Relationships. Oh lawd we could have a twenty part series about relationships and recovery. (and just might)  The idea that we are going to shine a light on falls into the – What Are We Attracting? category. Otherwise known as Water Seeks It’s Own Level or Damn You Did It Again? As my divorce attorney so lovingly pointed out … “You picked him.”  Yeah. I spose I did.

Firstly let’s look at the “who” we are attracting concept.  Regardless of recovery status there are sick folks. Duh. Yes. You know this. I know this. Everyone seems to know this.  But put that fella (or girl) in a nice package with just the RIGHT kind of sick?  And oh … my … god … flames spark an interesting romance choice.

Hindsight is always perfect vision-esque and in looking back on MY past (out of kindness we’ll call them) experiences, every single one of my relationships tapped into some drama that I had been used to in my past.  Confusing you say? (loosely translated from WTF does THAT mean Sass?)  Example.  Personal of course, otherwise it means a whole lot of nothing.

• We’ll use my marriage since it’s the most glaring example. There are others, if you’d like to know message me and I’ll tell you all about it. Bring tea and tissues.   I knew. I knew knew knew knew … that I was making a mistake.  And did it anyway. Ever done that one? Simply known that this was the wrong person for you, but stayed anyhow?  My family stuff, mostly Mom stuff got triggered (kachow) and it was on.  What’s my “mom” stuff you ask?
• Well (I’ll be brief) … Mom and Dad too really – never approved of anything. Ever. I mean not ever.  I had to make up for a handicapped (don’t use the word retard around me please) brother who was always ill.  I was never skinny enough, smart enough, body shame, the interests I had weren’t okay (theater, art, etc).  Case in point, I’m a writer now and even THAT isn’t enough for Mom. Still.  It’s “I think you should write a book about your daughters. I don’t like all that other stuff you write.”   Now as a grown person I totally GET why she is … why she is.  And it’s okay.
• The issue is, the way we’re raised impacts our relationships.  Whether you admit or even know it … or not.  I chose a man who (oh i don’t wanna freakin say this) was just like my mom. Eww. I know right.  The “not good enough” theme was a constant.  Because THAT’S what I was used to.  Some people don’t know these things about ourselves. But I did.  I knew it after two months of dating and he laughed at me while I cried.  I knew it after he started dissing my hair and makeup and clothing choices. I knew. Hell yes I did.  No victim. Not even a little. I chose this.  Albeit, it was what I knew. So in essence I knew that I knew that I knew. (holyshit)
• (have I mentioned lately how much I love these bullets?)
• (lots)
• (okay back to the blog-ish)

I had always managed to find relationships IN RECOVERY … that replayed that tape.  We are indeed a culmination of our experiences.  If you’ve never looked at your past in your stepwork, try it now.  It’s a kick really.  You’ll see the lightbulb flash.  Now funny thing.  Every relationship was even looked on as fail from controlling parental units. Even the good ones.

Once a controller has their claws in you (be it family or partner) they don’t let go easily. It’s all in the eye rolls people. Uncomfortable.  Flaw pointing has been spoon fed to me since birth.  Always a “what’s wrong with Amy discussion”. Truly could go on for pages bout this.  It’s in a twenty page word doc called “The Martyr who Loved Me.” But not gonna.  It’s not the point.

The POINT is … we are what we have been taught. That until we work a program of recovery to get rid of and understand all of our patterns of behavior, nothing will change.   We will still make bad choices and attract sick like a moth to a flame.   All my exes weren’t from Texas, just the ex husband (aka Prince Charming-less and that last line upon re-reading it … was disturbingly random. I shall keep it.)

Those around us that love and care for our well being, in our recovery family or family of origin (if they’re relatively healthy), can SEE things we can’t.  They see our patterns of behavior, know our past, and get the connection between the two.  Usually they don’t hesitate to question, especially if new in recovery. “Oh he has a week sober? He didn’t MEAN to punch the door? She accidentally fell in bed with another man?”  Raised eyebrows abound.

If you are attracted to someone sick based on their potential … the game is already lost kids.  We cannot make anyone change. Like it or not, you have issues that you desperately need to address.  Until you can get the “crap” outta the way … you’ll continue on with your dangerous dancing patterns.  And trust me they get exponentially worse.  So the next time you utter the words … “Ya but if you just really knew him…” REMEMBER … Maybe we do. Maybe we WERE him or have BEEN with a person of the same ilk or some variation thereof.  Recovery folks are sometimes our eyes where we are blind.

Just recognize the idea that maybe you can’t see.

It was all of the touchy-feely goodness that you might expect.  Think Stuart Smalley on Saturday Night Live. My what a lovely sweater Stuart. (link. imma have to discuss this lack of colored linkage with the “man”)  I’m good enough, smart enough, and doggone it people like me. *grin*  That being said there were some lessons to be learned.

Control Patterns in Unhealthy Relationships

• I believe most people are incapable of taking care of themselves. (umm duh)
• I attempt to convince others what to think, do, or feel. (well of course)
• I freely offer advice and direction to others without being asked.
• I become resentful when others decline my help or reject my advice. (don’t you know who i am? fer shitsakes?)
• I use sexual attention to gain approval and acceptance. (who doesn’t do THAT?)
• I have to be needed in order to have a relationship with others. (that one doesn’t apply. i don’t think)
• I demand that my needs be met by others. (agree with me dammit)
• I use charm and charisma to convince others of my capacity to be caring and compassionate. (i do not! bats eyelashes furiously)
• I use blame and shame to emotionally exploit others.  (stupid CoDA literature. it’s a lie!)
• I refuse to cooperate, compromise, or negotiate. (blatantly)
• I adopt an attitude of indifference, helplessness, authority, or rage to manipulate outcomes. (don’t forget sarcastic snarkiness)
• I use terms of recovery in an attempt to control the behavior of others. (c’mere and let me shove those slogans down your … or up your … or in your … live and let live. now smile dammit)
• I pretend to agree with others to get what I want. (of course i do)

As funny as this all is … it’s *ahem* disturbingly accurate.  We want what we want when we want how we want how many times we want in the order we want with WHOM we want.  And interestingly enough it’s just not for drunks and dope fiends kids.  LOTS of folks have these kinds of behaviors (my martyr mother is a good example. but i won’t bore you with the “get off the cross we need the wood Ma” stories)

Whenever there is an unhealthy attachment and one person can’t begin to tell where they stop and the other begins … red flag time.  NO one can MAKE you feel a certain way. Transversely we cannot, no matter HOW hard we try, make someone FEEL: better, worse, happy, sad, sexy, angry, joyful, yadda, yadda, and again yadda.  We strive for INTERDEPENDENCY :

Interdependence is a dynamic of being mutually and physically responsible to, and sharing a common set of principles with others. This concept differs distinctly from “dependence” in that an interdependent relationship implies that all participants are emotionally, economically, ecologically and or morally “interdependent.” Some people advocate freedom independence as a sort of ultimate good; others do the same with devotion to one’s family, community, or society. Interdependence recognizes the truth in each position and weaves them together. (thank you wiki wiki wiki … another link … good grief)

A mingling,  separate yet joined.  Cheesy 80′s song moment “Hold on loosely … But don’t let go”.  Thank you 38 Special I think you are SOOOO right. The twelve steps of any program you’re currently in can address these issues obviously (duh SillySassySoberGirl. we KNOW.)  K. So when you find yourself basing your thoughts and feelings on someone else’s approval OR trying to force someone else to think and act your way. Umm. QUIT IT. Try something completely different. Look at your behaviors.  And do your very best to simply be yourself. There’s no one else who can do that you know. Be you. Ask Dr. Seuss, he knows.  Oh the Places You’ll Go… (this is a link. sheesh. oh webmaster? colored LINKS please!)

Think about the classic “bubble” example … Put your arms out to make a bubble in front of you … COME ON DO IT … okay. Now THIS … is your personal space.  When someone trespasses on that without permission … say HOLDONAMINUTEHEREBUB. Or? Ask yer sponsor. He/She knows your crap better than I do. Better than you do too. Oh yeah. And there’s that whole inventory thingamajig that helps with personal relationships. Revisit that.  Work a step you ask? YES. It’s all in your recovery book of choice. Just do everyone a favor okay? Don’t be a Stuart Smalley. At least in public. Okay maybe just a little … but leave out the doggone it. You’ll date yourself.

This is not all a bad thing. Ask my facebook chums and they’ll tell you I bring my own special brand of sweet cyni-skepticality to my everyday internet interactions.  However … when it comes to the recovery process I follow a basic philosophy.  Be optimistically positive and all that that … entails. Now I’m not talking some Pippy Longstocking Pig Tailed wide-eyed gullible always smiling ditzy never dark or crying – cockamamie crap.  Positive in the way that whether the glass is half empty or half full … the idea that there is a glass at all is amazing in and of itself.  I believe the book that is blue (yes that one) states in discussing the fourth step states on page 66 and 67 …

• If we were to live, we had to be free from anger. The grouch and the brainstorm were not for us. They may be the dubious luxury of normal men, but for alcoholics these things are poison…
• This was our course: We realized that the people who wronged us were perhaps spiritually sick. Though we did not like their symptoms and the way these disturbed us, they, like ourselves, were sick too. We asked God to help us show them the same tolerance, pity, and patience we would cheerfully grant a sick friend. When a person offended we said to ourselves, “This is a sick man. How can I be helpful to him? God save me from being angry. Thy will be done.”
• We avoid retaliation or argument. We wouldn’t treat sick people that way. If we do, we destroy our chance of being helpful. We cannot be helpful to all people, but at least God will show us how to take a kindly and tolerant view of each and every one.

(as always God is defined by yours truly as whatever you need it to be. I’m sooo not a religious gal.  Use great spirit, allah, buddha, a dishtowel, collective unconscious, 12 step groups, or your great Uncle Al with the weird mustache. Spiritual sluttism is always win.)

Hmm.  I had to look up the word grouch because all I could see in my transient minds eye was a green muppet in a garbage can.  Of course my favorite Sesame Street character.  So my friend Merriam whispered the definition to me  — grouch (intransitive verb) :

1. a : a fit of bad temper b : grudge, complaint
2. a habitually irritable or complaining person : grumbler

Somewhere. Someday. Somehow. Someone will appreciate the ultimate non dark, lack of mysterious, sunny side up, dippy egged, easy laughter and pigtails … that is me.

I found out … they do. I do. It does. (huh?) A little sunny in the disposition never hurt a girl. Positive. NOT a dirty word. Goth and Emo are so last year.  So I’ve thrown away my black fingernail polish (never the eyeliner though … as if) and I’mma simply stay congruent to who I am.  As I cogently tell myself over and over, Amy you don’t do grouchy well at all.  Good thing.

Most times, we don’t even realize it’s happened.  It has become “familiar i.e. “normal” (ugh I despise that word. that’s why I’m using it – triggering my comfort zone is a healthy challenge. I shall be writing after this as to why this word makes me … all cringey. also applicable to the word “normie“. bleck. what the hell does THAT mean anyway? ) to practice recovery behaviors to the point they become innate.  Now THAT? Is damn cool right there. Remember the time when you thought you’d never ever GET this thing?  Overwhelmed and understimulated, feeling that it could never work? Okay, I’m projecting. I felt that way lots.

I’m a cognitive behavioral freak.  Meaning I work daily to address the whole “what evidence do I have to support that” line of thought.  My (I love the whole “claiming” thing we do in recovery – makes it personal yanno?) Sponso, Bff, sista in recovery and I discussed … okay I ranted she listened calmly like she does – in my mind I call her Serenity Personified – I do – cause’ she is – … the whole idea of how amazing it is to NOT see the world as a dim place.  That there’s an answer. Decrease in rigidity equals increase in equanimity (the quality of remaining calm, serene, or unruffled, esp. under stress; composure – thank you Mr. Webster). The idea that there is a way to not only recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body; but that there is a higher quality of life that can be achieved through such self discovery. I so dig that.

You know I’ve been in AA since I was nineteen, barring the year of the relapse, and a couple years before leading up to the hellish experience.  I grew up here; around the ideals, beliefs, attitudes, values, and norms presented in a 12 step recovery program.  I count myself as fortunate.  As it so happens, I have a large community of friends who aren’t in recovery. What some call “normies” (eww that word gives me shivers)  This is new also.  Before my epic-win-of-a-marriage *eye roll* I was an Addictions Counselor for nigh near a decade; and I went to meetings. All my friends were in recovery or about recovery and on a path of self discovery.  It’s all I’d known. Through and throughout a recovery focused life that I largely took for granted.  Recovery = Normal.

Now I’m introduced to the big bad world of lots of folks who don’t (or do – hell i dunno) have addiction issues, I find that the common thread of human frailty permeates all.  In the spirit of CIRCULAR THINKING, I have found that most people have a difficult time acknowledging the need to challenge their beliefs. Live a life examined. To seek out the how and the why of it all and change what needs to be changed.  I hear all the time, ANYONE can benefit from the 12 steps.  I believe that to be true.  Rigidity, all or nothing thinking appears to be a prevalent issue.  Feelings easily hurt, paranoid thinking, easily offended … well that describes lots of folks. NOT just us drunks/dope fiends.  Normies (ugh) and Drunkies and Druggies and any other groups ending in “es” have the same issues.  Not all of us talk about it the same or are taught that through the naming and claiming of such horror … some of the power can be taken away from it.

It hits me sometimes. Hard. That I’ll say something recovery style and someone NOT in recovery will retort “Wow. I’d never thought of that.” or “Dang that makes sense.” Yeah. You betcha. We have a wonderful way of life people. Don’t take it for granted.  We certainly don’t corner the market on pain, but it seems we may have found a solution for such pain – no matter what the cause.  I’m a grateful drunk tonight. A grateful woman.  No better or worse than any other person, in recovery or not.  We have such a beautiful gift.  I believe we are meant to share it with the world. By our actions and behaviors. BE an example of recovery to all around you. Live a life fully awake and play in the awareness playground. You never know when someone will need it.  We are all fellow travelers in this journey.  Give it away to keep it … but first you gotta “get” it.  That, however, is another topic entirely and would make for an excellent blog post. Hmmmm.

Humility as not proud or arrogant I totally get.  Pride can be toxic and arrogance, well that just speaks for itself methinks.  Assertiveness, (dictionary again) being bold and/or confident doesn’t seem so bad and having deference (respect and esteem due a superior or an elder; also : affected or ingratiating regard for another’s wishes) is always a fun choice.  But the word submissive makes the blondes at the back of the neck stand up a smidge.  Words are interesting no?

Most of my using was encapsulated in humiliation and my efforts to drown or hide from such a state.  I did things while drunk that could curl hair or at least make most grown folk frown simply at the mention.  Perilous, ill thought out choices wrought from sick thinking sludged into a bottle of Captain Morgan.  Yeah hitting on the neighbor as I was pissing myself at my own pool party was probably a bad choice.  So was drinking around my children. And then there was the staying in a horrifying abusive marriage. Yep. Humiliation was my bosom friend.

Flash backward years before, during the dozen plus three years of sobriety, and how I learned what humble was.  When I realized that I wasn’t the complete center of the universe and that the entire cosmos wasn’t thinking I was the worst screw up in the world. (the whole egomaniac with the inferiority complex shtick. yes. you know you’ve heard it).  That I was part of something “bigger” than me, that there even was something “bigger”, and that I not only didn’t have to have all the answers but I was praised for simply being real. Flash forward to the last two years plus of non imbibing and re-entry into the rooms?  Humility is even bigger.  Not sponsoring a gazillion girls and NOT having to comment every meeting and NOT being a circuit speaker.  Simply just being. Sober. Like a breath of fresh air baby.

Whew. Huge diff no? Step Seven  “Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings” (him, her, it, they, them … it matters not … just ask).  Meaning, in deference to something bigger than me … help me change these sick things that I do, think, feel.  I’m not alpha and omega, the be all end all, I DON’T have to have all the answers and it’s okay to not be those things.  None of us are. But together we make up a colorful tapestry of recovery.  There’s magic in that. Tons.

In this sassy girl’s estimation (and I’m sure you’ll correct me if I’m wrong) being humble allows for self esteem. It allows for loving yourself and feeling good about who you are. What humility does NOT allow for is feeling superior or better than … because truly – we are all beautiful souls of the universe.  I love and like me but you know what BECAUSE I like and love me … I love and like you too.  Beauty within and beauty without.  WE make that possible. Whew.  Pretty mind blowing concept no?

So I’ll celebrate you and you me, and together we’ll embark on this journey in humility. (I’mma poet. Can’t help it.)  Humbly, arm and arm, we’ll trudge along this road of happy destiny.  That sounds familiar. Anyway, I have school lunches to prepare and love notes to write to my daughters for their first day of school.  And I’m humble enough to admit … I’m exhausted and cranky.  So with that I remain …

Humbly Yours,

SassySoberGirl

So tonight, I’m simply going to tell you a story. About my relationships with my sisters.  My family of choice.  About sticking with the women … of recovery.

There was once a young girl I knew. Well I was young also. Okay we were young and young in recovery … together.  She was bright and beautiful and amazing. I was best friends with her brother (who was also in recovery who I had a crush on omg) and her father was also in the rooms.  Her father had taken her and her brother to meetings since she was able to remember.  She knew exactly where to go when the proverbial “kaka” hit the fan.  Seeing as I was around and a friend of the family, it was her logical assumption that I’d be a good sponsor.

I can tell you I always felt inadequate. She had such a grace and subtlety about her which attracted the world to her in a way I’d never seen.  Guided through 12 steps with, thank g-d, the big book as our manual; we managed to get through it all together.  Sounding board, for she already knew most of her answers, I had no “advice” to give.  Wasn’t my job anyhow.  I did that whole “sponsor as mommy counselor” show. Ended very badly btw.

There was a moment in time where I sponsored ten girls at once.  Some can do it. I can’t.  Not a good multitasker, found out the hard way.  See once I began giving my “opinion” on things and spouting what I thought someone should do, I therefore became responsible for the outcome … somehow.  So after multiple “firings” (I despise that word actually … no one hired me) in a cluster of young peoples AA drama (imagine that?), I transitioned into a new phase of recovery.  This young girl … transitioned with me. K … back to the story.

I got the greatest gift from her. Never really told her so … until now. All those years ago, sixteen if I’m counting correctly.  Had the gift of watching her grow in recovery and in life, get married, have beautiful children.  Then it was my turn to do the marriage/family gig, and I was not so graceful; culminating in my relapse after 15 years sober story.  Blah. No rehashing.  Point is, I let that relationship go.  Lost touch and lost in shame and lost in “she can’t see me this way”.

I’m not sure if she knows but she was the best friend I ever had.   She sponsored me in more ways than I ever did for her, and now?  I see her at Founders Day and we talk every once in awhile on facebook; but it seems that time has made a mockery of me.  She’s everything I ever wanted to be and then some.  There are few people in life that I admire.  She is one and my current bff sponsor is another.

They both have that quiet dignity and calm that seems to elude me.  Serenity I believe it’s called. Current sponso-though she doesn’t think so … helps me in so many ways.  I’m a hard sell.  Not a joiner. Adore people and bask in the sunlight of recovery but it takes an awful lot to get and STAY close.  Pretty sure I’m not alone in this.  So … Kat (sponse) holds on loosely.  Let’s me be me.  Knows that I’ll always be around.  Surprisingly I’m not an “in your face” kinda chick.  She gets me.  Just like I “got” Liz.  Complete acceptance.  No matter what.  Transcending sponsor/sponsee into a familial like embrace. She literally held my hand two years ago when I was beaten like a dog.  Fed me the gift of life again and, in her elegant way, dispelled my shame.

With the two women that I’ve mentioned in this little ditty, I’ve connected in ways I’d never imagined. Strengthening me, succoring me, seeing me as equal. And I did/do the same in return.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced unconditional in quite that way, before them.  Sisters in recovery. Let the cycle continue. I always miss you Liz, I’m so proud of who you are. And Kat … I thank the powers that be for you every single day.  Words can’t express my gratitude for you … and that’s saying a lot coming from a word whore such as myself.

Girls rule.

There is a great beauty in emotion and the expressing of such things.  Tears can bond people for an eternity, a few words of compassion for suffering can change lives.  Rain has to fall – for flowers to bloom – so that we can pick them – and watch them wither – leaving us in anticipation of – the next batch of flowers – to come our way. It’s a cyclical thing. Think peaks and valleys, there is exquisite in both.

Now if you’re anything like this dope fiend/drunk, emotions were something that I didn’t share much.  I thought.  They came out regardless.  Mostly in anger which is a cover anyhow.  Scathing sarcasm is indicative of this as is passive aggressive behavior.  Not coming out and emoting in a healthy way but leaking with the sick of repression.

To be fair, I didn’t know how.  “You’re so sensitive. Why do you cry all the time? Buck up and deal kid.” were family mantras of so long ago.  I can’t even imagine telling my three blonde headed ninjas such things.  Crying is healing and important.  It lets off the pressure (whatever THAT might be) and allows for physical release of emotional stress.  Without a vehicle for expression, emotions turned inward can destroy.

Now. Seriously. I’m not an alcoholic because I couldn’t express my emotions.  I believe that is pretty normal among the human species.  Alcoholics and addicts DO NOT CORNER THE MARKET ON PAIN.  Sorry. I know we like to think we’re terminally unique.  But we’re simply not. Show me an example of a perfectly healthy family.  I dare you.  Where every single time every parent does everything right in every way every day … yeah.  Not happenin.  But some families teach more coping skills than others.  Mine? Not so much.  Of course not their fault because they’re subconsciously simply teaching what they were taught.  Now… enter substances.  Not only does my body do the happy dance because it just simply “FITS” but I’ve found my coping skill baby.  Don’t-give-a-shit-ism via cheap beer and skunk weed.  I was a teen shushit.  (To see more about physiological addiction see prior sassy blog post called Relapse Just the basics maam’ http://iloverecovery.com/2009/12/11/relapse-part-uno/.)

I stop feeling. Completely. Other than angry, saucy, and perhaps horny. (what? it’s true) And even those “feelings” are suspect.  Add on years of addictive unhealthy behavior on top of NOT feeling the consequences.  Forgettaboutit. Sunk.  We crawl into the rooms a hot mess in a dress. Figuratively speaking. I wore short shorts.  Either crying all the time or stoicism from hell, vacillated between the two for quite a bit of time.  Then here come these “suggestions” in the form of step work, sharing, opening up without being judged (thank your deity of choice) … and healing begins.

The secret to all this, which really isn’t so secret after all, is being real.  That it’s simply okay to be human.  We have a real issue with this.  Expectations to be somewhere we’re not, to be strong, to have all the answers; block us every time.  Is it strong really to lie? It takes so much damn courage to cry that it takes my breath away when I see someone letting all their defenses down.  Amazing and beautiful and poignant and oozing recovery.

There is much dignity and grace in simply being. No good or bad or wrong or right in feeling what you’re feeling.  I know what you’re thinking … just don’t get stuck in it right??? Right.  THAT is where emotional intelligence comes in; you feel what you need to feel and THEN you move on.  If you have a problem knowing when that “when” is?  I’m sure your sponsor will let you know.  Mine does. And if there is no one to tell you that? Message me and we’ll be all about it k?  Cause’ I know there is healing … in the feeling. I can hang.

Self control??? Are you freakin’ kidding me? All this time people in recovery spout about how we HAVE no power, to give it ALL to G-D (or whatever deity floats your spiritual skipper).  Ahem.  Let me be so bold. So bold to state that we DO indeed have a modicum of choice in this matter of being in recovery.  We all have “made a decision”, “launched on a course of vigorous action”, “continued to take personal inventory”.  You get the idea. Good lord I hope you do anyway.  (the BOLD words are verbs by the by. VERB = ACTION = CHOICE. just sayin.)

Now that that little bit of debauchery has been addressed. Let me tell you a short story.  The short part being my seven year old daughter aka Mini Ninja Ella B.  As we were finishing up our evening, getting ready for the week ahead by changing the sheets and putting away laundry;  we discussed the metaphysical idea of “enough”.  “How do you know enough is enough Mom?”  (I flippin’ LOVE it when she talks that way … she is SO my teacher).  “What do you mean exactly dollface?” I reply, knowing that something gooooooood is about to take place.

She launches into this rather astounding ideology of how too much of a good thing, always isn’t so good.  Her biggest example was our pool and dare I say it …  summer.  “You know Mommy, when we first get the pool ready and swim everyday and the sun always shines so bright and it’s fun and we eat popsicles and stay up late and … and … and … *pause for breath*.  I’m ready for fall Mom. I wanna feel the cool on my face and kick the leaves.  Smell you baking pies and wear footy pajamas (awww).”  I tell you, this girl is one sharp character.  I bow to the teachings of the Mini Ninja … and I’m not even lyin’.

After our tirade of made up stories about ninja princesses and the unicorn rebellion, a kiss on the cheeks and a blown kiss for good measure; she leaves me with this.  “Sometimes a little bit of something is better than all the time right? If you have it all the time, it’s not quite as special.” I pick my jaw up and gently shut the door.

Now really. In our alcoholic/addict addled brains, do we do the “moderation” dance well?  If something is “good”, I know I for one want it again and again and again and … ad nauseum.  I’m a writer. (shhh don’t let that get around) So I figure if I sit at this computer (when the girls are on their visitation or post story time or when they’re eating or playing or having “their” time) and type til’ my fingers bleed that’s a good thing right? Yeah. Not always so.  My poor Delilah (dell computer lol) caught a heckuva cold today and I was bereft of the tool for my craft.  Post temper tantrum, and reinstalling windows and drivers and omg, we had a helluva ninja day.  House is clean as a whistle and the ninjas are all played out. I may, however, need to replenish my makeup after today’s beauty shop show down.

I’ve done that with everything at one time or another.  I was a meeting-o-holic for years.  Now, put yer fingers down, I’d rather have been an obsessive meeting attender than drunk. But there came a time when I had to get back into life as well. Perhaps take a walk? Ride a bike? See a movie? (who knew you could do THAT sober?) Spend time with loved ones to SHOW them how recovery had helped heal my sickly soul.  Novel idea no?  If I’m in the “lack of self control” mode, being impulsive and zig zagging through life without the benefit of mindfulness; I am sure to “overdo” it everytime.  Like a puppy or a 16 year old in heat, many times to the point of frenzied obsession.  (okay that’s been a long time ago so shushit) Writing doesn’t count does it? Okay. I LIKE the idea of missing my keyboard.  Time away is sometimes a very good thing.

Recovery, if you have the sense to see/hear/feel it, is around you all the time.  Out of the mouth of my Ninja B, I am awash in divine inspiration.  As for the other two, they continued to jump from one brightly decorated twin bed to the other. Over and over and over … until of course my baby J landed flat on her rump. On the floor.  “A couple times is fun JJ.” Says Ella Bella, “Do it too much and you’ll get hurt.”  Indeed. A little goes a long long way.

And as for me? I fixed up the old girl and Del and me and the internets are gonna pal around for a bit … at least until I need new bandages for my typing-addled digits.

In the recovery show, fear is delineated as one of our worst enemies.  Specifically addressed in the fourth step, the promises, and all throughout recovery literature (in one way or another) it is the biggest tool our “disease” uses as subterfuge.  Best way to derail recovery? Slide a little fear into the humble pie and then do NOTHING about it.  It is human nature to be fearful from time to time … it’s an impulse – per Wikipedia:

• Fear is an emotional response to a perceived threat. It is a basic survival mechanism occurring in response to a specific stimulus, such as pain or the threat of danger.

Where the “ish” comes in is simply this. WHAT EXACTLY IS THE STIMULUS FOR DANGER??? If it comes from an unreliable source (i.e. “sick thinking”) and is a problem of perception, then it is an IRRATIONAL fear. (thank you Wikipedia … again)

• Irrational behaviors of individuals include taking offense or becoming angry about a situation that has not yet occurred, expressing emotions exaggeratedly (such as crying hysterically), maintaining unrealistic expectations, engaging in irresponsible conduct such as problem intoxication, disorganization, or extravagance, and falling victim to confidence tricks.

Soooooooo what you say? I already know this. I already KNOW how to handle this. Stepwork, positive self talk, listing rational versus irrational fears, talking it out with a sponsor or trusted recovery friend, praying, meditating, physical activity, thought-changing techniques, mindfulness, working with another dope fiend/drunk … yes I know you know. (I think)  But even the self proclaimed Queen of Inventory Taking ( yours truly – *curtsy*) gets stuck all up in “it” sometimes. Horrible feeling KNOWING that what your mind is telling you is just … plain … wrong.  You’re not alone in this. Not by a long shot.

A problem thought shared with another person is a like debreeding a bedsore (eww).  Akin to a festering of this nature (sorry for the analogy but it’s a DAMN good one),  we must DIG it out.  Because it can be very easy for us to “act as if” everything is fine … when it’s simply not.  Hell our fear could even be linked to talking to other people.  I’ll share with you what my first sponsor told me when I feebly suggested that I didn’t “like” talking to women.  WHO THE HELL SAID ANYTHING ABOUT LIKING? GIRL YOU’RE GONNA DIE. LIKE IT OR NOT. And then she walked away chuckling mumbling “girl is crazy … has to like it. good lord.”  I got the message.  I talked. I shared. Didn’t like it one bit. It hurt. It was difficult. So. WHAT.

Apparently the purpose of this rant (of sorts) is to be reminded that no matter what, Face Everything And Recover.  FEAR. Like it or don’t like it. Twenty days or twenty years … no one is exempt from the insidious fingers of fear.  It’s part of the sick that must be sizzled by the sunlight of the spirit. (oooooh that was a good one) And you may just be surprised … the person you talk to may just have the same exact fear as you; then you can both laugh. Then move on to better topics … like boys, or shoes, or bizarre facebook postings like mine the other day … *ahem* moving along now.

Night cool kids. Thanks for being here <3

I remember that very first moment of surrender at an AA meeting at the ripe old age of nineteen.  April 18th, 1992 and I was still swollen from my head bouncing off the windshield of a pickup truck.  Bloated from drinking, shame permeating my very sweat, eye contact NOT an option I knew succinctly … that I was simply a screw up. A reject. That it wasn’t drinking every day that was so much the problem; but an inherent genetic defect of LOSE.

See if I was “BAD” or “FLAWED” …  it was hopeless. Not to mention helpless.  If I could only pray more or read more self help books or write more poignant anguished poetry (lol) or get the right guy or lose more weight or be smarter or get more beautiful or get the right friends or … or … or …  you get the idea.  Lost-cause-ism. Total and infinite.  I felt ninety versus nineteen.  Drink – trouble – drink – trouble – smoke weed – munchies – then trouble – other drugs – MORE trouble.  I couldn’t for the life of me see the pattern.  We’re so sick that we don’t KNOW that we don’t KNOW … that we don’t … know.

I walked into that meeting.  The girl was maybe 30 that spoke.  She was well put together, confident, well spoken, and kind.  I thought “Good grief (cleaned up for reading enjoyment – I was a bit of a pottymouth back in the day) what the hell does THIS chick have to say about MY life?”.  And then … the magic happened.  Her first words were … “ I HAVE RECOVERED FROM A SEEMINGLY HOPELESS STATE OF MIND AND BODY. MY NAME IS … (I can’t remember her name that was 18 years ago jeeze )… AND I’M AN ALCOHOLIC.”

That got my attention.  But somehow she told MY story. She described the long lonely nights, the despair, the inferiority, the drinking patterns, the promiscuity (more of the “tease” variety, blue balls all around – so to speak), the suicide attempts, all the way down to the “self help book brigade”.  I could only hear the sick at the time.  That is why “drunk/drug-alogues” are vital.  If she had stood up and said, “We all know how to be sick blah blah blah”… I wouldn’t have heard a word.

BECAUSE she identified with the sick by sharing what it was like, my soul LISTENED. And the whole recovered thing? I liked that.  I’ve heard many folks spout that and people getting their panties all knotted about it.   But we have indeed recovered … from that seemingly hopeless state mentioned above.  We have joy and love and light in our lives today, if we choose it to be so.  Working 12 steps to freedom, going to meetings, working with others … doesn’t seem like an awful lot compared to the alternative.  To STAY recovered I must be willing to continue, every single moment of every single day, to work the program outlined in the Big Book. (Basic Text for my NA peeps). Hence the idea of continually “recovering”.  Working constantly to stay out of that sick.

Here’s the good news.  It becomes … rote. It becomes … innate.  Healthfulness can replace all that “innate bad” I used to think I had.  (Never really was bad, my sick told me that and I believed like Pavlov ringin’ that damn bell. Salivating Sickness. ooh I like that) We can get better.  There IS a solution. If we just don’t die first … there’s always hope.  You too can recover.

And remember … the elevator is broken – take the steps.

(the person I wrote this for knows exactly who he is. I love you.)