In Good Company

I have the ability to feel lonely in spite of the fact that my life is so full of wonderful people.

I am single and have been that way for many years. The last couple of years of my drinking I had cut myself off from other people to a great degree. I had good reason to feel alone. I had a few friends left, but I had to limit contact with them for fear of alienating them with my attitude and my endless issues and dramas.

The difference today is that I am surrounded by a group of people that are so much like me. Most of us are learning how to reintroduce people and relationships back into our lives. For me the process is slow.

Last night I had dinner and a long visit with two fairly new friends. This weekend, I have plans to have dinner with an old friend and spend a good bit of time with my fellows in and out of meetings. Really, all I have to do is stop turning down invites and show up where my peeps gather. Easier said than done for this loner.

It has been a sustained effort on my part to stay connected to folks. In recovery, people come and people go. We are a dynamic little tribe. Sometimes my little social scene is jumping and sometimes the phone seems to go quiet. When the phone goes quiet, if I do not make an effort to reach out fairly soon, I find myself slipping into loneliness.

I don’t feel lonely this morning. I am in good company. I’m just glad you guys put up with me and my stuff.

Hold that thought...
James

First, I Fail

The failure to handle difficulties on my own has led to many good things in recovery. My faith grows stronger every year in the process of surrender, reaching out for help and then taking action that has worked for me in the past.

One of the books in my program of recovery talks about the Steps leading to a faith that works. For me, faith is born out of action and results. When I take action and it works, then I have true faith in the power of that action. That is one of the blessings of having a little time under my belt in recovery. I have the knowledge of what has helped me in the past and the faith that if I return to it again, it will once again work.

The last couple of months have been a particularly challenging time in my sobriety. Experience kept telling me to return to things that had worked for me before. After sitting down with my sponsor and discussing this, I realized one of my options was to return to the therapist that was instrumental in getting me into recovery and helping me in my first four years.

Of course my mind says, “Oh, it will take weeks to get in to see her.” I called anyway and they had a cancellation yesterday afternoon. It seems that it was meant to be. I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life. What a wonderful feeling to walk out of there with a list of actions to take that will help me get through this difficult time.

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest guy in the world to be in recovery, with so many resources at my fingertips. It is a foundation of support that helps me get through good and bad times, sane and sober. All I have to do is reach out. All I have to do is ask. All I have to do is take some action. But, first I have to fail. I have to fail at handling it all by myself, in my own head. Surrender - the first step.

Hold that thought...
James

A Confession

While I did not Tweet a wiener on Twitter, I am a lesbian blogger in Damascus.

I am actually a young girl from Syria and have been posing as an aging, neurotic gay blogger-dude in the United States to draw attention to the plight of self-obsessed, effeminate recovering alcoholics in the West.

I chose the Southern U.S. because religious extremist have a particular foothold in the area, often attempting to control the government. Many gay drunkies and junkies are forced to live a double life, shielding their activities from authorities. I have only tried to illuminate the journey of these often marginalize men for a global audience.

While the narrative voice may have been fictional, the facts on this blog are true and not misleading as to the situation on the ground. This experience has, sadly, only confirmed my feelings regarding the often skewed media coverage in the United States and the pervasiveness of new forms of conservative nationalism. However, I have been deeply touched by the reactions of readers.

Nahhh, only kidding. But, I did have three Snickers and four packages of Peanut M&Ms yesterday. That’s the bad news. The good news is I did go to the gym this morning and I haven’t drank.

Hold that thought...

James

A Hangover of Sorts

Well, that didn’t make me feel any better.

I was just sure that those five pieces of fried chicken, a pint of Blue Bell ice cream and 100 minutes of Ashton Kutcher would do the trick. Once again, I was so wrong. That is the way my best thinking tells me to survive an evening of self-created insanity.

I guess, in a way, it worked as I did survive the night. Although, I woke this morning with a hangover of sorts. I did not want to go to the gym, nor did I want to write this blog. My thoughts were that the gym was an act of futility, doing me absolutely no good. My mind says, “For God’s sake man, let yourself go like everyone else. Embrace the Buddha belly, let your ear hairs grow - you are fifty freakin’ years old!” 

I came very close to logging on this morning and posting a blog saying I was going on hiatus. I just keep thinking that I am tired of hearing myself and reading myself. Blah, Blah, Blah.

My program tells me to get my whiny ass off the couch, get to the gym and then to the keyboard. So, that is what I did. It also tells me to try to eat better today and go see my sponsor tonight. I also suspect I may be back to the 2nd Step again. That is traditionally where I need to go back to when I start getting discouraged about the future of my mental state. I also usually need to get back to the basics of what has worked for me before - things like picking up a new sponsee, doing something that creates a little spiritual excitement or making that amend I have been putting off.

It is alcoholic thinking like this that makes some folks in recovery say that their mind has a contract out on their ass. It’s this kind of thinking that, left unchecked, can lead someone like me to say, “I might as well have a beer with that fried chicken.”

I am just thankful that this morning my hangover is from, animal fat, sugar and self-pity rather than the hooch.

Hold that thought...

James

Alone with Self

It seems I have a lot of symptoms that indicate I suffer from a preoccupation with self. Hey, I may not be much but I’m all I think about.

I was reading about homeopathic remedies, and I ran across an article about the treatment of those suffering inner loneliness resulting from being too centered on self. It said that this preoccupation with self causes a failure to connect or stay connected with others. It went on to say that the condition is accompanied by the urge to talk about oneself and the need for constant attention and care.

Talk about oneself? Who me? Of course, I am a tad better than I used to be. This is a quote from the article: “There is great inner urging to share through words; talkativeness is an important characteristic... Inner pressure of loneliness and self-related worry needs to be expressed; the craving for attention and sympathy needs to be stilled.” I can definitely see that in myself and many folks in recovery, especially newcomers.

It even goes on to say that when these self-centered people can not get the kind of attention and care they seek through words they will resort to such things as feigning sickness. As a recovering hypochondriac, I find this interesting.

Just like in the meeting I was in last night where the topic was self-centeredness, this remedy suggested opening the mind to the needs of others. Again I see that common thread that runs throughout the suggestions of philosophers, healers and teachers across the years and throughout the world.

I left the meeting last night thinking about the connection between self-centeredness and loneliness because a friend shared that he found them to be bound tightly together. Now I see this same connection made in this article on homeopathy.

Since loneliness is definitely something I suffer from occasionally, I will continue to live the Steps the best I can, hoping that my self-centeredness is reduced and my connection to others may grow - one day at a time.

Hold that thought...

James

Saint Kirstie Help Us

As I reached another personal best at the gym this morning, it really made me think about how this process has been so much like the process required to keep me from drinking.

Surrender had to come before I could overcome the resistance to, and the fear of walking into the gym for the first time. For me that happened on December 23, 2009 with a giant jar of homemade peanut brittle. Nearing the bottom of that jar, with peanut brittle caked in my teeth and grease on the roof of my mouth, I picked up the phone and called the fitness center. That was not an easy step for me. Gyms and I had been on bad terms ever since elementary school.

As I started working out, I realized that I was experiencing a real fear that I was going to keel over and have a heart attack or at least look like an idiot. But I kept going back and gradually built the faith that even though discomfort was part of the process, it was most likely not going to kill me.

Continuing to go on a regular basis was extremely hard for me and I fell short many times, and I am sure I will again. Maintaining the willingness to talk about it to others and pray for help has been indispensable for me. Many of my Facebook friends have had to read along with my struggles with getting back to the gym. It seems to help me to post when I am and when I’m not going. Not sure why - maybe accountability? Praying to St. Kirstie Alley, patron saint of the eternally struggling, aging pudgies may have been the saving grace, not sure.

The value of perseverance is something I have learned in recovery. With exercise, it has been the key. Not necessarily the perseverance to never miss a day, or a week or even a month, but the perseverance to keep going back, no matter what.

It has been almost a year and half since I started doing this thing. That is not a long time relative to many other folk, but for me it is amazing. I hate to sweat, I am a pansy and I am 50 freaking years old. I guess it is never to late to teach an aging, over-eating, quitting-smoking, alcoholic, neurotic, sissy dog new tricks.

I sure feel better.

Hold that thought...

James

Regret Not

There have been a few wise people in my past who have encouraged me to do things, if for no other reason than, to protect me from future regret.

More than a few times, I have done “the right thing” and the results did not seem fair or favorable. Sometimes the reward for doing the right thing is getting something warm and fuzzy in return, but sometimes it just protects me from regret.

Facing the decision of whether to jump on a plane and be with a loved one that is ill or not, the advice I have gotten has been to do thing what will not place me in danger of future regret. For me that has been to go when in doubt. I have never regretted a trip and at times the rewards were priceless and if I had not gone on the regrets would have been acute.

When my aunt came to help me, my dad and my mom when my mom was dying, one of the first things she said was that we needed to get through what lied ahead without my dad and I having any regrets. So, we went to great lengths to discuss and discuss each decision and made every effort to include everyone appropriate in the decision-making process. Even though we may have made some things a little harder than they had to be, if nothing else it was all protection from regret - the ‘gift that just keeps on giving’. The end result of good effort is not always a happy ending. My mom still died and it was very hard on all involved, but we live regret-free.

Do I go on that date or not? If I do, it could result in a something warm and fuzzy or it may be a dud. If I go, I don’t have to eternally wonder what I may have cheated myself or someone else out of.

I am sure today that doing the right thing is only just about getting obviously good results, but it also places me in the right place at the right time to live free and clear of guilt, doubts and regrets.

Hold that thought...

James

To Thine Own Self

I recently read a quote miss-attributed to Kurt Cobain that originally came from André Gide, a French author and winner of the Nobel Prize in literature in 1947. The quote is “It is better to be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not.”

This idea seems to go hand-in-hand with the quote that appears on the silver chips given out in some meetings - “To thine own self be true.” I am not sure about Kurt Cobain’s connection with the first quote, but there is a significance to it in my book - Kurt’s journey ended in a drug overdose. 

I am on a journey to discover the true nature of who I am. I need to uncover and make peace with my virtues as well as my shortcomings regardless of how they are judged by my fellows. Only then will I be able to live comfortably in my own skin. I am hoping that as I draw closer to this goal, I will find it easier to love others. I want to become more honest and giving. I want to tear down the barriers I have built up between myself and others, between myself and the joy of living and between myself and a higher power.

I don’t have to understand why it is so important that I find the truth about myself, make peace with it and make spiritual progress. The stories of others that have gone before me assure me it is so.

I have made a mere beginning. I would still rather be loved for who I am not, than hated for who I am.

Hold that thought...

James

Endlessly at Odds

I always fancied myself a ‘social activist’. Cocktail in hand, I would rant and rave with no one to listen. When campaign season came around, I found it easier to justify bombarding friends and family with my unsolicited opinions. In fact, I fancied it as my duty. It has caused me trouble.

My tendency in life has been to blame everyone else for my woes. I have always found myself in the minority. Growing up and living in the South as a not-so-christian, gay, liberal does not and will not ever place me in the mainstream. It never got me into a fraternity or the Junior League. It has given me plenty of fodder over which to feel victimized. It has given me an excuse to feel disenfranchised and apart-from; a reason to blame others for my shortcomings and missed opportunities in life. 

The reason that I know today that my opinions are not just sound, social judgements is that they are inflamed, disturbing and serenity-sucking. They can make me feel outnumbered and discouraged. My ego and fears are so interwoven that it is difficult for me to listen to someone who is on the other side of the fence without feeling threatened and angry. This is not sound nor sane.

This is one of the areas I have had to inventory. I had to find my part in these feelings of anger and fear. The fact is,  I tend to focus on the differences between myself and others. I, more frequently than not, shy away from groups and people who might have received me with open arms. I balk at being a brother among brothers and a worker among workers. I have insisted on being either better-than or less-than. I am the one who has placed myself endlessly at odds with my fellows.

I am the one who gives the people around me the power to hurt me. If I truly found my peace and happiness in the spiritual realm, I would not find those around me so threatening. The entire world could ‘go to hell in a handbasket’ and the Master would just see that as an opportunity to help others. But me - I still find my security and rewards in your approval rather than in service to those around me.

Discovering these kind of things in an inventory is just the first step towards their correction. At least I now know the problem is mine and not ‘yours’. That means I can change it with the help of a higher power.

It’s already gotten better.

Hold that thought...

James

Wearing Thin

It’s getting hot. My patience is wearing thin. When I am asked these days how I am doing, my thought is “Okay, until I am not okay.” Okay until I drop a pen or a car chooses to travel in my lane. Okay, until someone annoys me.

I am not always this on edge, but lately I have been. The last couple of days I picked back up a book I had been reading. It is called “Buddha is as Buddha Does”. I had left off at the Third Paramita - Patience. When I open myself up, the Universe provides just what I need. I am reading and re-reading. I have been trying to put into use some of the techniques the book suggests.

The first kind of patience the book suggests is what we in the program call “restraint of tongue and pen”. This author calls it the “Sacred Pause”.  But, like line in recovery, the book says we must do more. He talks about what we call finding our part in the situation, specifically he suggests we accept that our lack of patience is the problem, not the situation at hand. He suggests that I then ask myself “Who is this person?”, “How can I identify with him or her?” and last of all “Why is he or she deserving of my patience?”

Oh, one last thing - the action part. I always hate this part. “Decide on - and commit to - at least one specific step I can take toward this person to demonstrate my active patience.” This sounds suspiciously like “amending” my behavior. Sometimes I really hate being a grown up.

Hold that thought...

James

My Reminders

The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness.  ~Eric Hoffer, The Passionate State of Mind, 1954

This quote has been rolling around in my head for about three days. It seems to be rooted in Eastern teaching, but it also runs parallel with what I am taught in recovery. I am being taught that the search for a power greater than myself and service to others is where my efforts should be spent and that happiness can be a by-product of those efforts.

I get unhappy and try to think my way out of it. I try to eat my way out of it. I try to buy my way out of it. I have even started trying to exercise my way out of it. I go to a lot of meetings to try to escape discontentment. I call people up to see if they can make me happy. Eventually I get really tired, fat, broke and discouraged.

I was discussing Step Five with some folks yesterday and was again pondering the connection between God and my fellows in recovery. I reflected back on my meeting with my sponsor the day before and thought about what he shared with me after I told him how I had fallen short of effective with a sponsee.

As usual, he talked about God. 

Just like with my trying to control and eventually trying to stop drinking, I try and try on my own steam to conjure, manipulate, wrest, tweak, twist, force, and maneuver my way out of every jam I get myself into. It is only after repeated failure do I go to anyone for any kind of guidance. In recovery, the people always point me towards a spiritual solution.

So, again, I find myself digging out and dusting off my spiritual materials. I read, yesterday, the teachings of a spiritual leader that I respect and was immediately lifted out of my self pity and discontentment. It continues to baffle me how I can again and again forget what the entire point of my program is. Maybe I just need to get a big tattoo on my forehead (written backwards of course for the mirror) that says, “Seek spiritually when experiencing any discomfort.”

Somehow self-seeking always starts seeming like the answer to all my problems, again. That is why I mustn’t stray too far from my reminders. You know who you are. Thanks.

Hold that thought...

James

Drinking Again

I have been kept sober since the day I walked in to recovery and asked ‘those people who stay sober one day at a time’ to help me. For six years I have been alternatively glad to be sober and not so glad to be sober. Every time one of my friends decides to drink again or returns to the program for help, it sets off a storm of thoughts and emotions in my head.

I would suspect that this same thing has been happening in these rooms for over 75 years. I suspect it is part of the recipe that works to keep us from taking the first drink. When these folks return, their suffering is acute, their confusion is running high and their health is at a low. More than a few times this has been served up to me on a day that I show up at a meeting with thoughts of drinking, again, running around in my little pea-brain.

So far, I have only had two friends that returned to drinking and seem to be doing fine. How many leave recovery never to return, and live happily-ever-after? I will never know. These thoughts run through my mind over and over as the years go by. The thoughts persist even though I have found nothing but friendship, love and laughter with these people. 

On a day when I am courting feelings of discontentment with my sobriety and a friend decides to drink or use again, it is not unusual for me to feel left behind - the nerd, the loser - going to another meeting on a Friday night. Confused and stunned, I sit there and wonder what it is all about. I get engrossed in thoughts of myself and what I might be missing out on. My mind begins to eat away at my resolve to stay sober.

That is where this power we talk about that keeps us sober so important. Thus far, I have kept doing the things that are suggested in the book our program is based on and have continued to hang out with people in recovery - thus far the thinking subsides and I am kept sober another day. I wake up the next day, almost without exception, so grateful that I did not drink. I am filled with relief that I do not have to go through the pain of early sobriety again.

The physical suffering of sobering up is not the only thing that I do not want to repeat. I also do not want to have to go though the confusion and fear that I see my fellows endure on their return. And, I certainly do not want to repeat that first year of discomfort that comes with ego-leveling.

Of course all the thoughts I ponder of what it would be like to return to sobriety after drinking would be moot if I were to drink and never make it back to recovery. I have known a couple that relapsed and died before they could come back. I know many others that were incarcerated before they could return.

There are a lot of things in the process of recovery that keep me sober, I think that the relapse of my fellows may be one of them. Yesterday, I got to share an evening with someone I love that has returned yet again from a relapse. Again, his journey has set a storm of thoughts and emotions off in my head. Again, I have been kept sober one more day.

Hold that thought...

James

Keeping the Faith

The subject of faith popped up a couple of times in my day yesterday. Since I am more Pagan than Saint, my faith has not been in the magical powers of a deity. Although, just in case, I pray to one every day! Maybe someday it will evolve into a more traditionally religious kind of faith.

After being dragged through a number of tough times sober over the last few years, my faith in the guiding principles of the Steps has increased immensely. My faith that, when applied, the principles will enable me to match calamity with serenity has bloomed. I am sure today that the principles will solve all my problems, not just the drinking problem, if I choose to practice them.

Each principle has an opposite. I have gotten the chance, with a little time, to see what happens when I choose dishonesty over honesty, for example. I have chosen the way of both in my sobriety. Many times my mind says, “Lie, Lie, Lie!” I have more faith every day, that if I do the uncomfortable thing and be honest, all will turn out better.

This goes with all the other principles of the Steps - exercising hope as opposed to pessimism, trust as opposed to skepticism and courage as opposed to avoidance. Results have been better when I chose the way of integrity instead of dishonorable motives, practiced willingness instead of stubbornness and bent to humility instead of relying on self. Treating others with love rather than intolerance or contempt has paid off numerous times, as well as placing value in justice rather than protection of an unhealthy ego. Perseverance, meditation and service have given me so many more rewards that their opposites. Although, of course, my mind still says “Quit, go for the quick high and relax.” I often fall short, and make a less than optimum choice.

These are the principles, when practiced, that have changed my life. They are what I believe will keep me safe through coming trials and tribulations. 

Having said all that, I still pray to God at least every morning and every night and usually many times throughout the day. At first, being some sort of heathen/pagan/christionoid/buddhist was a confusing and uncomfortable for me, but you guys said just keep coming back. You said you prayed and you were kept sober, so I did too and will continue to pray my ass off.

Like our literature says, the important thing for me was to quit the debating team. That was getting me no where. It tells me all I have to do is seek. Today, I am comfortable with my beliefs being fluid, because in the mean time, my faith in the principles, the steps, the process, the program is strong enough to get me through the day.

Hold that thought...

James

Bluebirds and Posies

I haven’t seen many posies or bluebirds lately. If I am still sober after passing through this current challenge to my sanity, I will emerge with an even stronger faith in this process and way of life.

If it seems to you that I have sounded a little frantic in the last month, searching for the right tool to use to get me through one more day, you are right. When I hear someone pulling out the one-day-at-a-time card for an extended period of time, I begin to worry a little about them, too.

The fact is that I have been experiencing something for the last couple of months that is affecting my thinking and emotions for physiological reasons. It is something I have not chosen to share about publicly as of yet, but I have been relying heavily on my sponsor, my fellows who live the 12-steps, friends, prayer, meditation, exercise, diet and writing. All these things I have learned from my teachers.

I am sure I will share about it once I have moved through it. I have chosen to take on this hurdle on the heels of quitting smoking a year and a half ago. Someday I will look back on this time of lunacy and be so grateful it is over. I will be so grateful for the power that pulled me through it, and I will be able to share about it. I know this because it has happened over and over again in my sobriety.

Anyone that knows me well, knows that I go for long periods of time when it seems bluebirds are singing all around me and posies are sprouting from my ass. They also know that I also go through periods when I seem to be frantically seeking solutions and desperately rummaging through the tools and techniques you guys have given me to get through the day.

The fact is that peace of mind is fleeting for me these days. I am given it everyday when I get up, go to the gym, share with you guys and do my prayer and meditation. But then, I walk out my door and it is replaced with frustration or discontent within an hour or two. Again, I use or apply some of the suggestions I am given in recovery and I am granted a reprieve. It may only be for minutes. But, I get to do this again and again until I am taken safely through the day and ultimately, I hope, this trying period.

This is how my faith grows in this ‘design for living’. This is why I no longer fear my insanity quite so much. This is why I am sure I will be okay if I don’t run, don’t hide and don’t take a drink.

Stick around and you’ll see posies sprout from my ass again. It is guaranteed to be nothing if not entertaining.

Hold that thought...

James

The Writes of a Slacker

When it comes to writing, I have always been a slacker.

In college, I would go to the first class to get the syllabus and check for papers to be written or essay tests. If there were any, I would shop around for the classes without them, then go to adds-and-drops and redo my schedule to avoid as much writing as possible.

So, a day and a half after my last drink (up until now), I walked into the office of a psychologist. When I walked in, I told her that before we were through she was going to tell me I needed to go see those people that help people quit drinking. She said to sit down. After I told her what I had been up to the last few years, she said she would not treat me if I did not go see those people. I said okay. I went that night and have been going ever since.

Now, the other thing she suggested I do was to keep a journal. I said okay. I had shared with her that I was having periods of depression that seemed to come out of nowhere for no reason. She said if I kept a journal I might start seeing some patterns. In12-step meetings, a heard a lot of people talk about writing, inventorying and journaling. I thought cool, that goes right along with what my therapist said to do.

I started a journal right away. I recorded my prayer to be kept sober in the mornings and my thanks at night. I kept track of how many meetings I made. I wrote about what went on in the meetings, the people I met and my fears. I did this consistently for about two years, then sporadically for another couple of years. For the last two years I had just turned to writing to do an inventory when my derrière was on fire.

This blog, motivated by ego I am sure, is resulting in my return to writing in recovery. It is becoming a sanity-saver. Except for a couple of black eyes from cranky readers, it has been a pleasant and enlightening experience. Even the shots from critics are good for me.

One friend of mine likes to say that writing things down helps to hold his thoughts still, so he can get a good look at them. Our literature says it helped 100 hopeless alcoholics get sober in the 1930s and it has been working ever since. My therapist said it would be a good idea and she rocks.

It still feels like a chore. I can still think of tons of things to do with the hour a day I spend on this writing thing. But, one day at a time, I am writing again. If I had to say what the greatest benefit of it is for me, it would be that it helps me get a little more honest with myself and others. That’s not easy for me. On Twitter the other day, someone shared “Every time I try to be honest, I lie.” I would not have understood that statement when I first got into recovery. Writing, among other things in the program, has allowed me to see why someone would say that.

Thanks for the love, tolerance and patience you have shown me as I grow up in public. Thanks for giving this slacker a second chance.

Hold that thought...

James

Wresting

Easy does it. Who would have thunk it?

An ex-boss once told me that I had a “sense of urgency” about me. She told me she was glad that I had it due to the nature of our deadline oriented work, but I might want to ease up a bit. I am one of those folks recovery literature talks about that is “a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well.” I  looked up the word ‘wrest’ and it says: to twist or turn; pull, jerk or force by violent twist. That’s me alright.

I read once in some Buddhist literature that approaching tasks with “ease and attention” is most effective. My innate style, although, is the first - twist, turn, pull, jerk or force by violent twist. So many of our meeting rooms have slogans framed on our walls as reminders of these age-old bits of wisdom. A friend of mine who is not in a 12-step program referred to them as our “bumper sticker philosophies”. Works for me.

I don’t think it would have ever crossed my mind that easy would ever do anything, except maybe get me out of those dime store Chinese finger handcuffs. I have always been sure that I better worry, calculate, pre-meditate and endlessly cogitate on anything I plan to do. Then, it would behoove me to bear down on what ever the task may be, like my very life depends on it. And god forbid anything goes wrong. If it does, I better fix it quickly before anyone finds out what a loser I am. Thinking like this does nothing to keep me sane or serene. It is no more effective than the easier, softer way either.

So, as I face today, I will try to remember “Easy does it”. Life throws enough twists, pulls, jerks and violent twists at me without me creating more. Today I will focus on approaching things with ease and attention.

Wish me luck. 

Hold that thought...

James

 

Getting Me Down

The first time I ever went snow skiing, I read a brochure before we started. It said that skiing was a sport that tries the human spirit. I remember thinking, “Why am I doing this?”

Life is like that for me sometimes. Last week was one of those weeks that really tested my spirit. It was a touchstone of my spiritual condition. My spiritual condition proved to be not-so-great.

As a beginner skier, so much energy is wasted by fighting every turn, every rise and fall; falling and getting up over and over. That is what last week reminded me of. I found myself off in the trees several times. A couple of times faced with moguls as far as the eye could see. Once getting blindsided by an inconsiderate, fallible fellow skier. I found myself praying for someone to get me down from that mountain before I hurt myself. When I get like that, I start to think, “Why am I doing this?”

Something did get me down off that mountain safe and sound. Turns out that I was safe all along. Literally millions of people on this planet faced real problems last week. Mine were self-created and mostly imaginary. If it weren't for the love and guidance of my fellows, I would become lost in this delusion like I was years ago. Now, I just have shorter little trips into that place and eventually I am led back to safety.

At some level as I struggled -  I knew that my regular meeting with my sponsor, a meeting with a sponsee, twice daily prayer and meditation and a spattering of meetings would carry me through the week safely. I then planned a day off to make this weekend a three-day affair.

This weekend, I surrounded myself with the people that I love and I draw so much strength from. Morning, noon and night I spent with my people. As always the effect on my outlook and attitude was amazing. Heart to heart talks, helping someone in a worse condition than myself and going out and having pizza with a troop of rowdy recovering alcoholics were just a few of the things that refreshed my spirit and renewed my optimism. I have been pulled back to reality - the reality that i am one lucky son of a gun. As I begin a beautiful day off, I feel happy to be alive. My house is clean and I am back to the gym. I will try to eat healthier today.

It takes a village to keep James on track - and now and then the ski patrol. Occasionally you guys carry me down the mountain and sometimes you tell me to quit my bitching and ski. On a few occasions you have just rolled my ass down. Somehow, I am always taken care of.

Thank the gods, it works when you work it.

Hold that thought...

James

p.s. new logo - no more briefs! yeah!

Knifed

The Dalai Lama Facebooked me this morning - well, me and few thousand of his closest pals.

He says love, compassion & concern for others are REAL sources of happiness. Hmmmm. He says if I have them in abundance that I will not be disturbed by uncomfortable circumstances. If I nurse hatred that I will not be happy even in the lap of luxury.

Wish I had more of that stuff. Sometimes the compulsion to hate (really too strong of a word) is so powerful. Usually the urge is fueled by some self-righteous indignation or some perceived wrong done to myself. Or, it could have something to do with that knife sticking out of my back. Of course, in my life, there is always some happy, joyous and free 'doo-dah' nearby to tell me that if I were to examine that knife closely it would most likely have my fingerprints all over it.

Anyone who relies on the 12 Steps to negotiate life knows what is in store for me if I chose to deal with a resentment with the steps. We also know what's in store for us if we don't. Sometimes I feel like I just can't take the leveling of pride one more time. Sometimes King Baby wants someone else to humble their effin selves. As hard as finding my part in a situation can be, it pales in comparison to cleaning up my side of the street.

So, once more on this road to happy effin destiny, I get to make that third step decision - claim my part to the person whose knife is wedged between my shoulder blades or continue to nurse that resentment. Either way there are consequences. Again, I get to choose - be 'right' (or should I say righteous) OR be happy.

Honestly, still sticking with righteous here, contemplating the happy thing. More will be revealed they say.

Hold that thought...
James

Desire and Gratitude

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. - Epicurus (341 BC - 270 BC)

I am reminded that I begged for sobriety. I longed to own a house. I hoped for this life I have today.

Now ungrateful, I curse because I can not douse my angers and fears with alcohol. I resent my home for tethering me to discontent. They say happiness is an inside job. They say if you can’t be happy in your own backyard, you’ll never be happy anywhere. They must be happy freekin' mother effers.

So, desire for what I don’t have, desire for people to behave differently, desire for my day to have been easier, desire for anything other than what I already have - leads to discontent. 

There are many happy moments in my life, but they usually do not seem to coincide with thoughts of myself and what I don’t have or what I am not getting. When I am mulling over the good people in my life, a half-smile frequently creeps over my face. When I am thinking about how those ‘other people’ are making my life difficult, I get a crease between my eyebrows and everything in my life starts to look worthless.

Fear and anger turn my magical, magnifying mind from a positive, grateful perspective on my life to one that is very negative and uncomfortable. I become rather useless to others and a drag to be around. I get very discontent. I start to want to change the way I feel - muy pronto.

My experience tells me that I can not sit here and think or write myself into ‘not desiring’ anything. Experience tells me to take note of this self-centered focus, thank my higher power for what I have, get up, go shower, kiss the dogs and turn my thoughts to someone that may need my help. Put one foot in front of the other and do the next responsible thing and my thinking will eventually change.

I will eventually bump into some gratitude if I don’t run, don’t hide and don’t drink.

Hold that thought...

James

Life is Dukkha

Life is Dukkha.

I was reading a little bit about Buddha's First Noble Truth this morning after reading a blog post by a young addict struggling with physical pain and the urge take pain pills. I Googled the Buddha's quote while pondering suffering. I was remembering that as a young pampered prince, it was seeing a suffering man that set the Buddha off on his journey to enlightenment.

First let me say, I am in no way an expert on Buddhism. I can hardly spell it, much less teach it, but I am much more respectful of the followers of these teachings than I am the followers of any other religion.

So, remembering the Buddha's first noble truth as "Life is suffering", I Googled it. Turns out the Buddha didn't speak English. Go figure. He actually said that life is 'Dukkha." First it made me snicker. Sounds a little like "Life is Doo Doo", but that would be more like James First Less-Than-Noble Truth.

There is really no English translation for Dukkha. He describes Dukkha as suffering, but also as anything impermanent or changing, or any state which is dependent on anything else. So, Dukkha can also be happiness or bliss or any other state which is subject to change, which is just about anything.

So when I am having a shitty day, is it because life is Dukkha? When I am having a good day is it because life is Dukkha? No, the Buddha might just be suggesting the shit or the bliss is something fleeting. That I just need to pass through it, gently, today. Not cling to it, not judge it, not resist it, not fear it, just pass through it. Of course I could always be completely wrong.

Today. One day. Just for today. One day at a time. Sounds like there are a few "Noble Truths" lurking behind a few of the slogans in recovery.

So, as I trudge my road today, I am likely to step in something resembling Dukkha. I will most likely be okay if I just recognize it as just that, Dukkha, and just keep walking, no fear, no clinging, no resistance.

Let's try this one more day.

Hold that thought...
James

Exposed

Keeping my thoughts to myself seems to keep me focused on problems and negativity. Communicating my thoughts to others seems to lead towards solutions, hope and/or gratitude. When I lay my crazy thinking bare, the flaws are exposed and I am shamed into looking at things differently.

Some mornings I can hardly even imagine sitting down in front of a keyboard and sharing my gloomy, maudlin, bitchy, depressing thinking with anyone. When I do it anyway, something interesting happens. When the light of day is shone on my self-destructive thinking it seems, most of the time, to have the effect that bucket of water did on the Wicked Witch of the West.

I guess in a way, sharing comes with accountability. Unfortunately, I feel very free to abuse myself in the privacy of my own cranium. My goodness gracious, what would the neighbors think If they saw me commiserating with this struggling, recovering, fallible child of God. Behind shuttered windows, I sit here sharing a cup of coffee with him, running endless over his shortcomings, flaws and fears - stoking the fires of his pessimism. Shameless.

Of course everyday is not like this. Many days I wake full of enthusiasm, hope and contentment. Some days I am somewhere in between those extremes. But, the days I resist writing or sharing are the days when I am not feeling so good, ironically the days that I really need to do it. I can hardly contain myself when everything is coming up roses. I could ramble endlessly to all who are kind enough to listen, but on the dark days - I resist.

Lately, I have been wearing life like a horse hair robe and sharing has been difficult. Experience tells me though, that persistence is in order, and I must keep laying my thinking bare. So there.

Hold that thought...
James

Small World?

It’s as if someone out there is trying to get my attention.

Within 24 hours, two different people presented me with a completely new-to-me concept. They both used very similar words to describe an idea that, in my 50 years, I had not heard before. The effect was electrifying.

Both of these messengers questioned the idea of coincidental connections between people being the result of a ‘small-world’ effect. Both suggested a ‘big-connection’ cause instead. Each of these folks, within a very short time, suggested that unseen connections exist between certain humans, a web of connections actually. Both of these people are new friends of mine. Both entered my life at about the same time from different directions. Both delivered the same message in the same weekend. Strange but true.

The concept is important to me because I believe that isolation and addiction go hand in hand. The urge to avoid intimate contact with the human race tugs at me constantly as if it is a huge dark star to which some immutable law of the universe keeps me tethered. What I am becoming aware of though, is that I have not been consumed thus far by that force, so there must be a countering force that is keeping me connected and safe.

My instincts tell me to avoid connection with others, when intellectually I know that this is poison for me. Recovery offers me a way to stay connected within a very safe structure.

The timing of this pairing of messages is also interesting because lately I have been exploring other tools for connectedness. Writing this blog, joining a recovery community on Twitter and putting works of creativity out on Tumblr are new things I have been experimenting with. In marketing we talk about using social media to “push” messages. I have been playing with pushing myself out there in a more global way. I have been making some interesting connections with people in other countries and within other cultures.

My degree of connection with others is affected by the amount of action and transparency that I am willing to exercise. Is that connection already there, but unnoticed if I do not take the action? Is it merely converted from a potential to kinetic connection when the action is taken? The reason that I suspect this, is that so little action is required of me to make such powerful connections. Sometimes it is just walking out the door, going to a meeting or making a single phone call. An extremely meaningful encounter can result from just one tweet or just one post.

If someone out there is trying to get my attention, I am fairly sure they didn’t mean for me to complicate the message to the degree that I just did. It is a little heavy for a Monday morning. Hope I didn’t give anyone a headache. I think I am going to go take a couple of aspirin, have another cup of coffee, take a shower and had a fabulous day.

Toodellooo.

Hold that thought...

James

Stuck on Stupid

Not feeling good? Trying overeating a bunch of crap. Try charging a bunch of stuff on a credit card you can’t pay off. Try sleeping all day. Try drinking until you wake up outside in your own pee.

I think that is what they mean by ‘stuck on stupid’. Through experience, I know that I start feeling positive, hopeful and full of life when I do the opposite of everything I just mentioned above. Does that stop me from trying it again and again? So far, not (expept for the drinking and peeing part).

Wallowing in the mire of my self pity and destructive tendencies used to be something I had no antidote for, hence that kind of behavior used to be a very dangerous thing for me to dabble in. The last two days’ descent into the muck was sparked by not feeling well physically and trying to take a little break from a exercise and writing. For most people that would not be such a difficult thing. For this recovering alcoholic and addict, it can be tricky. 

The difference today is that I knew where I was going to be last night. I knew that it was going to make everything better. Once I got my lame ass to this meeting set out under a giant hack berry tree, under the hummingbird feeders, on a bluff just off the bay....everything began to be okay. Two hours with folks in that beautiful setting discussing spirituality and fellowship transformed me yet again. It led to having a long leisurely dinner with a new friend discussing the meaning of life and Star Wars pillowcases. Once again, I went to bed knowing that my life is a gift and that I would most likely be getting up and going back to the gym in the morning - that everything was okay.

In the midst of my self-inflicted mood, I posted some dribble about my little struggle on Facebook and a friend who naturally thinks a little differently from me suggested I spend some time with friends. I knew he was right, and I knew where to find them.

So the bad news is that I still behave at times like I am being ‘none too smart’. The good news is that I don’t have to stay ‘stuck on stupid’ indefinitely if I do not want to. Any time I wish, I can seek out my fellows, come to the table and join the conversation. I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to entertain. I don’t have to do anything but just suit up and show up. Eventually, the process unwraps me from around my own axle and I can breathe again. I can smile again.

By the way, one of those things I charged yesterday was Bluetooth headphones for music at the gym. Used ‘em this morning, love ‘em. They rock.

Thanks again guys.

Hold that thought...

James

Pooped

I am getting a little pooped. When I get pooped, I tend to get a little poopy.

This morning Blogspot was down, and I thought I was going to have an excuse for not writing a blogpost today. No one is making me write this blankity blank blog, so I shouldn't have to have an excuse to take a break. Right?

The problem is, my breaks turn in to long periods of inactivity. Whether it is going to the gym, dieting or blogging, it seems to be all or nothing for me. It really is a shame, because after awhile exhaustion begins to set in. I start wanting to quit whatever it is. I start to search for some noble reason why I just can't keep it up - an excuse that I can live with.

The truth is, moderation would solve everything. In the first teaching he delivered after his enlightenment, Buddha described the Middle Way as a path that led to liberation. The reality for me is that this is not something I can achieve completely alone and through shear will.

Applying the principles and tools of the 12 Steps is a way of letting a power greater than myself discipline me. Seventeen months ago I quit smoking. When I did, I returned to the gym. Have I been consistent with it? No. I go hard and heavy and then fall off and gain weight back. The difference this time is that, for the first time in my life I renewed a gym membership at the end of the first year. I am currently back at it for almost two months now. The not so great thing is, I have been every day now for almost three weeks. I am beginning to get tired. Maybe there is a power out there that will help me to take a break tomorrow and return Saturday.

Since I am straight-skinny, but still gay-fat, I have been on an unrelenting, restricted diet for eight weeks. I have taken a baby step towards the Middle Way. I have begun eating out once a week with a friend.

I have been taking a break from blogging on Saturdays. Maybe I need two days a week off. Balance is a bitch.

Poopy James is not pleasant.

Hold that thought...
James

Wanna Play?

I used to play. I used to draw and paint a lot when I was a kid. I did it just for the fun of it. There was something so uncomplicated, simple and pure about it. I was not out to impress anyone.

I remember getting my first camera. I took pictures of my dog and my family. I took pictures of fields and cows. My friend and I made little stages and set up miniature scenes populated with figures made of modeling clay and took pictures of them. This was back when creativity was play for me. 

My therapist used to talk about self-actualization. I had an inkling as to what this meant. I looked it up and saw that basically it meant coming to be all that I have the capability of being - reaching my potential. She saw in me so many untapped resources and talents. Fear of failure and lack of motivation had me frozen like Bambi on Highway 9.

At some point. exploring and cultivating my talents naturally, through play, became forced, laborious and scary. This happened in part, I believe, because I began doing some of these things as a career. So naturally, my work was judged at every turn. There was constant pressure to create something quickly that everyone loved.

I became calculating, tentative, self-conscious and self-berating when I tried to paint. As my life got more and more nuts, these traits manifested themselves in many areas of my life. Trying or doing new things started to feel way too risky. Fear and self-centeredness began to bind me tighter and tighter.

I eventually turned to others for help. I sought help through a church, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and a 12-step program. I read self-help books and studied Buddhism. All roads seem to lead in the same direction. They all seem to result in a release from this self-limiting state.

I was reading observations of Abraham Maslow who said -

Common traits amongst people who have reached self-actualization are:

• They embrace reality and facts rather than denying truth.

• They are spontaneous.

• They are ‘focused on problems outside themselves’.

• They ‘can accept their own human nature in the stoic style, with all its shortcomings’, are similarly acceptant of others, and generally lack prejudice.

These are not unusual traits of those in recovery who I think of as “old-timers who work a good program”.

That description also seemed to fit my therapist and other people who I saw living very fulfilling and peaceful lives. I find it fascinating that these traits either lead to, or are a result of, ‘being all that I can be’.

All I know is that the longer I stay sober, stay in integrity, help others and put one foot in front the other, my fears and self-consciousness seem to be lifting. It is exiting. I have begun to write, take pictures again and get into physical fitness. I am enjoying my work again. Maybe someday I will paint again.

At times, I am even beginning to feel a little playful.

Hold that thought...

James

Breathe

Pausing and taking a breath? Sounds simple, huh? Not for this hothead.

My ego is sensitive to others opinions, posturing and attempts at control. It responds as if it being attacked by a lion on the savannah. Pausing, breathing and restraint of pen and tongue are first in priority. It has taken a lot of pain and practice to make as much progress as I have today, but it’s a long road to Tipperary for this recovering asshole.

The last few days I have been having one of my “spells”. Some may call it a not-so-healthy spiritual condition. I suspect it is, once again, that my pride is out of level. My advisor defines a leveled ego as being right-sized. I have spent a long time in recovery beating myself up for not being able to stay right-sized. I am beginning to think that I may be ordinary in that sense.

See, that’s the problem. My instincts cry out at being ordinary. I was watching a documentary last night on stress. Scientists have determined that the lower down on the social or economic pecking order we are, the more stress we experience. This is evidently true with human’s or baboons. So, instinct drives us to be better-than or to dominate those around us. Watching baboons, one scientist observes that low ranking individuals spend most of their days picking on and asserting some kind of false dominance over their fellows.

Nature compels us to do this it seems, because stress shortens our lives, so being better-than is a strategy for survival. The documentary cited studies showing brain cell damage, lower immune system response and a long list of conditions brought on by stress.

While my urges to dominate, retaliate, humiliate or subjugate may be natural, they are not good for me. Ironically, they even create more stress. The answer? Breathe, pause, pray, say good morning to someone and smile. Make something pretty, do something useful, help someone, contribute, give.

First, always, I must breathe.

Hold that thought...

James

Faker

For most of my life I considered myself neurotic. Even in the good times, depression and frustration were lurking around the corner to take me down. Towards the end of my drinking though, they were near constant companions. 

Anger, negativity, worry and sadness seemed the norm in the house I grew up in. I was so determined not to be like the rest of my family, so I tried desperately to be happy. Ultimately, I would just tell myself that I was happy. I would tell myself that I refused to be depressed. I would just put on a mask and fake it. With the help of the right combination of drugs and alcohol, I was able to pull this off for a good, long while.

In the last few years of my drinking though, the mask was coming down. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder to get through the workday without people seeing what was really going on in my mind.

I had such an issue with anger and frustration. Most days, the people and situations at my work, were something I barely endured. In my mind, a successful day at work was one that I got through without anyone knowing how angry or miserable I was. The fact that my coworkers often looked at me with a little fear in their eyes seemed okay as long as they didn’t call me on it. I will never forget going off on someone at work and them looking at me and saying, “You just aren’t a very happy person, are you?” That made me very, very angry.

I was in so much fear that each day was going to be the day that I would totally loose all control. My solution was to hold on until I could get home and take a drink. Of course the next morning meant waking up with awful dread and fear of the day to come.

Today, I don’t try to manage my moods. I am not a person that can control my moods. I don’t get to decide how I feel anymore. The idea that I could, was only an illusion for me anyway. I am so thankful for the person in the program that said to me, “It’s okay, not to feel okay.” My feelings and moods don’t scare me like they used to. I don’t have to hide them. Why?

I now have so many tools, so much help and so many people who know exactly who I am and love me anyway. My darker days are now more transient. Without drugs and alcohol, they go as freely as they come  - if I use the tools of prayer, meditation, writing, sharing honestly with others and giving myself to service no matter how I feel.

I was nuts today. I struggled today; but I am going to bed sober with faith, based on experience, that tomorrow will most likely be different. I will go back to work - back to share the day with coworkers that I have a good relationship with. I will meet with my fellows after work and I will share with them honestly that I wasn’t so great yesterday, and I will not be judged. I have nothing to hide today.

I am safe. I am loved. It was a good day, because I did no harm to myself or others, and I go to bed clean and sober.

Hold that thought...

James

Dear Momma

Happy Mother’s Day. You never call. You never write. :-)

You were in such pain the last time I saw you. I often lay in bed and picture what your face must look like now - relaxed, full of joy and at total peace. Your exit from this world was almost unbearable for us. I thought watching you suffer was going to kill us all, but it did not.

When you left, a part of me was destroyed - it came very close to killing me, but that was my own fault. As if the pain of loosing you was not enough, I made your pain about me. I could not stop thinking about all the things that happened to you that last six months. I worried that some of them were made worse by my inexperienced caretaking. The only thing that eased that guilt was remembering Mary Joan saying, “James, any decision that you and your Dad make - out of love - cannot be wrong, cannot be a mistake.” Thank God for her. That was 17 years ago.

Grief is a long journey no matter what, but Momma, I hurt so badly and drinking made it feel better. Drinking made everything feel better. Because of that, I drank more and more over the next ten years. I am grateful you were not there, because you would have worried about me. I would not have wanted that.

I drank almost everyday for 10 years. I dreamt of you almost every night for 10 years - almost always you had cancer. I got lonelier and lonelier. I got angrier and angrier. I never went back to Reno. At first that was a choice and later I was incapable of making a move that big. I lost most of my friends and did not make new ones. Every year that went by, more alcohol was needed to exist.

Ten years after you died I walked into the rooms of recovery and everything changed. In one day, my whole future changed. I found people who had hurt as bad as I had, and they weren’t hurting like that anymore. They said if I wanted a way out, they would take me and lead me, love me, care for me until I was better. They said there was one condition though, that I pass on to someone else the same gift they were giving me.

It has been like magic. After not too long, I realized that I wasn’t dreaming about you every night. When I dream about you now, you are rarely sick. Thanks to this program, I can dream of you and think of you, and not feel like someone is punching a hole through my chest.

Since then, Daddy and Julie have joined you, and we miss you all. Because of these new friends of mine and the Power they hooked me up with, I did not have to drink when they died.

Time has marched on here, I am 50 years old now. I still love you as much as ever. I appreciate so much all the sacrifices you made for us kids. I appreciate the love you gave us. I just wanted to let you know that my life is so good these days. I feel for the first time that I fit in this world and I enjoy most of my days. I am okay.

I hope you have wireless internet up there. Surely they have Apple in Heaven. Oops, maybe not. Damn that Eve. Have you given that bitch your two cents? They say women have periods because of her!

Give Daddy and Julie a big hug for me. I love ya a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck. See ya soon.

Hold that thought...

James