I went to one of my old home group meetings last night. Cuyahoga Falls Sat. Night; a meeting that I went to rather regularly back in the day. Okay pretty much weekly for well over a decade. My bff/sponso Kat and a new friend Em (sup girls) were kind enough to go with me. After TWO Starbucks pit stops and some clothes shopping we made our way there.

Everything had changed of course; I hadn’t been there in years since moving a bit more southernly. But the ONE thing that hadn’t changed was the people. There was still a Hicken there (42 years sober. love you Tom) and several other people I’ve known since I was 19 and came into AA. (Gary and George. SO love you and it was great to see you) I was on top of the world… felt like I’d come home again. Felt like “this is the way AA is supposed to feel”, welcoming, kind, loving, accepting. The speaker was a beautiful spirit of a girl who’d been through hell and then back again… when we left all three of us were like “wow”.

And I then proceeded to rant on about how meetings weren’t the “same” where we lived.  How it didn’t have the same zest or appeal or mindset.

What a fucking moron I can be.

My sponser type bff Kat and I started a conversation about “things” from the past. She turned to me and said… I remember what you were like after you relapsed. After 15 years of sobriety fell away from you and when you came back over three years ago. I remember. Look at how far you’ve come.

Dammit.

Have I? Instead of railing about what “we” don’t have in our 12 step fellowship “down here”… why am I not focused on how I can make a difference? What can I do to create that welcoming environment? What am I doing to make it better? Bitching never did anything except get my panties in a bunch. And it certainly never helped a newcomer.

Instead of focusing on what’s wrong with the world I need to focus on what needs to be changed with me and my attitudes. (Thanks Dr. Paul – you know the “acceptance is the answer paragraph? yeah) And really I found a woman (my sponsor) who has loved me unconditionally from day one, treated me with kindness, that I’ve been completely open and honest with from day one. I NEVER had that “up in Akron”. There was always a part of me that I held back.

I did my stepwork like I was told. I listened. I followed directions. Cleaned house. Helped others. Sponsored oodles of girls. Was a circuit speaker at meetings all over Northeast Ohio. Big book thumper from hell. Step thumper even worse. Which isn’t a bad thing. But as far as sponsors went… I did what they said and that was the extent. Which really is what the main purpose of a sponsor is… to follow the directions to stop drinking.

But what I found in Kat? Yeah. She saw me when I was (literally) beat up from the feet up. Broken and bruised and unable to see the true from the false. I got sicker in the six month relapse than I ever thought possible. I suppose it didn’t help being in an emotionally cruel marriage for 7 years either. I’ve never had a stronger friendship than with this woman. No-matter-what-ism.  She’s taught me more than I could ever begin to mention here. And I’ll be eternally grateful.

So last night I remembered. Remembered where I came from and what is important. And for all the pissing and moaning I’ve done about the meetings down here? Well I got to meet a woman who showed me how to live again. I’d say that’s pretty fucking spectacular and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Now. To focus on what I can do to be the best possible member of this 12 step fellowship. Right. I love recovery.

(current status message on ITR… mine.)

That about sums it up. But I’ll expound anyway because it’s simply necessary.

We have a way of walking around this world with blinders keeping us from seeing what’s around us. I’d say this is a bit less true for recovering people since our very existence is reliant on being aware and awake… stepwork says this is so. Even so, many times we’re hyper-vigilant about what’s “WRONG” with the world and the people in it; that we forget about what’s “RIGHT”. (yes I despise those words but am using them for the sake of commonality)

It’s all about attitude really. What you CHOOSE to see. How many times have you walked into a new or unfamiliar meeting and immediately went through a laundry list of it’s deficits? Okay, I admit I’ve done it; more than once. Moving from Akron AA, with hundreds of meetings, to small town USA, with only one per night; was a challenge. My magical magnifying mind ran through the litany of “That’s not how WE do it” and “What the hell is all this crosstalking bullshit?” (I’m not proud of this mind you.)

The phrase that next ran through my mind was “Be quick to see where religious people are right.” (big blue book find the page and I’ll buy you coffee) and THEN Dr. Paul’s story (also in the big blue book) “I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes.”

Ah. There it is. The issue AGAIN is my perception. I was sitting tonight “wanting” and “wishing” for things to change in my life; when I realized that the “THINGS” didn’t need to change… I did. Again. Gah. Sure as shinola, when my vision changed, I saw the beauty of sharing and caring in only the way us sick folks know how. The miracle of recovery. And to think I almost missed it because of MY dirty glasses.

So I do what works for me and sent a message out to the universe. I call it the “name claim game”. And it pretty much scares the hell outta me. That level of vulnerability to state clearly and directly… “Okay universe (or God or Buddha or Allah or the baby Jesus or whomever you address when you get into the calm) here I am. Here IT is. This is who I am and I’m gonna stand out here with a quivering bottom lip naked in the cold and show you all that I am and all that I can be.”

Holy crap.

Wanna know what the amazing part was? I got answers… and kindness… and sincerity… and positive energy from ALL those around me in return. Now THAT was unexpected treasure (serendipity) to be sure. Had I just been focusing on what was WRONG with my current situation, I’d not have seen any of that. Hell I probably wouldn’t have shared at all; I mean what’s the use if everything sucks?

Having

Eyes

To

See

Can

Change

The

World.

Like Dr. Paul says… get ya a new pair of glasses. Or something like that. There’s more “right” all around you than you ever dreamed possible. Promise.

I was an isolater (okay sometimes still am). A runner. A “get too close to me and I’mma run like hell” type of chick.  (yes. I am aware that I’m not unique. hmmph) A “lick my wounds alone because it’s not pretty” until I can regroup and write it out. I used to believe this protected me until I realized that I was missing part of the equation. The “feeling” aspect. The vulnerability and courage it takes just to “be” in the moment. But there was a problem with that ideology. I had NO say-so in my emotions.

You know that feeling where the back of your neck burns? Your face feels hot? It’s hard to swallow and your eyes start misting? And you say to yourself “don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry please God don’t let me cry right now”. No? Then you should stop reading because this doesn’t relate to you. Yes? Omg it sucks doesn’t it?

I have this “thing” I absolutely despise about myself. I cry. I mean I CRY. At other times than just being sad. When I’m angry or embarassed or overwhelmed, when it’s that time of the month, when I absolutely DO NOT want to show emotion. When I’m happy even. When things are so breath takingly beautiful that I just absolutely have to see the world through a veil of saltine saline. WHEN-EVER. So the only tool I had in the past was to drink and in recovery…  run away. You people CANNOT see this. I hate it so you will to… bleck.

I really dislike this. Really really. Because I’ve learned as a result of recovery that just because I “feel” something, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily truth. (Feelings aren’t facts blah blah blah) Crying is an external showing of an internal stimulus. Aka… showin’ yer ass. Filter-less. It’s being at the whim of emotions that may not even be based in fact.

Here’s the rub.

Unless and until I can accept that part of me completely; embrace the things I like the least about myself… I can’t change them. Thankfully years upon years of stepwork has allowed me to navigate my emotional world so that NOW, when I cry, it’s congruent to the situation. No more past resentments that foul up the works, no more (most times) flawed thinking that makes me a walking water fountain on legs.

But I had to look at it. Steps 6 and 7 showed me that. That I be allowed to address and begin to remove those things in my character that blocked me. From learning, hearing, growing, changing, evolving … into an emotionally balanced person. Until I could SEE the whole water-works issue… and get to the reasons behind it (steps 4 and 5)… only then could I do the work (6-12) to begin to identify the “true from the false”.

Because when we really get down to causes and conditions? Fear is a bitch and the root of most of my flawed perceptions. Today when I “feel” I can do so with a recovering mind; if I’m all “jumbly and weepy” I can look at it and figure out what the hell is wrong with me.   And, if I’m being honest, I’m so tired of running. Now I can stand tall with tears streaming down my face and know that they are based in a recovery mindset. What a gift THAT is.

Man. I love recovery.

It’s National Recovery Month… huh? What does THAT mean exactly? Well according to SAMHSA (Substance Abuse And Mental Health Administration) it’s this…

National Recovery Month (Recovery Month) is a national observance that educates Americans on the fact that addiction treatment and mental health services can enable those with a substance use or mental disorder to live a healthy and rewarding life. The observance’s main focus is to laud the gains made by those in recovery from these conditions, just as we would those who are managing other health conditions such as hypertension, diabetes, asthma and heart disease.  Recovery Month spreads the positive message that behavioral health is essential to overall health, that prevention works, treatment is effective and people can and do recover.

Ah that whole awareness thing. Gotcha. And oddly enough in ALL the recovery circles I run around in… I’ve not heard tons about this. Pity. Although I suppose that those already IN recovery don’t really need it seeing as EVERY month is recovery month. For those who don’t know about recovering people… or what addiction is or how to treat it? Yeah. Great.  Maybe this is why…

Celebrated during the month of September, Recovery Month began in 1989 as TreatmentWorks! Month, which honored the work of the treatment and recovery professionals in the field. The observance evolved to National Alcohol and Drug Addiction Recovery Month (Recovery Month) in 1998, when the observance expanded to include celebrating the accomplishment of individuals in recovery from substance use disorders.  The observance is evolving once again in 2011, to include all aspects of behavioral health and will now be known as National Recovery Month (Recovery Month).

Ah. Right. A month that started as atta boys for counselors (hey I was one for nearly ten years… no shame in givin’ peeps high fives for that) to nine years later celebrating the individuals IN recovery from substance abuse disorders… to EVERYONE and all forms of “behavioral health”.

Great. Right? Cheers and hoopla and whatnot for SAMHSA. Or not. Yeah I’mma catch flack for this one. Don’t really care.

I AM NOT A FAN OF THIS.

Why? Umm. Let’s see. Google our fantastic “Administration” (or because I heart you click the link above) and what does it say? Well besides a lot of pretty words it says… BEHAVIORAL… a lot. It also says MENTAL ILLNESS in conjunction with SUBSTANCE ABUSE. Bleck. and double BLECK. (since we’re going with the whole caps thing)

Man look… the only substance I ever “abused” was the one that I didn’t finish. Abuse. Paugh. I loathe that word. Abuse is like saying that there was a choice in the matter. The Big Book tells me when it comes to alcohol I’ve “lost the power of choice” and I “can’t differentiate the true from the false“. Physical malady with a mental twist of rotten lime chaser.

Do I sound bitter? Probably. Do I have reason? Yep. As a former Addictions Counselor, I spent the majority of MY time (during staff meetings) hashing it out with other “professionals” who believed that Addiction was a Mental Disorder. That if you got to the “core” issue (mommy and daddy not loving you as a child) then you wouldn’t be an addict any more). And NO, I’m not kidding. And I got a bit heated. Why?

Because that goes against everything we learn in 12 step land. We are “physically and mentally different than our fellows“. (it’s in the Big Book. Look it up.) Yes we have a “peculiar mental twist” but once we pick up a drink/drug/needle/blunt/pipe/syringe/pill… something is different in us than other people.

If having a BAD childhood is a requirement for addiction… there’d be a HELL of a lot more people in the rooms.

Now I could go on a huge dissertation about how the American Medical Association has listed alcoholism/drug addiction as a physical disease. But I won’t. You can read about it HERE (Relapse Part Uno… or just the basics Ma’am) That’s the premise I work(ed) under. Because it is TRUTH.

The words substance abuse and mental illness in conjunction with who WE are? It pisses me straight off.

So thanks for your National Recovery blah blah blah… but yeah. It’s not for US. It’s for all the treatment providers in the world to pat themselves on the back for working with us “poor addicts”. Thanks. Really. Raise awareness for treatment (it does work if you have the right providers see a list at In The Rooms… they know the good ones) but don’t make it out like it’s for us. Cause’ it isn’t.

A site that I like? A lot? Sure. NICD. National Institute of Chemical Dependency. Booya. Cause that’s what the hell it is… physiological AND mental dependency. (Screw the word ABUSE. pffft.) These cats know what’s up yo. ANY site that lists these at HOT topics for prevention AND treatment… is cool in my book.

HOT TOPICS & RESOURCES

Addiction Resources

ADASK (Alcohol and Drug Addiction Survival Kit): Is a series of articles and resources geared towards parents and others dealing with the devastation of alcoholism and drug addiction.

Alcoholism and Drug Addiction Videos

Drug Pictures

Street Drug Slang Terms

Paraphernalia

Signs & Symptoms of Drug / Alcohol Use

Step Work

Relapse Prevention

http://www.nicd.us/findyourhp.html

Find National State to State Halfway Houses

Treatment Center Finder

Yeah. Lots different. And oh… if you go to the site itself? Note the top of the page where it says…

No God = No Peace / Know God = Know Peace

For a national organization to put that on their site? They know recovery. So… SAMHSA? Keep your “abuse” word and contemplate how great your recovery programs are helping “people like us”. Atta boy yourselves for a job well done. Any treatment program worth two shits helps people understand what they’re dealing with, gets them out of their using environment, and then pushes 12 step or alternative support groups. Yes there are mental issues that are addressed but they are listed as BARRIERS TO RECOVERY… NOT CAUSES OF ADDICTION.

HUGE EFFIN’ DIFFERENCE PEOPLE.

I would say sorry for the rant. But I’m not. I loved being a counselor/therapist, and I have pretty strong beliefs about what works and what doesn’t. Some treatment facilities get it (usually with most of the staff themselves being in recovery) some just DO NOT. Let’s support the ones that do… the sites that DO… the organizations that DO… because us “poor folks who abuse substances”? Well we’re some smart m-effers and with the help of treatment professionals who get IT as well as “the rooms”, we handle our bizness… thank you very much. Seventy plus years of 12 step programs thriving says this is so.

I don’t abuse shit. I… am an addict.

And while you’re patting yourself on the back SAMHSA? I (and those like me) am working with the newcomer who doesn’t give a DAMN about National RECOVERY Month. They just don’t want to die. Same as me. Perhaps all that money you’re spending on fliers and advertising could go to folks who need a damn treatment BED. Just sayin.

I love recovery.

Disclaimer: All the words listed in italics above are quotes directly from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. If you find them and email (soberandsassy@yahoo.com) me… I’ll take you out for coffee. Or I’ll send you a gift card and we can webcam drinking it together and shoot the shit recovery style. (I’m not kidding) Tell a girl. 

I’m sitting here watching the hurricane in awe of the tremendous force that is slamming down upon the east coast. It’s moving into even more (personally) uncomfortable territory now… as I have people I talk to daily – who I share every moment of my life with  - whom I love very much in Jersey, New York , Boston. Ugh.

At these moments all a person can do is send positive vibes, pray, meditate … or whatever you want to call it that floats your boat. (rain, flood, boat… *groan*) Talk about powerlessness.  To think that someone you adore is in harms way is quite unnerving and try as I might I cannot sleep.  But instead of freaking out and pacing and being relatively useless… I sit and I think positive things with all my might; that the ones I love will make it through this night. That they will survive Mother Nature and her hellaciousness. That’s what recovery has taught me. Love with all my heart and trust that things are going to go exactly as they’re going to … go.

My job is to be an instrument… third step prayer style.  ( and remember… God as YOU understand God… whom I choose to call “something bigger than me consciousness of the universe” or something like that. I don’t attempt to define… that.)

God, I offer myself to Thee-
To build with me
and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self,
that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties,
that victory over them may bear witness
to those I would help of Thy Power,
Thy Love, and Thy Way of life.
May I do Thy will always!

Yeah. Like that. Let me be an instrument of hope and faith and courage. May I create a consciously positive reality as a member of the human race; in good times or times of natural disasters. Goodnight friends. Rest easy. Know that you are loved… and be safe.

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

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

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

I was spoiled.

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

Ahem. Talk about a change.

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

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

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

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

How amazing is it to be able to fly? – first rhetorical question.

My goodness we are so small. – first philosophical ideation.

Yes. I am childlike. Yes, I like that about me.  Yes, I’m flying to see my guy and am excited as a pig in pudding to be on a plane.  Of course experience drives me so I started tapping at my trusty keyboard.  As I glanced out of the window it was if I was seeing the enormity of the world all over again.  Putting on a bird’s eye view, so to speak.

We make ourselves small.  Of course we have to focus on our daily lives; the small stuff is important. But how often do we think about ourselves as a “global community”? That we are part of something bigger? That Wal Mart shopping or what trashy outfit the recently divorced neighbor lady is wearing … might not be that important.

How often do we ponder the big things in life? Kindness. Courage. Acceptance. Connections. Freedom. Have versus have not. Where is our mind set? Why are we here? What’s the point? I have no idea. But as I fly high above the world, it feels big.

I talk to the flight attendant who is sweet as pie. She is kind and smiling and I like that. We look out the window at the sun over the clouds. How easy it can be to connect with others. Truth be told I’d never had that before recovery.

So wrapped up in the selfishness of my pathetic cynicism all I cared about was what you could do for … me. Even in early recovery. It does take a while for our eyes to open yes? Think newborn kitties … only concerned with their next meal.

Seeing the bigger picture comes with recovery maturity. Odd phrase I know … but there are phases of growth in the recovery process. When we begin to see ourselves as part of our recovery family it is miraculous. How about growing to the point where we see all of humanity as our family… amazing thought.

Anyway, I’m on vacation. Heading for the beach this morning … which is a whole other “huge” experience. I suppose (I KNOW) my HP talks to me through nature. (to the point of tears hence I had to write this) Hard to deny seeing that there are things greater than me when getting a bird’s eye view.  Absolutely breathtaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterday was an odd day.

I was going to write about a slogan or something ‘rote’ straight from the recovery toolbag, but as usual I need to write about the things that are happening right now.  I mean that’s what recovery is about yes? Learning to be clean/sober and most of all ‘right minded’ through the every day to day malarky.  Agreed? Agreed. And besides this is a big part of my catharsis.  Consider it my ‘share’. Ahem. *cracks knuckles*

Like I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, yesterday was an odd day.  Internal signals pointed to happy and more importantly balanced.  Woke up in the frigid cold (-2 btw. bleck.) to go to work with a smile. (Even though it was so cold that when I took a deep inhale through my nose … it froze. My gramma used to call this ‘sugar boogers’. Ew. I know right?)

Anyway, I was content to just be.  I love those days.  I’m at work and I’m struck by the several people I observed (I work with the public so yeah. interesting. In my days as an investigator for Children’s Services I didn’t even see people this scary. Seriously.) This was the interchange that knocked my proverbial socks off.

Husband – “You’re so stupid. You forgot the money? I guess we’ll put it on a card. Dumb ass.”

Wife – “No. You took all my money last night to go to the bar.”

Husband – “Typical. Stupid bitch. Can’t do anything right. You lost that money.”

Wife (embarrassed and red faced at this point) – “Shhh. People can hear you.”

Husband – “I don’t care. Everyone knows you’re stupid. EVERYONE! Now give me the damn credit card. Know what? YOU pay for it. Stupid.”

The smell of last night’s liquor nearly knocked me to my knees as it wafted across my face before he stormed away from the desk.  Damn.  Poor lady. She mumbled an apology and the bitter stench of a night spent drunk spouted from her lips as well.  For one brief moment she looked me square in the eye and I mustered all the love and compassion that I had in my direct eye contact with her.  No words needed.

I remember those names. Those ‘mornings after’. That hell. I remember drowning that pain in an industrial sized bottle of the Captain (spiced of course).  In the year of the relapse … THAT was my existence. Oi. Wow. Talk about your past slamming you in the face as a reminder.  I was grateful and teary eyed and muttered a quick mantra of ‘thank you thank you thank you thank you’.

I was totally jazzed to pick up the mini ninjas from their visit.  Ninja house is SO not a home when they are gone. Blah. Racing from work to start a fire (temps in the teens by this point. double bleck) I want it warm and cozy for their return, where they belong.  I get their favorite fuzzy footed pajamas ready, bubble bath in place, and cookie dough ready for baking. (yes the kind in a tube. i work full time shush. homemade cookies are for when you have the time.)

Head bopping to some seriously loud music and slamming down some seriously strong coffee, I see Prince Charmingless at the dropoff point.  Scowling as usual.  I smile sweetly. It’s my thing.  Ninjas race to me yelling MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. Yeah. We got it like that.  Nestled into the warm van with juice boxes and tapping on their DS’ after a dozen or so hugs and kisses upon greeting, we’re off to our epic return to Ninja House.

“Gramma was so mean to BooBoo.” my oldest, Lainey Bear, divulged. Noncommittally I nod, she just wanted an ear… to hear. It spilled.  Apparently my middle ninja, who had complained of a tummy ache, ‘spilled’ it all over the carpet at the home of the “Less’”. My ex-(thank god) mother-in-law, aka “HappyLess” mother of “CharmingLess”, prizes her house more than anything. Yeah. Like that.

So when poor little BooBoo emptied her tummy on the carpet, all hell broke loose. I was called an damn idiot, stupid, and yes … get ready for this one … the “B” word. In front of my children, matter of fact, TO my children. About their mother for sending them on visitation.  Nice.

All I could think about was my poor baby, sick and embarrassed, having to deal with not feeling well and then some crazy people who are selfish and mean. MEAN. So mean that it’d make the hairs on your neck stand up and run the hell away. MEAN.

I explain to all three that name calling isn’t very nice. That it’s okay if people don’t like me and are angry with me. But what was NOT okay was her being mean to them. EVER.  A litany of “it’s not your fault baby” and “i’m sorry you were so sick” and “you didn’t do anything wrong” and a gazillion hugs and kisses seemed to soothe young hearts just a bit.

(oh yes. and a high five to BooBoo for hitting the carpet. score.)

Throughout this whole interchange all I felt (besides sadness for ninjas) was gratitude. And as much as I despise rhetoric, it’s the best word for the feeling. Immense heartfelt gratitude that I don’t live that way anymore. “MEAN” is not my average, if you know what I mean. MEAN doesn’t live here anymore.

Recovery, and all the love and joy and hope and courage that comes with,  has once again replaced the “mean” that was my daily existence while married to CharmingLess.  In a warm home with the smell of freshly baked cookies (shush about the store bought thing. ahem) with three clean ninjas cheeks still pink from the warm bath, all snug in fuzzy footed pajamas, we don’t know… MEAN any longer.

It is enough.

Been down so long that I’m lookin’ up from the floor.  ~ Ruby S.

(and not in that ‘good come get me big boy’ kinda laying on the floor either. which is another topic altogether. not relevant. shush.)

Knowing what to expect, even and especially when that expectation is self-fulfilled and self-propelled time and time and time … again. Where everything is flip flopped and good is bad and right is wrong and fail is all I’ve ever known.  I felt this way in early recovery. Back as a nineteen year old drunk who was going to treatment to keep my fast ass outta jail. (didn’t work by the way but i looked damn good in orange)

Everything ‘healthy’ was so strange like an infomercial at 3 AM with an overly exuberant Jay ‘The Juiceman’ Kordich where his epically bushy eyebrows talk to me about the power of BEING HEALTHY and how everything in my life will change if would just juice this damn pineapple!!!! (do NOT ask me how I know this. I shan’t tell you. no matter how much you beg)

Feelings being shared. Kindness. Understanding. Not being allowed to make ANY more excuses.  Felt like an uncomfortable hug being held just a little too long.  I’m not really the touchy feely type anyway … unless with my kids or my epically handsome boyfriend.  Then all bets are off baby. Kisses all around.  Otherwise I value personal space immensely.  And to have all these people hand shaking hugging and all up in my grill? Oh hell no.

Of course it changed.  Because I allowed it to sink in through osmosis.  That there was indeed hope to be found in recovery and I didn’t have to believe the lies that my head slammed into the brick wall day after day.  I wasn’t sick but bad.  I could never change.  These people were crazy. (okay some things haven’t changed but I’m getting better. promise.)

This still happens today in different ways.  As I sit here I realize that one of my biggest fears is of … success.  Perhaps I actually CAN achieve my dreams.  I CAN have a healthful loving relationship (and am). The future is bright.  IF I succeed, then I am responsible.  Big-word-don’t-like-it-not-even-a-little.  Swimming in a sea of responsibility with three children, overbearing parents, work, work, work, and then writing (which isn’t work REALLY but IS time consuming); I feel so spread thin that I channel transparency – aka ‘the glass whisperer’.  A life well lived is a busy life blah blah blah. Whatever.

But it’s about taking that next uncomfortable step.  Whatever that may be.  Whether getting your ass to that meeting you don’t want to go to or picking up that 100 pound phone or a new job or a new place to live or submitting writing or finishing this damn book I’m working on in the short spaces left over in between responsibility and sleep.  *deep breath* K.

There is a spark.  That will not die. That says “keep at it no matter what”.  Recovery has given me that spark, for before 1992, up was down, good was bad, and right was wrong. (as much as I despise those words … they fit. poetic license people)  Having the wisdom to know the difference makes me accountable to KEEP seeking that next goal, step, jump, slither, baby step.

Thank the gods, whomever they may be, that it’s a process.  Too much happiness slammed on me all at once might damn near kill me.  I can do pain, sorrow, misery with panache and flair and look damn good doing it too. (damn straight)  But this ‘no drama’ thing happening since I got my head out of my proverbial ass?  Holy crap. It’s a doozy.

So responsibility begets accountability begets accessibility to the idea that I can be more. Do more. Achieve more. And recovery (you inanimate thing that I have personified so often), I thank you. Recovery. It’ll love you back.