Sour Grapes

I found myself standing in front of a large, oil-on-canvas Norman Rockwell painting last night. I am not an Americana kind of guy. Which is probably just a case of sour grapes. There is nothing wrong with Americana, I just have never felt like an eligible candidate or welcome in that club.

This painting stood out from the others in the exhibit with their flat, graphic-illustration quality. It had dimension, warmth and a magnificent glow. The slightly overplayed light washed over an elderly couple - obviously gazing into a fireplace not included in the composition. The sat with serene faces, snuggling on their sofa. 

The woman’s face is what I cannot forget. The look of serenity - so pure and simple. I could only imagine the thoughts playing through her mind. As I looked at that peaceful face, I could not imagine resentment or regret in her ponderings. I could not detect any signs of self loathing or disappointment. There was not a flicker of condemnation or judgement.

She looked as if her thoughts must be uncomplicated, accepting and calm.

Sorry, Norman Rockwell or not, I don’t consider that Americana. I can imagine that experience on anyone’s face on this planet. We are all eligible. When I think I’m not, I am just deceiving myself. In the last few years, I have had a touch of what I saw on that woman’s face. I like it.

Hold that thought...

James

Sorry Son of a Gun

When I got into recovery, I was not surprised that one of the steps was making amends. I must have learned that from popular culture. Initially, it was the least of my worries.

By the time my sponsor and I began working on the ‘grudge list’ we made in step four, I was beginning to worry about approaching the people that I believed had wronged me and claiming my part in the conflict.  I was, although, anxious to make amends to the people whom I had harmed, but had no anger towards.

My guide was always there to pull me back from the clutches of the future and help me to concentrate on the step I was on. He would assure me that by the time I got to that step, I would be ready. He was right. I was able to make my amends with a number of people that I really love, some of whom I was very angry with when I stopped drinking. Most of the relationships survived but a couple did not.

Something magical happened when I found my part in the scenarios surrounding my resentments. Recognizing something, anything I had done to contribute to the conflict was powerful. I began to forgive. I began to suspect that I may not have been the victim I thought I was.

Something even more amazing happened when I claimed this as honestly as possible to the other person. Ignoring what they might have done to me, I shared my shortcomings and stating a true desire to not repeat the behavior. After quietly letting the other person share their thoughts and perspective, the anger that remained diminished even more.

I did this to unload the weighty, guilty mess I walked into recovery with. But now the process is committed to my memory and I have to use it fairly often to keep my relationships relatively healthy and my conscience as clear as possible.

Today, I have a deep faith in the effectiveness of the process and direct experience with the gifts I receive when I humble myself and do it. But, often I still balk. My ego will say to me, “It’s not that bad, it will all pass if I just act like nothing happen. I should just keep my head down all will be forgotten. It’s not like I’ll drink over this little spat.”

Truthfully, I occasionally take this attitude and ride out small resentments, and yes sometimes it does pass without me having to take that unpalatable action. To what degree are relationships compromised? I won’t ever really know. How much does it affect my overall attitude and days following? It is hard to quantify.

When I let too many of these resentments fester - first my serenity goes and all my relationships begin to suffer. The effect is cumulative. I become restless, irritable and discontent. This sets me up for all kinds of trouble.

Going the route of letting the resentment pass with no action is also a long and painful process even when it works. Dealing with it as suggested is like pulling that adhesive bandage off quickly. It’s over faster, but with a sharp pain to the ego.

Honestly, I have a couple of little ones rolling around in my head right now. Time will tell what I do with them.

Hold that thought...

James

Duck and Cover

Please, dear God no, not another mistake.

No one could make me want to run more than my Dad. He was a good man and always did his best raising us, but he scared the bejesus out of me. His mood was usually serious and he rarely smiled. He also had a way of belittling those around him when they made a mistake. The only thing that would usually rally him from his easy chair was the need to discipline or make a drink. The opportunity to make a smart ass or condescending comment was often the only words he was motivated to utter.

For a child growing up in my house, the result of a mistake was almost always harsh criticism, discipline or ridicule. It really didn’t matter whether it was a mistake made out of a misjudgment or out of happenstance. If something was broken, then you should have been doing...fill in the blank. If we woke Mom or Dad up from a nap, it didn’t matter how or why. I always felt I was walking a tightrope. So when my Dad’s little sissy boy fills up the lawn mower with water instead of gasoline (both in red cans I might add), it was not a pleasant experience. I remember a tool pouch and a coffee mug hitting the wall of the garage. Other kids certainly had it much worse, but that kind of stuff has always rocked this guys world.

So by the time I got kicked out of the house at six years old to go to first grade at a Catholic school, I was already conditioned to cower after making a mistake. My brother’s nature was to rebel and fight back but mine was to duck and cover. I just happened to get “Sister Mary Humilate-the-Little-Boy” for my first grade teacher. That did not go well. It began about 10 years of trying to be invisible in class. It always seemed to me that teachers and kids alike seemed to really get a kick out of teasing and embarrassing me when I would try to answer a question out loud in class.

These are the only two things I can think of that might have led to my extreme aversion to making mistakes. All my life I’ve thought that very disturbing feelings, self-flagellation and retreat were normal reactions to making mistakes. It has only been in the last few years that I have begun to be told otherwise, thanks to a great therapist and a wonderful spiritual advisor. My grandmother new it, I remember her often  yelling at my dad as he went for his belt, “He didn’t go to do it!”

There are so many negative consequences to this misconception of mine that mistakes aren’t a normal part of living and learning. The self-berating and fear make me so judgemental of myself and ultimately others. This fear drives my ego to demand more of myself and others than is fair. It sets unreasonable goals for myself and others to obtain. It makes me feel at times - so worthless and a failure. It is all a lie I tell myself.

Today, I choose to believe my therapist and my spiritual advisor. There is absolutely nothing wrong with making a “mistake”. When a misstep is made I just need to make note of it, without judgement, and take corrective action to do differently in the future. Go figure.

My thinking, though, is so slow to change. I need reminders of this often by people who love me, and I need to remind others and forgive their mistakes. Everyday that I do this, I get a little better.

There is no mistaking the gratitude I feel today toward my teachers.

Hold that thought...

James

Under the Lash

Under the lash of alcoholism and addiction, I have been forced to find a spirituality that I am becoming a little more comfortable with every day.

My sister and I both sought help from a 12 step program, she at a very young age and I in my mid-forties. She was somewhat connected with it for the rest of her life. She remained very troubled through the years. We didn't speak the last three years of my drinking and using. We were reconnected via my ninth step amends. In the process of the amend, she said she no longer attended meetings because she found the "God talk" unbearable. I had been struggling with the same thing from the first day in the program.

Six months later she committed suicide. My sponsored had already shared with me that he believed everyone treats their alcoholism one way or another. We either drink, do drugs, find a spiritual (or meaningful) life or commit suicide. Loosing my little sister came with a flood of thoughts and emotions, but her gift to me may have been a wake-up call. I needed to find out why other people's opinions and beliefs made me so crazy or it just may kill me. I had to uncover my part in the whole mess.

She and I had so many traits in common that seemed to be tied to my animosity toward religious people. Her death was the catalyst for an extensive inventory, fifth, sixth and seventh step for me. The prayers for help that emerged in the seventh step are now a part of my daily eleventh step. The process has been effective enough for me to still be comfortably attending meetings six years later. I am also able to share (outside of meetings) my experience with others who do not share the mainstream religious beliefs of most people in the deep South of the USA.

The way our founders crafted and set down the program has never made me uncomfortable, as they took great pains to design an all-inclusive spiritual path, defined only by the individual. But, many times as people take turns sharing their "experience" in the rooms it can sound like everyone is voting for the denomination or deity of their choice - intended or not. Damaged people like my sister and myself can feel unwelcome anywhere, on the fringes of society and possibly damned to hell for being who we are. So, as compelled as I can sometimes be to share my personal spiritual beliefs in a meeting, I try to bite my tongue and remember that someone's comfort in that room is more important that any ego-driven urge to do it.

If it wasn't for the book our program is based on, old-timers with sufficiently leveled egos and the help of an awesome sponsor, I would have fled by now. Of course it was only the lash of alcoholism that kept me around long enough to do the work required to get some relief from my fears.

Surely. I will meet some of you as I trudge the Road of Happy Destiny!

Hold that thought...
James

Children of Chaos

I wasn’t too long in recovery before someone brought Rule 62 to my attention. If you know me, you know why.

The term is from a book on the traditions of the program I belong to. It tells a story of a grandiose group of recovering alcoholics who dreamed up a grandiose plan. To execute the plan, they decided that 61 rules and regulations would be required. Well their plan did not come off like they hoped, and it sent the group spinning. After the dust settled, the head promoter of the plan proposed Rule 62: “Don’t take yourself too damn seriously.”

The book refers to us alcoholics as “Children of Chaos.” For me this term fits, and it meant that for many years I spent a great deal of time devising plans to manage and fix my life - to keep myself out of trouble. Managing chaos required a great deal of complex, serious and self-centered thought. It also made me crazy.

Sobriety and a new design for living has taken me out of harms way, but my mind still comes up with all these grandiose plans that require complex thought and planning on my part. My brain still thinks it needs to come up with a master plan that will make everything perfect.  Adrenaline pumps as I run countless scenarios, coming up with an endless list of rules for myself and others to follow.

It all sets me up for resentment and disappointment at myself and those around me. Overestimating my power and importance causes me to over-react when things go wrong because my ego is completely entwined in the situation. I take the “failure” personally and become overly angry and frustrated with myself and anyone else involved.

Before I complicate this concept any further, I will tell you that when I first came into the program I could not, as hard as I tried, understand what taking myself too seriously meant. I consider myself intelligent, but I found this impossible to really understand - kind of like Einstein’s theory of relativity. It sort of gave me a headache.

I am a gardener and this analogy helped me to finally picture what taking myself too seriously meant. I asked myself, “What would taking a garden too serious look like?” I thought, it could be ripping all the plants out because a worm ate one of them. It could be seeking retribution because someone stepped on one of my seedlings. It could be flogging myself for using the wrong fertilizer mix. It could be losing hours of sleep trying to come up with a way to manage how many blooms would open the next day. It could be coming up with 61 rules for myself and my friends to follow that would ensure a  picturesque and perfect garden.

Interesting... The other day,  I put a picture of my garden on Facebook so everyone could see how talented I am, and a friend responded with a compliment for God. A comment on his great work and artistry. On another day that really would have ticked me off.

See why I need you guys?

Hold that thought...

James

Today's the Big Day

They say we alcoholics and addicts that need a 12-step program have a daily reprieve from drugs and alcohol. One day of immunity only....ever. When I first got to the program, I thought that was truly the lamest guarantee that I had ever heard of. For Pete's sake, Walmart gives you 30 days.

A lady who had been sober for over 30 years, one day at a time, asked me just how many days of sobriety did I need at one time? What would I do with them?  How many days can I live at one time?

That helped me to begin to understand the idea that I didn't need more than a daily reprieve. So what do I do the next day to get another repeive? All I have to do is participate in my recovery, again for one day. Our literature calls it the maintenance of my spiritual condition. I do it by getting up in the morning and asking my higher power to keep me sober, I almost always either work with another alcoholic or addict or make a meeting; and I thank my Higher Power for keeping me sober at before I fall asleep. If I have had any troubles during the day I sometimes do a 10th Step. That's an average 24 hours of my program for me. Simple and easy most days.

Now is this everything the literature suggests I do? Absolutely not. Do other people do more? yes. Do other people do less? Have I done less? Have I done more? Yes, yes, yes.

Have I been kept sober up until today? Yes. Is my life continuing to expand, blossom and heal? Absofreekinlutely.

I was in so much fear of relapsing in the beginning, even though my actions were evidence that I was working very hard in recovery. I was making it the top priority in my life, but I was still in intense fear. I had been pulled from the fire and the thought of returning was terrifying. Since I was actively participating in the process, I am fairly sure I would have been kept sober without that degree of fear. It was part of my journey, though. I wonder if it was a requirement?  I am mostly free from that fear today.

I am so content with the gift of just one more day of this awesome new life. My days are ridiculously full. I can hardly remember what boredom is like. I have so much living to pack into this one day.

When days are hard and sad, when tragedy has graced my door, I have a full day to delve into the solution. There is so much help available to me each day that I could never tap it all. Writing , praying, meetings and a whole army of people just waiting to hug me, sit with me and share with me how they were kept sane and sober through similar situations. Too much, to many to pack into one day. That is bounty and it can only be had today.


Thank you all so much for today.


Hold that thought...
James

Showing My Assets

I have been told by some that I am not as bad as I make myself out to be. Granted, the people that usually say this to me are not in a 12-step program. Frankly, I do eat it up when they lavish praise on me.

One of the books we discuss a lot in recovery offers a perfect description of me which at first sounds very contradictory. It describes me as an egomaniac with an inferiority complex. I remember vividly the first time I ever read that statement, and I instantly identified.

At last, someone gets me. I take every backdoor approach I can think of to convince myself and everyone around me that I am a previously undiscovered jewel - long-overlooked and placed on this Earth to delight, entertain and enlighten, this day and for all to come. I fantasize that James will at last be widely recognized as the person whom everyone wants as a friend, the person everyone wants to marry and the person that attracts all to his feet to lap up each pearl of wisdom as it falls from his lips.

I do this out of fear - fear that my assets are lacking. Fear that they are not sufficient to provide what I require to survive this life. I fear that if I just list them outright, you will judge and condemn, you will spot the spin; and I will be labeled a phony, a self-deceived idiot and everyone will again laugh at me.

I can talk endlessly at meetings about myself, yet when the literature or my sponsor ask me to list my assets and the things I have done right along side my shortcomings, I start to sweat. That does not give me the opportunity to qualify each with an "if", a "but" or an "unless". It does not give me the opportunity to craft the presentation to appear and sound humble, tentative.

All these thoughts have come to me over the last 24 hours as, in the interest of balance, I considered a blog listing my assets - I have waxed on a bit already about my shortcomings.

Squirm, squirm

Okay, here goes, assets without crafted, qualifying spin.

squirm

I can be trusted.

I am funny.

squirm

I am a good writer.

I gossip little.

I routinely engage in self sacrificing service.

I am generous.

I am a good dancer.

I am a peace loving person.

I am dedicated and loyal.

I am passionate.

I am punctual.

I am artistic.

squirm

I am intelligent. (See I want to say relatively, but I won't.)

Oh, Baby Jesus that hurt. Dame Risa says, "Courage is the opposite of cozy."

I'm sure that if I continue to participate in the process of recovery the list will evolve. Some things may come off the list, others might be added. Based on the state of my spiritual condition, things on the list will come and go. More will be revealed. 

I am sure from time to time I will be able to count on my fellows to give me a good, swift kick in the assets whenever needed.

Okay, I am an above average writer, who desperately needs and editor and proofreader. Now, that felt good!

Hold that thought…

James