An unfortunate meeting for a beautiful mess.

Remember the new girl? The beautiful mess girl? She had a really unfortunate incident in a meeting the other night....it almost scared her away.
What follows is an email I sent her about a personal story about my 'unfortunate meeting" in early recovery.

Ok, the story....and Im not making it up...this really happened.

I was somewhere around 60 days sober. I went to the saturday night meeting. It was not one of my favoite meetings....I found it clique-y, and it was too big for my comfort zone. BUT...it was a speaker meeting....so at least I wouldnt have to worry about sharing.
As plans go (not 'my' plans exactly...but whatever kinda plan is going on in the universe)
I was asked to read something.
At the front.
In front of all those clique-y people.
WITH a microphone!
Even though I didnt want to, I braved-up and agreed to read 'yesterday, today and tomorrow'.
I shook the whole time, my voice squeeked....it was a pretty scary experience, but nonetheless, I didnt die.
Then.......(drum roll please)
At the end of the meeting, a well known woman, with plenty of sobriety came up to me, and loud enough for everyone within a 10 foot radius said "Ummm, Julie...you might want to rethink what you wear to meetings."
Huh? What? WTF?
"well....that top you are wearing is pretty low cut, I mean...I can see cleavage for goodness sakes. What exactly are you trying to prove?"
At that moment I wished the earth would open up and swallow me.
I was so embarressed...and I wasnt even sure why.
I thought my top was ok....
I mean...I did think it was ok....
well, it was ok wasnt it?
Oh god...
maybe it wasnt ok...
maybe everyone was looking at me thinking that I was simply using AA as a way to attract men.
Oh my god....they all think Im a slut! Why would I wear this stupid top??!!!
I came home in tears.
My husband forced the story out of me...and then he laughed.
Laughed!
As it turns out, my top (at least acccording to hubby, and later the other 10 people I questioned) was fine. It was appropriate, it was not even slutty in a minor way.
But I took on the words and opinion of one other person, and I gave those words enormous power. I turned her words into the words that everbody must be saying behind my back.

Turns out, us alcoholics are extremely sensitive people.
The lesson for me was learning how to wrap my sensitive-nerve in a bit of insulation.
I had left that 'feeling-nerve' exposed to the world my whole life. If someone said the least little thing that I precieved as critical, then before long, I was ashamed, guilty, angry, less-than, broken, fucked-up, worthless etc....
How you ask? How do we insulate that particlar feeling-nerve?
We trust the people around us, that know us and love us, to tell us the truth.
IF my top had of been inapropriate, Jay would have told me. So would Christie and Lou.
Even if they knew I would be embarressed at that bit of info, they would tell me the truth.

I will always tel you the truth.
Lou will always tell you the truth.
Jen and Kendra will tell you the truth.
Trust the people who love you while you are learning to trust yourself.

The whirlwind that is my life this week

My 18 year old daughter swallowed 60 pills last sunday.
Bought herself a 72 hour psych hold. It ended (or is it 'began'?) with a soft landing in a treatment facility that is world renowned for a variety of things (addictions, eating disorders, post traumatic stress, panic and anxiety).
I hate her boyfriend.
I want to point the finger at him and make this all his fault, although my own program of recovery knows better.
I want her to move home with me after her stay at 'the hospital' because I think I could help direct her life for her. My own program tells me better.
I guess I will settle for praying that she is open minded about the help (the gift really) that has landed in her lap. I will stop thinking about good places to hide the boyfriends body.
And ~sigh~ I will get my butt to a meeting and dump all my thoughts there and be open minded to recieving my own help.

Surrender

It was my dreams that I had clenched in a fist of discontent and wouldn't release. But time and grace had now pried every finger open. There is peace in an open and upraised hand that isn't grasping for anything.


I can remember a time where I had definately surrendered to the problem, yet was unwilling to surrender to the solution. I still wanted to do things my way, and sought out people who would agree with everything I did.
Surrendering to the solution meant going against the grain of who I seemed to be...taking direction that I did not like, doing things that I was convinced would not work.
Funny, when I let go of any notion that I knew what was best for me and let God take the wheel, allowed him to work through the people around me, I finally got a glimpse of what serentity tasted like.

Its a Family Disease

I was introduced to the rooms of AA at the age of 8. My dad used to bring me along to his Sunday night meetings, and I loved it! Oh, how I loved those rooms! Somebody would usually sneak me a styrofoam cup full of sugar cubes, and I could have my snack while I listened to the speaker.
Back then, what I saw was a gathering of people from all walks of life, readily accepting anyone who walked through the doors. Even me, even though I didnt qualify as an alcoholic (yet).
What I heard was fabulous tales of biker fights, bar room brawls, jail stories and looney bins. To me, it was better than any movie I could watch on tv!
I remember thinking that an alcoholic isnt such a bad thing to be.
I somehow missed the part of the story of exactly what needs to happen for a person to qualify as one.
My perception of alcoholics was grand. Both sides of my family were inhabited by alcoholics.....and from my perspective, they were the most funny, most daring, most exciting members of the bunch. The ones who didnt drink were boring, stiff and I sure didnt want to grow up to be anything like them!
My dad joined AA when I was 7, and apparantly my mom did a really good job of sheilding me from the negative consequences of his drinking. I had no idea until I was grown that he had made his own trips to jail, suffered job losses, alienated friends and family and wreaked havok in the lives of those around him.
My beloved grandpa drank every weekend away....he was useless to my grandma, but what I saw was a grown man who was willing to shed the adult persona and allow us to play hairdresser on him. My grandma would get fed up and tell him to go to bed, and we kids would sneak in and crawl into bed with him where he would entertain us with crazy, make believe stories.
My Aunt Shirley was a chronic alcoholic....drank every day, was incapable of holding down a job and changed her men faster than the average person changes the sheets on their bed. What I saw was an amazing creative woman who I believed was an artist. She painted and sang, so I figured she didnt need a job. All the men....I saw an incredibly beautiful woman who lived like a movie star. The reality was nothing like what I saw. She died when I was 15 as a direct result of alcoholism. Her daughter hadnt spoke to her in years because she suffered unspeakable abuse by some of the men Aunt Shirley brought home.
Sometimes I wonder if I was born with a messed up perception of the world. Long before I took my first drink or drug, I was atracted to that kind of life and alcoholism didnt carry any stigma. If anything, I kind of romatisized it. I seemed to simply have a blind spot when it came to looking at any negative consequence of drinking.
I only saw the fun, the romance, the freedom from worry, or boredom.
That is, until it was time for me to qualify as an alcoholic.
Today, Im so very very thankful that my dad got sober in the rooms of AA, and that he exposed me to the solution long before I picked up my first drink.
He celebrates 33 years of sobriety next week.
AA works.

My God Box Story.

One time, I was the invited speaker at a meeting, and when I was finished, a girl came up to me and said "You didnt share your God Box story! Thats my favorite part."
You just never know what part of your story people are going to find useful....I personally thought my God Box story was stupid and just a little embarrassing, but I will share it here just in case somebody else needs a moment of entertainment or identification.

On my 36th birthday, I bought myself a bottle of vodka.
In and of itself, pretty normal present for an alcoholic to buy herself.
It's the web of lies that I created around my birthday present that is so...insane, embarrassing....so very alcoholic.
My husband had recently quit drinking....and was desperately trying to clean up the financial wreckage we had created by drinking and cocaine-ing for the last five years or so.
I knew I couldnt just buy myself a bottle and bring it home. There was absolutely no justification in the world that would fit.
But I wanted one. God, I needed one.
So, along with the bottle, I bought one of those fancy gift boxes that you can put them in. I also bought myself a birthday card and signed it from all my friends at work. I used different colored pens, I used my left hand, I did my best to make it look as if these people really did buy me this bottle and were sending me wonderful birthday wishes.
I dont really remember hubby's reaction.
It didnt matter...I had gotten away with it.
Fast forward about 6 months.
I am now in recovery, doing a meeting a day, and struggling along.
One morning, while searching for something before going to the morning meeting, I spot that gift box.
I was filled with a sense of shame and remorse. It smacked me right in the face that I had lied and decieved to get my hands on booze.....and that was something that no social drinker ever did.
I hurried off to the meeting with the intent of throwing that stupid box away when I got home. I didnt ever want to have to look at that little bit of nasty evidence again.
God works in funny ways.
Somebody at that morning meeting shared a trick she uses to practice "Let Go and Let God". She told us of her "God Box"...a little box she uses to hold the pieces of paper she writes her worries on. Once she puts pen to paper, writes them out and deposits them...then she just has to work on letting it go. Its in the box, where God will take care of it...in His time and in His way.
I knew immediately that I couldnt go home and throw that stupid box out.
Now its my God Box....filled with worries, prayers, hopes, frustrations,and gratitudes.
I only have to look at that box to remember that I am an alcoholic. Sometimes I pull the little slips of paper out and read them, only to realize that my biggest worry of yesterday has long since been taken care of.
I am reinspired by the things I was so grateful for in early sobriety, things that I am prone to take for granted if I am not careful.
And that....is My God Box Story.

God's Will by Jane Rodway

God's Will
by Jane Rodway
Tuesday, June 13, 2006


Where
God's will
flies,
my feet follow
in God's speed,
in God's time.

When God's will
calls me on,
I dance into
His arms,
I tango with
my dreams.

If
God's will
takes,
I let loose
my tight grip,
let loose of
what I thought
I needed.

How
God's will
carries,
is in strong arms,
is in sure reason,
is in my interest,
and I have let go.

In The Moment

Some days, I can see how far Ive come.
Ive come a long way from the girl who lived in yesterdays remorse and shame and avoided people because of tomorrows fear.
And some days are harder than others.
My sponsor has cancer.
Or rather, her cancer is back.
I was a newcomer to AA when she first shared in a meeting about her diagnoses and how AA and the fellowship was amazing in helping her to get through this patch in her life.
It would be another year before she became my sponsor, my friend, my trusted soul sister, my angel with skin on her.
By then, the cancer was in remission.
And now, it has come back.
Im trying so very hard not to live in fear. But Im scared. Part of me is scared for her, I dont want her to have to go through this....again. I dont want her to have to suffer any kind of physical pain, I dont want her to have to suffer any emotional pain or fear.
And the selfish, self-centered part of me is scared for myself.
I cannot picture my life without her in it. Our phone- calls, our sharing of intimate things, our laughter, our support of each other as we try to practice these principles in all our affairs. In that place of fear, my mind tries to fast forward itself...how would I ever find another sponsor like her? Who would I call when life was driving me crazy? Who would call me on my nonsence?
~sigh~
I've learned enough to know that my job today is to be in the moment....that I need to enjoy and contribute to all the blessings God has given me. I've learned enough to know that for every second I spend on the fear, I am wasting precious moments that could be better spent attempting to be genuine and authentic with everyone around me.
For every moment I worry about what I will do when she is no longer here, I have wasted the moments I do have with her.
It is in these moments that I really struggle in praying for God's will.
It is in these moments that I really struggle with the what if's?
And then I remember that it was God's will that placed her on my path to begin with.

Lets see what comes out.

I have no idea what to write about today. My state of mind is a hurried mess, so I hope that as I sit down to type I can slow it down and stop the feelings of being overwhelmed.
Ah-ha! There it is! I had a look at what I just typed......"stop the feelings of...."
Every addict/alcoholics wish.
To stop some kind of feeling we dont like.
Its foreign for me to sit in a feeling, espcially one that doesnt feel good.
Its even more foreign for me to pay attention to it, to what it might be trying to tell me.
For the last week or so, Ive been a hurried mess....rushing from one commitment to another, trying to squeeze it all in, dealing with a sneaking suspicion that Im not doing any of it very well.
While being busy and useful, for an addict like me is generally a good thing, I have started to recognize that I dont have very much balance. I work almost full time, I am in my second year of college, I attend a weekly Big Book study, I have a commitment to sponsees every week, I have a home group, a husband, a 12 year old and three kids who are grown and living on their own. Add to all of that the regualar life stuff like laundry, groceries, house work and I simply dont have enough days/hours to accomplish it all.
I have had feelings of guilt that I am neglecting my daughter and my husband, or only offering them what is left of me at the end of a long day.
Sitting in this feeling of being a hurried mess is actually forcing me to have a look at some things I need to.
I decided to finish my Big Book study at the end of this month and then make that day a commitment to my daughter and husband.
It baffles me that I was willing to commit to meetings/work/school and somehow squeeze family in at the end.
One of the reasons I got clean and sober to begin with was because I had this horrible empty space where family should be. I edged everyone out and replaced them with booze and drugs. If I still edge them out to replace them with meetings and sponsees and school and work, well....thats not really living the principals of the program, is it?
Ahhh...oddly enough, the hurried mess feeling has taken care of itself.
Im kinda giddy thinking about baking cakes and playing games with my kid. Taking her to grandmas for a visit and sipping coffee with my mom. Holding my hubby's hand and watching a movie.
Work wont go away...I have financial commitments and I can live with that.
School...I dont want it to go away. I was a 16 year old drop out and I think its an important growth opportunity for me, as well as showing my kids that education is important, even at the age of 40.
Home group and a few weekly meetings wont go away either. They cant. Ive heard more times than I can count how relapse begins with not going to meetings any more.
Above all, I am just going to keep praying that God show me the way to have balance and structure in my life. Keep me willing to show up and do my best to be of maximum service, without leaving anyone out.

Sponsorship

I love talking about sponsorship. From time to time in a meeting, I will climb on a sort of soap-box and talk about sponsorship, the importance of it, what it looks like and how it had a strong finger on the hand that saved my life.
I have some very clear ideas on what sponsorship is, and what it is not. Most, if not all of these ideas have been passed on to me by AA members I trust and respect.
From time to time I am witness to some young sweet thing that comes to AA looking for help. Within months she has a male sponsor.
Now let me say, I do not live in a community that has one meeting a week, attended by a dozen or so people. There are 20 meetings a week where I live, and a healthy percentage of women to choose as a sponsor. There is also a healthy percentage of women who have long term sobriety, are willing to sponsor, and try to practice the principles in all their affairs. If I lived in a meeting a week community, I might not feel so strongly about same sex sponsorship.
But I live in a diverse, recovery community so why complicate our already messy lives with opposite sex sponsorship?
When I sat and went through the steps with my sponsor, some very intimate things emerged. We talked about sex conduct. I personally cannot imagine doing what I did with a male sponsor. I would have held back. I may have been mostly honest, but not rigorously honest.

Its not that I lack understanding.
I tried to get Lou to be my sponsor. He said no, and when I explained that women didnt like me and I didnt really like them either, I certainly didnt trust them, he gave me direction.
And because I trusted him, I did as was suggested.
Even though I thought I would rather die!
I was instructed to hug every single woman at every single meeting I went to for the next two weeks.
Gulp!
But I trusted him.
So I started my hug campaign. And I am not....wait, scratch that, I wasnt a hugger. Im a hugger now.
And I have a couple of handfuls of really great, intimate female friends now. And a female sponsor. And female sponsees.
That I dont have to censor myself with. That I did a complete inventory with, including sex conduct. That understood the nature of shame in regards to beings an alcoholic mother.
Was I uncomfortable doing all these things with a woman? Hell yeah!Did it go against my nature of distrust for other women? Did it ever!
But since when is recovery about staying in our comfort zone? Because my perception is way off base, what I think is a lovely comfort zone eventually begins to look like a coffin, or a jail cell or a padded room.
Thankyou, but I'll do uncomfortable.

The first time I heard God talking

I had been sober in AA for about 3 months. 3 long miserable months. I was showing up at a meeting a day, showing up 2 minutes before the meeting was due to start. At the end of every meeting I pretty much bolted. I made no eye contact and I avoided the people standing in a little circle smoking, even though I am a smoker.
I would rush down the street, head full of fear and anger and go home. I would sit on my couch for the rest of the day, or curl up in bed and try to sleep the afternoon away. I was not really surprised that this AA thing wasnt working for me....I mean, its a great place for people who are drunks but I wasnt sure I was one of those. And even if I was, I was too smart for any 12 step mumbo-jumbo.
Slowly, thoughts of suicide began to creep in, and I started to believe that while it might not be a great solution, maybe it was the only one available to me. I put a lot of thought into how to accomplish my own death and not have it look like I did it myself. Guns were out, too messy. Overdose was out, good gawd I couldnt hve anyone thinking I was an addict! Hanging, nope..no mistaken accident there. Walking in front of a bus became my constant thought companion. I watched buses and the streets they went on. I figured I would have to get myself to the expressway so I could wander in front of a fast moving one, to make sure the job got done and I wasnt left as some vegetable.
Monday morning.
I awaken with the same dull ache, the soul pain I always awake with.
Maybe today will be the day.
But, for some reason I decide to go to the morning meeting like I had been doing for the past few months.
I sit through the meeting, hearing nothing but my own head.
I scoot out of the meeting when its over, the same as I do every other day.
And on my way..where? Home? To find a bus? I hear it...well, hear is the wrong word...I feel it. "Julie, do something different."
Huh?
Different? Do what exactly?
Somehow my feet got me turned around and I walked back to the church, looked at the circle of smokers and said: "Doesnt anybody go for coffee around here?"
And that moment...everything changed.
I met a great spiritual teacher.
He took me for coffee...we drove around the outskirts of town for probably 2 hours. I dont remember a word of what he said....except that he said "You have value and you have worth." and ...well, it was the first time I heard hope.
Hope was delivered to me through a 6 foot bald man in his fifties.
God used him to deliver hope to me.
I didnt recognize for many months to come that when I felt "Julie, do something different" that was God talking to me.
I didnt recognize that God had a plan for Lou that day, and all Lou had to do was show up and try to do Gods will.
In my gratitude, to God for His grace, to Lou for showing up and being willing, and to AA for the principles that it teaches...all I do now is show up. Show up, stay out of my own way and try my best to do Gods will.
If I do that, then I get to be the carrier of hope to somebody else, and that is a feeling that no drink, no drug could ever touch.

What If?

what if
I am exactly where I'm supposed to be today.

what if I'm not supposed to be one single solitary molecule better, nor one bit faster, not one jot farther along.

what if I'm not supposed to be
any smarter, or more spiritually evolved,
better with money,
braver,
bigger or smaller.

what if
(just for today)
I let sobriety be the win,
let that be enough, and
take the day off from self judgment,
from comparing myself to others
and to the mythical stealth "ideal me" I've somehow been sold.

what if just for today I banish the "should's" and "supposed to's."

if there is a God
(and while sometimes there's doubt and some days the evidence seems to go either way what if today I sit with "there is")
then what if
my foibles and mishaps and shortcomings
are part of what I need to be what I'm supposed to be
eventually.

if this isn't bogus,
or utter bullshit,
then I can relax,
and have faith that
(as the old expression goes)
God don't make junk

and there is a Plan

and I really am
exactly where I'm supposed to be
today.

*This thought/poem/prayer was borrowed from one of my favorite blogs Mr. Sponsorpants.

Good Meeting vs. Bad Meeting

I really feel blessed that I live in a city that has so many meetings to choose from. Most days I can choose from three different meetings to attend, some days four.
The meetings that I ~love~ change from time to time, depending on where I am in my recovery. If I am taking an emotional nose-dive, I love the meetings where I find the oldtimers, many who seem to have almost perfected "Keep It Simple".
On days when I feel in alignment with Gods will for me, I love the meetings attended by newcomers, or the institutional meetings. I want so deeply to be able to offer some little ray of hope in the same way others gave that to me.
Today is Friday....a four-meetings-to-choose-from day.
Here comes the *but*.....the thing I have been struggling with for some time now.....
One of those meetings is a *Womens Meeting*. In and of itself, that doesnt bother me. I understand that for various reasons, some people may feel safer or more free to share when the oposite sex is removed.
I have gone to this meeting on various occassions. Sometimes my intentions were good, sometimes they were filled with ego.
My personal experience with this particular meeting is that it is filled with "whiners". You know the joke that men make about womens meetings about us just getting together so we can bash men? That truely goes on there! Lots of talk about "inner child" and "setting boundaries". Very little talk about the selfish and self-centerdness on our part as alcoholics.
So....sometimes I go. I go so I can talk about the things I read in the Big Book (pretty sure Ive never read ANYTHING about the inner-child in there). I go so I can talk about my disease and how it affects my thinking. Sometimes I go because (heres the ego part) I feel better than these women and I want to teach them something. My distorted thinking will rationalize that with "Its for the good of AA! What about these new women who wander into the room?! I dont want them to think AA is some kind of therapy circle where we hold hands and talk about the people who have harmed/beat/raped/abused/took advantage of us!"
~sigh~
For today, I have to put my recovery first. And for me that means going to a meeting where experience has shown me I can get filled up instead of depleated. Where I can put my ego and my agenda aside and take in some of God's will for me.
Funny, how when I put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard in this case) things become clearer.
Happy Friday!

Grace

Have you ever asked somebody how they were doing and watched them respond with the pasted on smile and the words "Im fine...great...everything is great"
And you want to look them in the eyes and tell them to stop lying.

I have a friend like that. Not the pasted on smile part....the part where he will look me in the eyes and tell me to stop lying.
We never get together for coffee or talk on the phone. We just see each other at home group every week.
He's one of my best friends. One of my greatest teachers.
I want what he has.

So today, when I asked someone how they were doing, and I got the pasted on smile....I told them to stop lying.
Sometimes my recovery is about doing the things that others did with me.
Giving it away.
Sharing my truth.
God's grace has touched me too many times to count.
God help me be part of the grace that touches other people.

A Beautiful Mess

I went to my husbands home group on Monday night.
I noticed her sitting there by herself.
At first I was mad....I mean, where are the women of this group??!! Why are they letting this newcomer sit all by herself??!!
Then I figured that maybe the reason I noticed her was because God had a plan.
So I went and introduced myself and asked if I could sit with her.
She just moved here (geographical cure that failed, I suspect) and she has nobody. Nobody but us bunch of drunks (IF we take the time to notice her sitting there ladies!!)
She was too scared to go up and get a chip.....so I led her up after the meeting and placed one in her hand. We agreed to meet again the next day for another AA meeting.
She carried that chip around with her all day.
She is as quiet as a mouse, and she looks scared silly.
I desperately wanted to fill all the dead air with words....something, anything to give her some hope.
I wanted to ask her questions about herself....but I didnt want to pry and make her uncomfortable.
I wanted to share ALL of my experiences, but I didnt want to talk about myself like some ego-maniac.
I settled for patting her arm once in awhile and hugging her afterwards and telling her that it's going to get better.....please keep coming.
We are going to another meeting tonight. I called some of my pajama gals (I'll explain that in another post) and they are going too.....calling in the troops so to speak.
I just phoned her to confirm that I will pick her up.
I asked how she was doing.
"Ummmmmmm....what answer do you want?" she asked me.
I told her I wanted an honest one.
"Im a beautiful mess" she replied.
I loved that answer.
She IS a beautiful mess.
I pray she keeps coming....I pray she allows the miracle of AA to happen in her life.
Because then she will live in her beautiful part....without the mess.

seven days away from AA makes one weak

That is a slogan that is used at my dads home group. Until recently, I just took that particular bit of wisdom at face value. In my two and a half years of recovery I had always attended at least three meetings a week....
that was my standard dose of neccesary medicine. And then holiday time came.
Sixteen days of time I had been looking forward to, the way that a kid looks forward to Christmas.
I spend my holdays at the lake, less than an hour from home, certainly close enough to come back for meetings. There are meetings within ten or fifteen minutes from the lake.
But I flew by the seat of my pants, and planned on deciding day by day wether or not I would "need" a meeting.
Part of me was a little excited about having sixteen whole days with no plans, nothing on the agenda, nothing I "had" to do.
Here's what happened:
For the first few days I felt great. I was joyful and useful and looked for ways that I could bring the best of myself to each sitution.
The next few days were spent absentmindedly focussing on how my friends new boyfriend was ticking me off. Let me mention here that my friend and her boyfriend are both in recovery, as well as my husband. I had all these people surrounding me that understand acutely how the mind of an alcoholic works. That being said, I can often judge harshly people who are in recovery. I tend to hold them to a different standard than I hold the rest of the world. My inner attitude says that people in recovery should know better than to behave like asses.
By day six or seven....I was a seething, resentful mess.
I took that opportunity to question my spouse about his recovery and point out that he hadnt been to a meeting or talked to his sponsor in a week!
He did sulk off to call his sponsor.....likely to ask him if he had any ideas of a good place to hide my body.
I too called my sponsor....to bitch and moan about my friends boyfriend and his completly selfish, unacceptable behavior.
She gently pointed out that it was none of my business.
I spent the next few days trying to justify why it was so my business.
I spent those days also being sucky that my holidays were not bringing me the joyful feeling that I thought they would. I fought with hubby about money. I was overly sensitive to perceived critisism. I martyred.
By day 9 I recognized that I simply cannot fly by the seat of my pants and depend on my alcoholic mind to transport me to a meeting. I need sober feet to carry me there, regardless of what my mind tells me. I need to incorporate meetings into my travel plans.....
Seven days away from AA makes one weak.

The Family Afterwards

I truely had no idea when I began this journey of recovery, how my family life could and would change. I mean....I knew my relationship with my kids, my spouse and my parents would get better but I just didnt consider any other family members.
I have never been particularily close with my brother. We just never seemed to "click". I was often envious of the attention he recieved from my parents and in my alcoholic perception, they loved/valued/protected/adored him more.
As a result, I never took the time to cultivate any kind of relationship with him. We grew up, got married and went our separate ways. I have never been involved with his family, except to have an occassional fight with his wife. We see each other on holidays only, even though we live about ten minutes away from each other.
Fathers Day weekend someting seemed different.
He called me Jules.....
Our conversation was open and free and devoid of any of those old feelings of envy and jealousy. I actually enjoyed my time with him instead of being focussed on how much I dislike his wife.
And he called me Jules....
The realization that the family afterwards pertains to all my relationships was another one of those light bulb moments.
Seeking to understand rather than be understood crept up on me somewhere, somehow. I dont know when it happened, but I am sure that it is just another of the many gifts of recovery.

My faith renewed.

Ive had a tough week. I havent really enjoyed many of the meetings Ive been to....I dont know if its where my focus was at, or if my perception is way off but it seemed the meetings this week were filled with winers. If I had to hear "Its just soooooo hard" one more time, I was going to pull my hair out. I would leave the meeting kinda crabby, wondering what happened to "experience, strength and hope"????????
And then, as much as it shames me to admit, I prayed about it. (Why is it that the solution of prayer always comes to me LAST instead of FIRST where it should be?)
So, I go to a treatment facility meeting tonight. Brand new fresh faces. And I heard exactly what I needed to hear, and saw exactly what I needed to see......from a 19 year old guy who's been sober 20 days. He was the picture of surrender. He wore hope like a sign on his forehead. His words came right from his soul.....
He made me cry.
He renewed my faith in the people in recovery. He reminded me that this program is for people who WANT it, not people who need it.
And I met for coffee with a lovely lady who asked me on Friday to be her temporary sponsor. She in the treatment facility and will be going home, across the country in 2 weeks.
Talking with her felt like talking with God. She did far more for me than I think I did for her.
So...Ive made a new friend, had my faith in recovery renewed and learned that I better make prayer the first solution instead of the last.
All in all.....a perfectly blessed day!

Just BEing

SLIPS.
I hate that word.
I knew someone once who thought they'd go out for one last hurraah before entering a treatment facility....and they "slipped" right into a grave. Left 4 grieving kids behind.
I woke up today thinking about relapses and it took me some time to figure out why that particular thing was on my mind.
A sponsee missed home group last night.
She hasnt called me this week.
Her meetings have been leveling off for a few months now.
She admitted she wants to isolate.
~sigh~
I feel powerless.
I know I cant keep anyone sober. (No human power could relieve our suffering)
Ive prayed for her....but Im pretty sure God wants her to do the footwork...and her head doesnt seem to be in the game and her sober-feet seem to be on vacation.
Sometimes I'd rather be a human DOing instead of a human BEing. I want to do something. I want to drag her into surrender. I want to shake her or yell at her.
I dont want to alienate her. I dont want her to be mad at me. I dont want to shame or ridicule her back into the game.
I guess I'll pray.
It just became clear to me how often praying is my last resort.
I will try to figure it all out in my head (oh ya...theres a good place to be)before I consider praying and asking for guidance and direction.
Alright...so now Im off to pray.