We all get into jumbled messes… in our heads especially. Step 10 (yes I know I talk about this one ALL the time… shushit) tells me that I am to examine MY behavior. Yes – everyday. Yes – I can’t look at you anymore and blame you for my ‘stuff’. That’s all well and good to examine it… but does it CHANGE? Do you see the patterns of your behavior? Are you able to not stumble over that ego over and over and over again?

These are hard lessons to learn you know. Steps 6 and 7 talk about removing defects of character… step 10 KEEPS them cleaned up. If I continuously take inventories then I’m staying in awareness.

It sucks though. Last night I rage-typed (newest cool thing to say online apparently, put the word rage in front of everything and it sounds SO much cooler) a little ditty that will never get posted. Okay maybe I’ll post a snippet. My head was NOT in a good place. It happens.

I don’t want to be in recovery right now. I don’t want to remember what’s good about the world or my part in things or how to not have fucking resentments.  Don’t wanna take the high road. Just for once I want to bitch about other people and give in to a good bout of gossip or make everything someone else’s fault so for ONCE I don’t have to hunker down and look at shit.  Or have people tell me frivolous shit like “it gets better”… sometimes it doesn’t get better. Sometimes things suck and they’re supposed to fucking suck. It’s called life. The best we can do is just get through it. And apparently have fits. And rant and rage and then realize how stupid they sound and then shut up and go do a damn 10th step.

 

You may disagree with me… but in my experience this happens every once in a while. Recovery is some tough stuff man. The high road, the work, the always looking at your own defects. It’d be much easier to live like (some of) the rest of the world you know; to not take responsibility.

But is it really easier? To live in fear and shame and blame and and and… bleck. No. It isn’t. Living a spiritual life is the most rewarding thing there is… being able to rest easy at night with a clear conscience? Yeah. Win. So even though it’s normal to get pissed off at the world and have a big fat brat fit… Recovery makes it possible for those fits to be temporary moments of pain, instead of the ‘norm’.

So don’t beat yourself up for getting discouraged. We ALL do. Every single one of us. There are just those of us who have learned a different way. A way that works for us… a guide to addressing the situations that happen with dignity and grace and self exploration. So… there IS a solution to stinkin’ thinkin’ (oh the cliche’)… so that it can STOP and you can work through it all. And when the next big fat brat fit happens? You’ll know to let yourself have a good cry, look at your part in the whole sordid mess, forget about what the other people did, and call someone and tell them all about it.

Yeah. It’s JUST like that. Hmmm maybe I should’ve called this one “Get your head out of your ass-ism”. Ev. Anyway… love you people and thanks for keeping me sober and as always… I Love Recovery.

postscript: IT doesn’t get better… WE DO.

Upon mentioning to my lil’ ole bloggity blog here to some folks, I’m always asked “Do you really loooooove recovery?”  *snicker*  Of course this gives folks a reason to tease me; always epic fun. However it brings up a good point. Do I really love recovery and what the hell does that mean anyhow?

Look at the idea of  love relationships for a moment.  Is it really all sunshine and roses, candy coated goodnight kisses, lollipops and rainbows? Umm. No. Anyone who has survived a broken heart can spew for weeks on this topic. Love can be painful and bittersweet, succulent and obsessive, miserable and joyous; all sorts of mixed up -  mashed -  fly by night – kick ass emotions wrapped with heartstrings and leather studded blindfolds.

The opposite of love isn’t hate you know … it’s apathy, aka: not giving a hoot or holler.  Love and hate are the flip of the same coin called emotion.  So possibly it would be safe to call this website … I Emote Recovery. (Not to be confused with I Emo Recovery where they all wear black eyeliner and write tragic love sonnets to the sobriety gods).

Twisting and turning, ever entwining intricacies of recovery life … hell let’s just call it life cause that’s what it really is anyhow right? We’re just labeling it recovery because we forgot or didn’t learn all the life skills that normal children have gained by age 12.  Using became the only way to stop the life circus and get rid of the scary clowns.  Problem is, the clowns were hiding under the damn bed the whole time. Now that we put down the bottle/pipe/needle/prostitute/poker chip/razor blade, we’re newborn babes mewling helplessly cause we can’t change our own diaper.

The notion that love sometimes hurts – and hurt can bring growth – and growth can sow love, is one idea that I can live with today.  Circular thinking or interconnectedness or hell I don’t know – just feeling alive is love to me these days. I could quote a Nazareth song right now … but I won’t. Let’s just suffice to say that I do indeed love recovery; in an emo inspired, tragic comedy, black eyeliner kinda way.

To love is to be real. And in that sense – yes I very much love… recovery.

Embracing myself regardless of what’s going on?  Cranky? Yeah who isn’t from time to time.  I wear brat well.  I’m tired of explaining and justifying and attempting to be “happy girl” all the time (although I usually am of a pretty sunny disposition). Funny thing about being happy, lots don’t like that either. *shrug* Can’t please everyone but I sure as hell can please me!  Being true and congruent to who I am makes all the diff.

As a result of self love of the Sass, I’m able to give and receive with others. ACCEPT gifts given to me in love and kindness. How many years have we denied ourselves the pure act of simple kindness? My worthiness is apparent in every thank you, every half smile, every bat of my $3 fake eyelashes. (Yes I wear em. I’m slightly “saucy” and my real lashes are less than a centimeter long.  I laugh every time I wear em so shut it and laugh with me)

New Year. New Love. New expression of me and you.No one likes ya? No one’s holdin your hand? No one to ring the year in with? It’s okay. Come online, talk to me, I’ll take your hand. I’m here and I know what it’s like to be alone and a bit lonely. My soul knows your soul knows my soul. Kindred spirit of the recovery soul. From all that kills us inside can grow a mustard seed that will set you free … if you choose it to be.

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.

People that aren’t in recovery look at me like I’m some sort of alien… especially when I try to take responsibility for my actions. Apologizing for poor behavior? Owning my part in a situation. Being unafraid to say “I’m happy today… just because”. It’s like I’m a two headed monster… literally. (I sorta dig that) There are a great deal of unhappy complaining people in the world. It’s rather easy to get sucked into that sometimes. You see I’ve been spoiled for most of my adult life with the jobs I’ve held.

These last few years, due to lack of a Masters Degree and no funding for treatment, have been the first time since 19 years old that I’ve had a job that DIDN’T have to do with recovery. Detox, Battered Women’s Shelters, Crisis Centers, Long Term Care Alcohol and Drug Rehabs, Intermediate Counseling, Children’s Services Investigator (that one lasted a very short time… I wanted to take every child home with me. ouch.), and then being in the rooms for almost 20 years, then a stay at home mom for 7 of those years… has a tendency to flavor your experience.

So I’ve been able to SEE my recovery in a completely different way, by being around NON-recovering people. What a gift it’s been for me to have the wisdom to tell the difference. We all need something to push against sometimes. Something with which to ‘GAUGE’ ourselves and our experiences.

We look at life differently because we HAVE to… actually we CHOOSE it.  If we’re NOT aware of our subconscious disease talking to us… we’ll die. It’s that simple. It really is. The steps tell me this is so; and if there’s one area in my life that I cannot skimp on… it’s the 12 steps of recovery. They help keep me sane and rational and aware. Eyes open kids. All the way.

Okay okay… back to the topic. Jeesh. Talk about tangents Amy… get to it already.

So even though I work my arse off on stepwork and examine myself as much as possible (eww that sounds sorta dirty)… that’s not all there is to this awareness gig. All of this ‘self knowledge’ will do me little good until I apply it. My biggest character defect? Going too quickly. Tasking, tasking, tasking… yes we’ve talked about this before a million times. I don’t really SEE when I’m in that mode. I’m not aware of the looks on my daughters faces or the kind older gentleman flashing me a toothy grin or the eye contact made or pretty much anything important.

What did I see today when I made a conscious decision to SLOW DOWN? 

I had a difficult appointment today.  I made a decision before walking in that this time would be different. That MY attitude would dictate the flavor of the day. The woman who had treated me poorly during the prior appointment was very kind. She apologized for what had happened weeks before and explained how hectic things had been and how she felt badly. When I responded with, “You know you do a great service for people with very little thanks. I understand and I didn’t take it personally. How wonderful of you to be so kind. Thank you.”  This started a 45 minute conversation about social work and public service and by the time we were done she asked if she could speak to me again.  For MY experience and support.

It was the most lovely moment I’ve had in a long time. 

I woke my children up earlier than normal today. I kissed their cheeks awake one by one and spent a good 10 minutes just talking about how the day was going to go. About how amazing they would be and how much I love them. We ate breakfast together that THEY prepared and no fighting or panic occurred.  (I rarely get to take them to school and my mom who watches them is a bit of a “panic queen”)  Out the door with smiles and laughter, looking rather snazzy if I may say so myself.

It was the most lovely moment I’ve had in a long time.

I was able to pick my children up from school. BooBoo sprinted all the way across the school yard and jumped in my arms. Ella even hollered “Look everyone my MOM is here!” I had tears in my eyes.

It was the most lovely moment I’ve had in a long time.

We made a pizza and homemade cookies after a rousing homework session; during which my oldest actually asked to help her sister with math. I saw caring and pride in learning beaming from both of their hearts.

It was the most lovely moment I’ve had in a long time. 

I left the laptop in the kitchen. Powered down my phone. Hunkered down in pajamas with three sweet little girls WITH NO DISTRACTIONS… and watched a movie from start to finish. My middle daughter read everyone a bedtime story (first grader reading DAMN well btw. smarty pants) And then three sweet little girls sang made up lullabyes with me until they drifted to sleep.

I can’t remember when I’ve had a better day.

(well except when my guy was here last weekend. But that’s a story for another day)

My point is I was HERE. All the way. No frantic scrambling or hyper vigilant inventory taking. Just doing the part of step 12 … “practice these principles in ALL your affairs” And then it hit me. This day was what they talk about in the appendix to a spiritual experience in the Big Book (it’s in the back of the book. read it. you won’t be sorry) You know the part about the “educational variety”. When everything you’ve done seems to hit all at once and you GET IT. You feel it all the way down to your tippy toes. When your vision clears and you say EUREKA… this is it baby. All the self work in the world leads up to BEING.

Not every day is happy… but every day is REAL. And having the eyes to see it all? Priceless. All because of recovery. I came to the rooms of AA to stop drinking, I didn’t expect to be given the ability to see the world. Thank you for feeding me when I didn’t have the will to live and for loving me when all I felt was hatred and for showing me that I was no longer alone and for sticking… no matter what.

I love you people and as always… I love recovery.

Really? Thanksgiving. Yes. Stuff yourself til you sleep day. Remember how the Indians saved our asses then we took their land day. Don’t get me wrong … my gorgeous daughters dressing in pilgrim garb and saying a thankful prayer is omg-adorable.  I dig the cooking, the family-ish-ness, and all that. I do.

My three perfectly exquisite and mischievous ninjas. My reasons for living, breathing, and my absolute joy. If I had naught else in this world, my cup of gratitude overfloweth with just their smiles.

But … I like to look a bit deeper. Dig a bit farther. See the beauty in the not-so-pretty. The worthiness of the struggle. The strength in the pain.

We have that you know. Us people-types.  Those of us struggling for awareness especially.  So I’d like to share with you MY gratitude-what-i’m-thankful-for-every-single-moment-of-every-day-not-just-eat-turkey-and-watch-football-day.

• that I’ve suffered so that I know compassion
• ability to be in pain and embrace pure and utter emotion
• broken to a million pieces for it has strengthened me
• to know the opposite of love – so that I cherish kindness
• to have been hurt in childhood to know what NOT to do with the three most important parts of my life
• to have been bereft of self worth so that I work with diligence on self improvement
• to have scars to remind me from whence I came
• sore feet and an aching back and to smile when the lights come on at home because … I worked for this. Hard.
• loneliness to help me cherish loved ones
• dark to identify light
• to remember the “sick” to see health

For truly… how are we to be awake, without eye openers? And that leads me to acknowledge the amazing people in my life. Who hold out their hands and care for me with an unconditional love that takes my breath away – every single day.  I like to think I do the same. Reciprocity you know.  It’s magic.

Oh and don’t get me started on the folks who have so little. Why does it take a holiday for us to give? To bring it to the forefront of our minds? To push us to be emotionally present and sentimental and in the “thanks” giving mood?  Daily. Monthly. Even bi-annually is more than just around the holidays.  Mindful of our interdependency. THAT is where I want to be.  Aware and awake and full of thanks for every little kindness. I’d say that’d be a lovely present to share today… and all days. Every moment, every breath … the “present” … and you are the gift.

Happy Thanks-Giving. Take a moment to find out what you’re REALLY grateful for. And yes that includes adjustable waistband pants. It is stuff yourself day yanno.

Without recovery… no amount of thanks-for-anything, would be possible. So when it comes down to it? Being a SOBER sassy girl… allows me to know the difference between selfishness and humility, numb and grateful. Thanks for that. Thanks for YOU. I’ve been writing this blog for three years now, which in internets time is like CENTURIES. When I sit down to my lappity lap top I feel like I’m about to talk to old friends, which of course… I am. This blog has saved my life (and my ass) so many times I can’t even begin to count. You see, as any good writer will tell you, writers write what they need to remember/learn/DO. And the fact that I’ve met so many amazing people as a result? Well that’s just the gravy.

Thank you. I love you… and, as always, I Love Recovery. Happy Thanksgiving my friends.

Your level of transparency is directly correlated with how much you like and accept yourself. Being able to be open and honest and share who you really are is refreshing beyond belief. Gone are the days of shuckin’ and jivin’ to try not to trip over the lie that you told by omission to cover your current condition. (or something like that)

There is beauty in raw truth. Much joy in the sharing of who you are without embarassment or apologies. Bubbling up from your gut… sharing all that you are without fear no matter what anyone says.

That’s much easier said than done in this world. We’re taught to be defended, to keep “safe”. What is safe really? It’s an illusion. A lie borne of a shame based society where everyone has to “be the best”. Think of all the politicians with skeletons in their closet or the gasps when something “dirty” or “scandalous” is found out about your favorite Kardashian. (bleck) Perfection is an illusion to try to appear better than everyone else. Directly correlated with EGO (in recovery-speak we say Easing God Out) it’s all about putting your best foot forward to make sure EVERYONE KNOWS you’re OKAY.

No wonder it’s so difficult for us when we first get clean. We’re taught to discard almost EVERYTHING we’ve ever known to be true. Get up and say WHAT to WHOM? Share THAT? Are you kidding me? I have to tell another person all the horrible things I’ve done/ been done to me? WHAT? I don’t know what that has to do with not drinking.

Everything. Unless and until we discover all the sick behaviors/thoughts/beliefs we have… we won’t get better. The 12 steps do this for me. Sharing with other alcoholics does this for me. And let me tell you… it’s FREEDOM.  I learned that I’m not alone. That I’m not as horrible of a person as I’ve been taught. That sharing who I really am helps me to connect with other people who are just like myself.

There was a time when I would have just died of shame to have people know my “stuff”; past discretions and painful experiences. Growing up in my house was an exercise in “keep your mouth shuttism” or “keeping up with the Romans” (as in Catholic). My family was the type that kept a choke hold on the skeleton’s in the closet and the worst thing you could EVER do was tell the family secrets. As if people didn’t know. Yeah right.

It just wasn’t talked about. Wasn’t “proper”.

Recovery has taught me a different tune. My very existence (and no I’m not exaggerating) depends on my ability to be honest and forthcoming in every area. Too many times it would have been easier to just act “as if” everything was fine… when it wasn’t. Too many times the “hiding” of my sick thinking caused so many problems.

I remember my parents coming to hear my lead back in the mid 90′s. I didn’t change it to suit them. Simply telling my story was what it always had been … and so continued to be even with them there.

My mother didn’t speak to me for three weeks…

Shame is a fear based emotion. Fear of other people’s opinions that directly impact my opinion… about me. Approval seeking never works because there will ALWAYS be someone who doesn’t… approve.  Trust me on this one. And really if everyone likes everything I say? I’m not doing it right. Do I want unhealthy people to co-sign my BS? No. Do I want to pander to others for fear of their opinion? Hell no. Do I want to live a life free of secrets and shame? ABSOLUTELY.

What other people think and do are none of my business. Seriously. All I can change is me (with the help of the 12 steps and a power greater than me ). Anything else is out of my control. And I’ve found that being unapologetically myself, with scars and flaws and defects of character and fear and and and… yeah, ME, is completely okay today. Not having to do everything right and sharing who I am is a freedom I’d not known before recovery.

You people DO realize that other people are (usually) not this forthcoming right? What a gift we have that we can share all of this… stuff.

12&12 p.59, Step Five

I mean really, how can we ever get better until we spill it. There is no room for grandiosity or inflated ego in a life well lived. No better or no worse than anyone else, but working day by day to be like a transparent glass that is always full… of recovery.

How about … enough is enough, tough enough, i’m not enough, you’ve done enough, enough said, more than enough, not good enough… gah. (That’s an odd word when you type it a couple dozen times btw.) All meaning … according to Merriam and her hot man Webster:   occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations. (i.e., STOP) 

When exactly dost thou cup runneth ovah?

or “more than a mouthful isn’t necessary” HEY I DON’T BELIEVE THAT. hmmph.

Overstimulated. Used to love it. Now? Not so much. I’ve become a much more “middle of the road” type chick; due to recovery and I believe a little bit of aging gracefully. Emotions lambasted at the end of a happy stick can ‘stick’ in my craw just as much as being downtrodden. I’d like to say that I still have a sense of adventure; still like to do “donuts” in my car in an abandoned parking lot in winter. (like I did when I was 16 sporting my mustang and a couple dozen shots of tequila) Nowadays not so much. I look back on that with zero fondness and a sense of “If my kids ever did that I would KILL them”. Yeah my brand new minivan won’t do that anyway.  (Yikes. Minivan. Well at least I have MILF status. I think. Yeah. Pretty sure of that. Sayin’. )

When the hell did I get old? Or smart. Or less “risky” (no I didn’t say risque. THAT is still intact… thank the gods. Every girl needs to keep a little “trashy” at hand, just to keep it interesting. Don’t look at me like that. Or do. Oh hell.) Did this whole sobriety thing take away my sense of adventure? (not a chance in hell. my definition of “adventure” has just changed.)

Living a life fully aware and awake is the greatest adventure. Allowing ourselves to live with no apologies or pretense for being FULLY who we are? Well that’s just got adventure written all over it.  Every day, every moment, is a chance to see all the beauty around you.

You see the problem with thrill seeking behavior is you have to keep upping the ante. Every time sucking down more and more risky to get your proverbial rocks off. Until you either bite the big one or get hurt or irritate everyone around you to the point of being alone. (now apply the previous sentence to a past relationship. ouch. that stings.)

True contentment blossoms from the inside out. NO MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING. And balance? Well that’s just the shizznit right there. Being content in your own space whether you’re on a roller coaster or meditating or having sex or not so much or going “out” or staying under covers.

If YOU are down with “it” well then everything else seems pretty freakin’ awesome. You don’t HAVE fun. (this is a passive verb) You CREATE fun. (this is an action verb) Get it? Good.

Know when enough is enough. Listen to the inner winner that shouts… wtf man you’re looking outside of yourself for excitement again. knock it off.  Yeah. THAT voice. It could come from your sponsor or (hopefully someday eventually) your gut or from something you read. Secret is inventory. Watch your thrill seeking behavior that mimics active use (unhealthy jealous stalking stuck-together-at-the-hip relationships are a good example of this). You’ll be glad you did.

oh yes. and speaking of this word “enough”. You are. That. Just the right amounts of amazing and wonderful. Remember that k? K. Love you AND recovery. Peace.

Not your regular average meeting (which I’ve done hundreds probably thousands of times), but an online webcam meeting. I was nervous because of the format… I cried a little –  okay a lot… and I was SO damn grateful to be able to share. It scared the hell out of me which is very VERY good. Why? Well let me tell you…

I don’t want to even remotely-ever-in-a-million-years think that I have to be perfect. 

I used to be a circuit speaker. AA and in my job as an Addictions counselor, public speaking came naturally to me; almost like breathing. Poised and all about it, I loved to get up and speak. That’s not a BAD thing mind you… but I think something got lost in translation in that decade and a half of “talking”.  Fifteen years is a long time to be sober … and talking and sharing and leading meetings. It almost became rote. Recovery was my entire life, both personally and professionally.

Then came the six months of hell where I thought I could safely drink again… see   The Girl I used to be or Relapse of a Mid-Timer (yes that’s a link)  for further reference.

This time around (oh I despise that phrase) in the 3 and a half years of sobriety some of that “polish” got taken away. I’m no longer an addictions specialist (although I still talk and write for a living and very well if I may say so) and I am no longer a circuit speaker… no longer sponsoring 20 girls at a time… no longer a Big Book-down-your-throat type.

It’s an inside job. My recovery today is quiet fortitude and “showing” versus “telling” and giving back in different ways (like this blog… which is basically anonymous and for which I receive no financial compensation). I like that. I LIKE that I cry when I speak … LIKE that it’s raw and real… LIKE that I get nervous.

Know why?

Because it means it’s fucking important. It MATTERS. And I WILL not return to poised and polished because I’m short changing me if I do so. When you talk about a life or death thing, like we ALL have experienced in our addiction and recovery, being real is a necessity. The TRUTH is never easy.

So I’ll keep the quirky self deprecating goofball sassy sappy ass girl that I am. And revel in the fact that this shit matters. Real. Raw. Uncensored. Imperfect. Truth.

Thanks for keeping me sober today people. Love you (mean it) and as always… I Love Recovery.

SassySoberGirl aka Amy G. aka SAPPYSoberGirl

 (In The Rooms will continue to have online webcam AA and NA meetings. Check the site http://intherooms.com for more details) 

A man that I have seen a dozen times a dozen times a dozen times. A man that always seemed to gravitate towards me and I wasn’t sure why. (Blonde hair and big… blue eyes may have had something to do with it. One can’t be sure.) This man that had stumbled and stuttered and stammered as he came up to talk to me at least once a week; never really making eye contact.

I’ve seen him with bad “road rash” from a dirty dance with the pavement crotch rocket style. I’ve seen him blurry eyed and stumbly, fumbling through his torrent of slurred verbiage. I’ve seen him blush and cower and shuffle his feet while telling me “Things just aren’t so good.” I’ve watched as he deteriorated before me as the weeks went by… first losing his relationships, then his health, and (as I came to find out on Friday) his business, and his home.

Flip to Friday afternoon. It’d been a helluva week. I was tired. It was almost three. I was mentally done. All I could think about was getting home to take the mini ninjas to the park. In comes “the guy”. I hadn’t seen him in months. (I remember these things. There is order and beauty in the details you know.)  He fumbled and he stumbled and he shuffled and finally I had had enough.

“What is the matter with you man? Every time you come in here, you’re all eggshells and winces. What do you want to say to me?”

“I’m a drunk.” he says. “I’m a drunk and I lost everything. I’ve been in treatment for a month and one of my counselors told me to find people that have that “spark”. I thought of you. Are you in AA?”

(Holy shit. But I sorta knew it already.)

“I have a spark BECAUSE of my 12 step recovery yes. And largely NOT from my doing. All I did was keep showing up and do what was suggested. I am no different than you. That’s the beauty of recovery. If I can do it… well you can too.” I was reaching for words. They came. I was glad.

“I can’t imagine the idea of never drinking again.” a big alligator tear cruised down his cheek. “I lost everything and I still want to drink.”

I wanted to go into counselor mode. To explain to him that he suffers from a disease, and all the characteristics of said disease. I wanted to reassure him that there was an answer. That it COULD be different. That he COULD recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. But I didn’t. This was HIS moment. His bottom. HIS telling. I simply gave him a phone number of a male friend in recovery that I’ve known for 20 years.

“This man can help you… help you. If you’re tired of the lying, shame, blame, trauma, drama, pain, and shitstorm that alcoholism can bring? He can help you.”

And that was it. No trying to help him myself. No trying to convince. No war stories to identify. His countenance softened. We understood each other perfectly at that moment. It was a beautiful thing… this moment. No words need be said. They would have come across trite and lacking humility. It was enough. And it appeared to me that some sort of weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Perhaps just wishful thinking.

And it kept me sober. You see step 12 can happen anywhere at anytime with anyone. You never know when you could be the only example of recovery a person sees. No matter where you are or what you’re doing. Random bits of unexpected treasure.

I saw a man of Friday. And it changed the whole perception of my day. Thank you for cleaning my glasses mister.

I love recovery.