Dear, Sugar

Well hello you sexy thing, you. I have been think about you constantly. You pop into my head countless times throughout my day. Life without you is so bland.

You are like a siren calling from the rocks. So beautiful, so sweet, you promise such pleasure. The first touch is exquisite yet, you set off a longing for more that is nearly impossible to ignore. After I have had my fill of you, I feel disgusted and regretful. Your beauty melts away, leaving me drained and disfigured.

You are not to blame. Another may enslave and enjoy you in sane communion. But, I must surrender to the fact that it is me that is a slave to your charms. I am weak in your dazzling presence. When you melt in my mouth but not in my hands, you slay me. When you get your peanut butter in my chocolate I swoon. Sometimes you feel like a nut and sometimes you don’t but you always bring me to my knees.

Powdered, granulated or cubed you are my master, I am your toy. When I am weak I go to the vending machine where love is for sale. I leave feeling so ashamed, hoping no one saw me lurking, lusting and finally snatching you for a cheap thrill, a tawdry high.

Today I will resist your calls. I will settle for a cheap imitation. One that does not cause my blood to course faster through my veins yet does me no harm. Get behind me Sugar. Hello Stevia, wanna play?

Hold that thought,

James

Zen of Technology

Going from okay with everything I have to desperately needing an upgraded iPad in order be peaceful and whole is a very short trip. Granted there is nothing wrong with buying oneself a trinket from time to time assuming you have the money to do it. But for us technoholics without mullah it is a different story. The purchase, I am fairly sure will not result in the Nirvana I seek.

Once the obsession sets in, no facts or rational thinking has any effective power against it. The sane words of friends are met with a multitude of rationalizations, such as "well obsessing over it is making me miserable anyway, so I might as well charge it and experience the regret and pain of debt. At least then I will still be disturbed but at least I will have a new toy to distract me from my self-created misery."

The problem is that the web-browser on my old device is painfully slow and keeps bombing. So, in a last ditch effort to avoid the none-to-smart purchase, I moved my desktop computer into the living room so I can sit my fat ass on the couch and be online. The result seems to be enough to stave off the craving another day. A bonus turned out to be blogging again. It has been so long. A happy ass helps me when I blog.

The one thing that seemed to penetrate my irrationality was readying a Facebook post from a friend that said her psychiatrist told her that "No, new boots were not the answer." That woke me a little from my material craving. I read it on my old, slow iPad.

I so exhaust myself sometime.

Hold that thought,
James

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