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.