the beach and breathe the saltiness. See a movie,   buy a trinket cause you like it, treat yourself to you.  Work out, meditate, stretch and feel the physical presence of you. Remember that if you don’t like yourself; no one else will.  Caress your own cheek, arm, neck, legs. Explore the gorgeousness of physicality.

Do you even know how amazing you are? Deep down? Underneath the crud of perception? People can freak about being alone. I like me, dig the moments of “me” time.  Find your center, light a candle, be still and open to find out who you really are. To breathe and feel and be and bask in the glory of Amy.  Make myself laugh; gentle lover in the climax of what is … me.  Waves of orgasmic self realization course through my spirit. You can do this too.  Allow your inner love to shine and be passionate about the reflection.

It’s time. If you’re reading this, it is time. Be.  Dig.  LOVE. Get off … on you.

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.

That is the most insane sounding thing
I’ve (almost) ever written. Why the hell
would something good … feel not so?
Joy overwritten by dusty old tapes
ingrained by raps on the heart from a mean
nun with a razor ruler.

Self sabotage manifesting in a million
ways; picking, smacking, biting, sniping
right below the surface.  Shouldn’t,
wouldn’t,  what if,  who’s gonna,  love it,
hate it,  love me,  hate me … blech.
I know better.  I do.  But, I’m sure I’m
not alone in this,  when being attacked
by this on all sides reasoning goes out the window.

DAMMIT. SHUT UP ALREADY.

SHUT  OFF AND LEAVE ME BE.

This year … has not been the best year.
Filled with barely keeping my nose above
water moments. Courage barely beating out
breakdowns mental health style. Claw marks
and cat fights with insurance agents and home
foreclosure attorneys. Night after night of
crying myself to sleep, lost but not using
no matter what.

Flip the script and see … hours spent by
my person (people now.  Amazingly, I have more
than just one.  Still counted with less than five
digits but wow talk about amazing) I love
you and thank you for the days on end where you
sustained me.  Courage, strength, fortitude, gut
level survival instinct with a sober slant.
Knowledge gained from the very bowels of the
worst smelling shit life can throw at us.  I flip
it, remember who I am and do the WORK.

No matter what.  I do it. Continue.  It’s okay.

Take action.  Write it,  speak it,  read it,  strike
a pose,  run around the living room,  kiss a mini
ninja,  be still,  know the truth,  BE THE TRUTH.

There.  I pat myself on the head.  Now isn’t that better?
Remember.  Who i am.   I am afraid but I shall do it anyway.
I AM enough.  I am my own best friend.

Old tapes gone … for the moment.

New message.  Under the skin.