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

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