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