Reborn

It’s Good Friday, and I have to say it is truly a Good Friday. I am grateful today to be alive, sober, loved by family and friends, and blessed by my Higher Power.

I was talking with my sister Nancy last night about Easter plans. I don’t go to church a lot, but from time to time I like to go with her. We’ll go together on Easter morning to celebrate the resurrection. I can really relate to the resurrection. So many people in the fellowship have been resurrected, given a new life. We bring people back from the dead. I’ve seen miracles first hand.

Nancy and I were talking about the symbolism of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. It is such a humble beast, a beast of burden and poverty. I believe that’s how Christ carried his message: he carried it with humility to the “everyman”. I relate to that too. I have come to know and love people from all walks of life because our fellowship is loving and tolerant of “everyman”.

At the foundation of our program is the ability to choose and define our own Higher Power and our own concept of spirituality. It doesn't matter what religion we are (or aren't). It's a journey. We come together to grow along spiritual lines. Many of us have seen a lot of hell and we are looking for a little of heaven.

I am reading a book by Pema Chodron in which there is a story about understanding the nature of Heaven and Hell. A big burly Samurai comes to a wise man and asks to be told about heaven and hell. The wise man says “Why should I tell a scruffy, disgusting, miserable slob like you?” The samurai starts to get purple in the face, his hair starts to stand up, but the wise man won’t stop. He says, “A worm like you? Why should I tell you anything?” Consumed by rage, the samurai draws his sword, and he is just about to cut off the head of the wise man, when the teacher says “that’s Hell.” The samurai, who is in fact a quite sensitive person, instantly gets it; he has just created his own hell. He was deep in hell. It was black and hot, filled with hatred, anger, self protection, and so much resentment that he was going to kill this man. Tears filled his eyes and he lovingly placed his palms together. The wise man said, "That is Heaven."

I think this mirrors what we learn as we work our twelve steps: the black hole of being stuck in our anger and resentments, and the bliss of submission to acceptance of our shortcomings.

Regardless of your religion I wish you a Happy Easter Sunday, and a celebration of the miracle of Resurrection.

We were Reborn

page 63 Big Book Alcoholics Anonymous

Balance

Seems like everyone wants a piece of me lately. I am working hard to maintain the balance between what I can do for others and what I need to do for myself.

Get Outta My Head

I am the kind of person who needs a lot of “psychological space” around me in order to stay balanced. I don’t do well when anything or anybody crashes into my emotional or mental space. I operate best coming from a place of stillness. I love quiet places. I love loud music, but a loud TV puts me right over the edge. I can’t tolerate loud voices or places ..... but I’m working on it. Unfortunately, my world is not still.

I’m guessing many of us are this way, (although I do need a lot of space). We go through life consciously, or unconsciously trying to keep a bubble of calm around us .Then wham, life happens, and something or someone gets into your “space” and in come all of the feelings and all of the circumstances that upset your calm. I think this is why we turn to addictions. Not just addicts and alcoholics…...everybody. Everyone seems to have something they reach for when their calm is disturbed.

I like my bubble of stillness. I like to say “In stillness God speaks to Me.” This is true. But if I’m to be courageous on my spiritual journey, it is time to learn to listen to God while I am in the thick of the chaos in my head, not just in silence. I know for me, as a person in recovery, when I get those uncomfortable feelings like resentment, disappointment, embarrassment, fear, or shame, my head starts up this non stop running dialogue that is so harsh and so unrelenting that I lose all clarity. I get very raw, very wide open, and yet at the same time very shut down. It’s a confusing out of control mind-fuck. This dialogue can run for hours or days. It runs in my sleep. Half the time I don’t even know it’s there, until someone says “Relax, you’re thinking too much.” Oh. Ok.

I am starting to understand (just a little) that when I am franticly thinking, I’m not feeling. And until I can turn and face all of my feelings, the good, the bad, the ugly, in their full glory I cannot learn from them and move on.

Generally speaking, we regard discomfort in any form as bad news. But for practitioners or spiritual warriors – people who have a certain hunger to know what is true – feelings like disappointment, irritation, resentment, anger, jealousy and fear, instead of being bad news, are actually very clear moments that teach us where it is we are holding back. They teach us to lean in when we feel we would rather collapse and back away. They’re like messengers that show us, with terrifying clarity, exactly where we’re stuck. This very moment is the perfect teacher.
Pema Chodron

Carnival

The Monkey May Be Off My Back .........

But The Circus Never Leaves Town

So some us went to a carnival yesterday!

Check out posts on Recovery and Relationships from some bloggers you know, and some you might like to meet. Just click above on "Carnival"

Uncle Randy

The day my daughter Jolie was born one of the happiest people at the hospital was her Uncle Randy. He took that baby girl in his arms and promised to love her forever and ever. His partner Don promised to teach her to fold napkins a dozen ways for the perfect dinner party.

Uncle Randy kept his promise. He was devoted to Jolie and spoiled her in ways that her father and I couldn’t. He gave her sweet and thoughtful gifts, the kind of gifts that encouraged her to be the best she could be, like swimming lessons, guitar lessons, books, and music. Jolie adored her Uncle; it was fun to watch the two of them together. Randy would have made a great father.

Randy and Don were together a little over 15 years. I can’t say exactly what ended their relationship, but their Newport Beach gay lifestyle involved a lot of alcohol so it was probably the same story we all hear in the “rooms”. Don died shortly after the break up; he struck his head on a toilet seat and bled to death presumably while in a black out.

Randy always lived alone after that. He had a few friends, but no one that he ever got close to. Jolie was his weekend companion, confidant and shining star. She would spend the night; they would get movies and a pizza. Sometimes they went to LA to the theatre. They just hung out, the way you do with people you love. That was the weekends. During the week Randy was lonely, remorseful, bitter and isolated, and so he drank.

Jolie knew he had a problem. I knew he had a problem. I did nothing. He was so intensely private. I had ten years of sobriety at the time but I didn’t know how to reach across that gulf.

In July of 2003 Randy reached a new low. He led Jolie to believe he may traveling for awhile. He put his truck in his garage, and his gun in his mouth.

Two months passed by before Jolie and her father found Randy’s body. Two months of Jolie calling, and emailing, and driving by his house. It ended when she finally went into his backyard and saw through the window that the house was swarming with flies, and she knew she had to call me, and the police. I say “it ended” but of course it will never end for Jolie. The trauma of that day…. sights, smell, shock and loss changed her forever. Randy’ s alcoholism and despair claimed two victims that day.

The picture above is Jolie and Uncle Randy at her high school graduation in 2001. He is just as proud as he was on the day she was born. She has decorated her shoes to look like ruby red slippers. She believes at this point in her life that she can click her heels three times and go anywhere.

After Randy’s suicide Jolie suffered in a way that was almost unbearable for me to watch. I struggled to find a balance between helping her, and letting go enough to let her grieve in her own way. She dealt with her pain exactly the way I did when I was young. She drank, she got stoned, she dropped out of college, she got into self loathing and she got angry. I watched her walk the dark hallways of her own heart and mind and slowly self destruct. Finally in April last year she said “enough”.

Jolie took a 30 day sobriety chip at one of my meetings, and then left So California in May 2006. So I’m coming up on the one year anniversary of her decision to leave home. She moved north to Washington state and lives with her dad now. I think her prayers are for peace and understanding, for herself and others. She wants to fall in love. She wants to trust. She wants to believe in herself and the possibilities of the ruby red slippers. She still doesn’t drink, and she’s ready to go back to school. I miss her every day, but understand her choice and I think it’s the right one for her. I think California smells like death to her, and the air in Washington is so sweet.

A Dog With A Buzz

Sometimes you have to sneak up on your pets to see where they get their energy

Compassion

There is someone who is bothering me. She’s driving me crazy. I’ve run out of patience.

Three sentences above: 2 “me’s” and 1 “I”. That means the problem and solution probably are on me.

I know that I cannot change her, but I also know that I can change my attitude about her. The Big Book tells me:

We realized that the people who wronged us were perhaps spiritually sick. Though we did not like their symptoms and the way these disturbed us, they, like ourselves, were sick too. We asked God to help us show them the same tolerance, pity, and patience that we would cheerfully grant a sick friend. When a person offended we said to ourselves, "This is a sick man. How can I be helpful to him? God save me from being angry. Thy will be done."

Now this is a hard prescription to follow. I know it’s going to require a lot of compassion. I’m really interested in Eastern spirituality, so I “googled” compassion and found Kwan Yin.

Long ago, according to legend, Kwan Yin earned the right to enter Nirvana after her death. But when she stood before the gates of paradise, she heard the anguished voices of those left on earth and, turning away from bliss, vowed to remain in the world, gently leading others until all living things reached enlightenment. Kwan Yin, a bodhisattva, became the Goddess Of Infinite Compassion or 'she who hears the cries of the world.'

I want to be like Kwan Yin. I want to have compassion for this self centered, whiney, little twit (who won’t take direction). But today I’m feeling very human.

I talked with my sponsor last night. He just smiled and suggested that maybe there is a reason she is in my life; perhaps there is a lesson I am supposed to learn. I asked him what the lesson could possibly be, and he just smiled again. God, I hate that.

Into Action

I’ve been asked by a couple of friends to help them fight their way past a phase of apathy in their recovery programs recently. You know, that “stuck” feeling, where you’re just not willing to do much, and everyone is saying “You gotta have willingness!”

Scout wrote “Where does one get some if one doesn't have any? I hear about people praying for the willingness to be willing. To be honest, that seems so contrived and ridiculous to me that I am not willing to try it. So what then? I pray for the willingness to have the willingness to pray for willingness? I mean, really, where does all of that stuff stop?”

I’ll start my post with the old joke about apathy:
Sponsee: What’s worse for your program, Ignorance or Apathy?
Sponsor: I don’t know and I don’t care.

The point is we’ve all been apathetic; and there’s a lot we don’t know. The best we can do is share our experience, strength and hope; and of course, look in the Big Book.

Here is what I believe. Willingness is not something we wake up with, anymore than we suddenly wake up sober and in recovery one day. This is an action program. Therein is the irony. You need to take action to be willing, and you need to be willing to take action. So what do we do? Yes, dear Scout, I’m afraid we do pray that ridiculous sounding request. We pray for the willingness to be willing. But let’s break it down. What are we really praying for?

Willingness comes when something or someone enters our consciousness, or our awareness, that makes us want to take action. For instance, you see a hungry or abused child and you want to get into action to help. A smoker watches a loved one dying of emphezema and becomes willing to give up cigarettes. We see or hear a story that touches us in a way that we are willing to change our perception or our actions. So….what we are praying for is that our Higher Power will put something or someone into our path (our awareness) that will spur us into action.

Our part in this prayer is the “footwork”. We must place ourselves out on the firing line of life; going to meetings, out in the community, working with others. Just suit up and show up, even if you are feeling apathetic and feel you have nothing to say or offer. On pg 102 of the Big Book it says :

Your job now is to be at the place where you may be of maximum helpfulness to others, so never hesitate to go anywhere if you can be helpful. You should not hesitate to visit the most sordid spot on earth on such an errand. Keep on the firing line of life with these motives and God will keep you unharmed.

Out there on the “firing line of life”. That is where we get spurred into action for our own recovery. We go to a recovery home or detox to be of service and we get as much or more than we give. We get willingness.

I guarantee you will not feel apathy when you are walking among those who still suffer from this disease. Christ walked among down trodden people to carry a message of hope. When Siddhartha left his palace and saw the suffering of his subjects he realized enlightenment and became Buddha. This is a spiritual program. When we bring the Sunlight of the Spirit into our consciousness, whatever our beliefs may be, willingness follows.

Staying Out of My Own Way

Friday night I took my chip at my home group. It’s a C/A meeting with a large turnout every Friday. I was excited all week about my sobriety birthday and really looking forward to my home group meeting. But when I arrived Friday night it felt like I was in a mental blank spot. I looked at that large crowd and knew I had to go up front and say something that made sense. I realized I’d left my brain at home. Amazing how powerful fear can be.
I usually don’t have a problem sharing in a meeting. I‘ve shared from the podium and done speaker meetings. But for some reason Friday night was different. My mental slate was wiped clean; all the usual yada-yada was gone. I started to panic a little as they did the readings and it got closer to the time for chips. I signaled for my sponsor to meet me out in the hall. I told him how much fear I was feeling and he asked why. I told him because my mind was blank and I didn’t know what I was going to say up there. He pointed out that there were at least a dozen newcomer women that had identified. He said maybe my mind was cleared out so that God could speak through me... Duh. It went great.

The Wind

Years ago, a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast.He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals. Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. "Are you a good farm hand?" the farmer asked him. "Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the little man. Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore.Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!" The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows." Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew. author unknown

Today am I prepared, spiritually, mentally, and physically, so that I have nothing to fear when the wind blows?

Milestone

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity.... It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.
Melodie Beattie

Today I am grateful for the blessings and grace of my Higher Power, the love and support of my friends and family, the guidance of my amazing sponsor, the rooms, and all of you who trudge the path with me. Thank You and Bless You.

So.....I'm 14 now.......Let's Rock 'n Roll !!!

Hope & Freedom

I’m going to the Alamo in San Antonio Texas for the NA World Convention August 30 to Sept 2. ! I am so excited at the idea of meeting some of you there…can we possibly make it happen? Scout and Twodogs are going to be there too….. The theme this year is “Our Message: Hope Our Promise: Freedom.

I know, I know, some of you alkies are saying, “NA? No way!”…but hey…recovery is recovery. We can hook up, do some meetings, stroll the beautiful San Antonio Riverwalk, shoot it out at the Alamo, and share some awesome fellowship. So what say? http://www.na.org/WCNA32/index.htm

Humility

You know those little magnetic words that stick on a refrigerator so you can compose eclectic poetry? We had a set of those on a fridge on the back patio. When we got rid of the fridge, the magnetic words got thrown into a box, but left out back. When you have three dogs mysterious things happen to boxes left out back. To make a long story short, no matter how many times I clean them up, about once a week I will walk out back and a new word will be waiting for me on the patio. Today’s word was FLOOD. I had to smile.

I have just come through a week that was a flood of feelings. A real Tsunami. It started with a dull melancholy, turned into the blues, graduated to deep sadness and culminated in two days of non stop tears . If you had asked me why, I didn’t know. I kept in close touch with my sponsor. He told me I didn’t need to know why, that maybe I should just trust God and feel the feelings.

My husband was out of town, I was alone in the house for a few days, so that’s pretty much what I did. I laid on the couch and felt the feelings. I thought about my yesterdays, my todays and my tomorrows. On one of those days I got an email from Scott W that said “The painful times, when I must concentrate the most on the process of turning it over to God and of letting it go, have been when I have had the experience of such closeness to my Higher Power that it seems that something tissue thin is keeping me from reaching out and actually touching it.” That is exactly how it was for me. I felt God’s presence absolutely all around me, tissue thin, as though I could close my eyes and plunge into His comfort. But still it hurt.

Yesterday I woke up and it was gone. I’m at peace. I met with my sponsor last night. I told him my depression had lifted. He asked me why I was calling it “depression”. I have such a need to label everything. All I know is that something happened, it hurt, and now it is over. He asked me to consider if maybe at this stage of my recovery, on my spiritual path, I had just worked a profoundly deep sixth and seventh step. He is so wise. I re-read the seventh step in my 12 and 12 this morning. Everything that I reflected on, every regret, every sorrow, every hope and dream had given me a new humility and a new willingness to have God remove my shortcomings. Am I ready to relinquish my future to God’s plan instead of my material wishes? Am I ready to stop asserting my wishes and demands on my loved ones lives? Can I truly Let Go and Let God? Am I ready to truly accept my past as a gift that can be used in my helpfulness to others? I’m ready. What I thought was pain was catharsis. Amazing stuff, and I didn’t even see it coming.

Home

When I was a child our house backed up to an elementary school playground. At the end of the day they would remove the tether balls from their poles, leaving empty chains hanging free. On windy nights the chains on all of the poles would swing and slap the poles, sending a ringing chorus into the night. I fell asleep to that sound for years.

Today I have wind chimes hanging outside my bedroom window. Last night the wind blew. I laid in bed, closed my eyes and listened. It felt like home.

I cannot go back to that home, and would not if I could. I have a good life today, rich with blessings. But I can reflect back on what felt good about it and hold it close. My mom is aging, but there is still so much to share. We can start by listening to the wind chimes. Please come home Mom.

The Sad Facts

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON DRUGS

Our Stories

I love good stories. I especially like true stories about the human spirit overcoming obstacles; or stories about people who endure great suffering and emerge profoundly changed. Storytelling isn’t as commonplace as it used to be. There was a time when family memoirs were passed through the generations via story telling; and the chronicles of each community and culture were kept sacred by its stories. It seems like now that has been replaced by media and our personal or communal stories often get lost or ignored.

We all have a story. It has a beginning and a middle and, of course, will have an end. Sometimes discovering that story, that inner story, is a process that takes some time and some courage. One of the things I love about 12 step programs is that it is one of the few communities where we still tell our stories.

We tell them when we celebrate a sobriety birthday, or speak, or qualify at a meeting. We share them with our sponsees. Every time I tell my story I unearth more truth about myself. I usually start out nervous and tentative, afraid of rejection or judgment. Then someone will give me a smile or nod of understanding, as though to say “I hear you, I understand you…” and with that nod I get the courage to go deeper, share more of myself, and reveal more of God’s miracles in my life today.

I think God wants us to share our stories. We have a responsibility to chronicle the miracle. He also wants us to be courageous. I need to look deep, to find my innermost sorrows and fears, the weakness and inadequacies that are a part of my story. When I discover my truth and understand how it shaped my story it becomes my Experience, Strength and Hope. Just for Today I have Nothing to Fear.

Through story we draw connections between the happenings of life and the lessons of God. We catch God suddenly in the thick of our days. Sue Monk Kidd Firstlight

Milestones

T.K. at http://www.sobertoday.org/ celebrated 30 days on Saturday. Awesome.....

Talking Urinals

New Mexico is hoping to keep drunks off the road by lecturing them at the last place they usually stop before getting behind the wheel: the urinal.
The state recently paid $21 each for about 500 talking urinal deodorizer cakes and has put them in men's rooms in bars and restaurants across the state.

When a man steps up, the motion-sensitive plastic device says, in a woman's voice that is flirty, then stern: "Hey, big guy. Having a few drinks? Think you had one too many? Then it's time to call a cab or call a sober friend for a ride home."
The recorded message ends: "Remember, your future is in your hand."

Odd...I figured at this moment their dick would be in their hand.

Turning Points

I feel like I’m at a turning point, and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it is a beginning or and ending. Maybe it is just a surrender, but I don’t know what I’m surrendering. I feel different inside. My mind has become very quiet.

I’ve always had a very noisy mind. I think too much, plan, analyze, wonder, second guess….. It seems to have just calmed. I feel like I want to knock on my temple and say Helloooo? Anybody in there? Where has the committee gone?

I’ve been doing 11th step work, learning about meditation and God consciousness. The actual practice of meditation didn’t come easy to me at first. I struggled to silence my mind and stay focused; often I fell asleep. But it’s getting better, easier……progress, not perfection. My amazing moments in meditation come when I finally get quiet enough to let go into God. At that moment it is just me and divine peace.

I don’t understand my turning point, but I know I’m changing, and I like it. I think it’s ironic that my 11th step work has brought about Surrender and new Clarity to my faith….as though the 11th and 12th steps eventually lead you right back to an even more powerful 1st, 2nd and 3rd, like a big circle. Something new for me to ponder.

We stood at the turning point. We asked His protection and care with complete abandon. BB pg 59

Love

Keep Your Heart Open Today.......

Remember Love Comes From Unexpected Places

Sober Softball

This weekend was the 13th Annual Code Blue Sober Softball Tournament. Code Blue is the team Patrick plays on, and he was the director of the tournament again this year. We had 15 teams of sober men and women from up and down the California coast show up for a weekend of softball and fellowship. It was awesome as usual, and I saw a lot of friends, old and new.

Sober softball has been a huge part of our recovery journey. The fellowship that has grown out of sober league and tournament play is great. We spend the day on the fields, kids, dogs, spirited competition and renewing friendships with friends we often only see at tournaments. There is always a Saturday night meeting, with heartfelt sharing. Some of the guys claim that without sober softball they might not have hung around in the beginning. I don’t know. It takes what it takes. I do know that you have to be sober to play, and these young guys show up wanting to play. They latch on and hang out and the miracle starts to happen, just like it does in any other venue.

I see the program in action on the fields. I watch the higher division players mentoring the newcomers. I see guys finding sponsors. I see altercations break out on the field that result in resentments…that get let go. I watch families spending time together. One of the best things I see is sober men going out on those fields and playing like testosterone crazed animals, then humbly bowing their heads and praying together after every game. What could be better than that?

The Universe Listens

Monday on my lunch hour I was reading sober blogs and I came across Lash’s post. http://coffeebitch.blogspot.com/ He wrote about his son having a melt down because he didn’t want to stay at preschool that day; and his own reaction to the entire experience. Apparently his kid kicked and screamed and Lash had to take him out of there….well, read the post.

It was “just another manic Monday” for me. A long week looming ahead. I commented on Lash’s post: I want to go home too. I'm at work. If only I could kick the wall and scream and someone would love me enough to pick me up and take me outta here.

Obviously someone loved me enough

Less than four hours later my boss told me that my job is being cut back to two days a week.

I could write about my wounded ego, or about fear, or even about anger. They all came up. But those are all states of mind. They come, they go. They don’t serve me today.

What I want to write about is the absolute evidence that God is working in my life, gently caring for my mind, my body and my spirit. When we do our 3rd step prayer and surrender our will and our life to God’s care, it has been my experience that the Universe listens. We get gifts, even if we don’t like the way they are packaged.

We had a new Employer. Being all powerful, He provided what we needed, if we kept close to Him and performed His work well. Established on such a footing we became less and less interested in ourselves, our own little plans and designs. More and more we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to life. As we felt new power flow in, as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life successfully, as we became conscious of His presence, we began to lose our fear of today, tomorrow or the hereafter. We were reborn. Page 63 BB

Why We Were Chosen

Why We Were Chosen
An often seen piece of AA literature is a small pamphlet called "Why We Were Chosen". The source of this pamphlet is a speech given by Judge John T. on the 4th Anniversary of the Chicago Group in 1943. A portion of it follows.

God in His wisdom selected this group of men and women to be purveyors of His goodness. In selecting them through whom to bring about this phenomenon He went not to the proud, the mighty, the famous or the brilliant. He went instead to the humble, to the sick, to the unfortunate. He went right to the drunkard, the so-called weakling of the world. Well might He have said the following words to us:

"Unto your weak and feeble hands I have entrusted a power beyond estimate. To you has been given that which has been denied the most learned of your fellows. Not to scientists or statesmen, not to wives or mothers, not even to my priests or ministers have I given this gift of healing other alcoholics which I entrust to you."

"It must be used unselfishly; it carries with it grave responsibility. No day can be too long; no demands upon your time can be too urgent; no case can be too pitiful; no task too hard; no effort too great. It must be used with tolerance for I have restricted its application to no race, no creed, and no denomination. Personal criticism you must expect; lack of appreciation will be common; ridicule will be your lot; your motives will be misjudged. You must be prepared for adversity, for what men call adversity is the ladder you must use to ascend the rungs toward spiritual perfection, and remember, in the exercise of this power I shall not exact from you beyond your capabilities."

"You are not selected because of exceptional talents, and be careful always, if success attends your efforts not to ascribe to personal superiority that to which you can lay claim only by virtue of my gift. If I had wanted learned men to accomplish this mission, this power would have been entrusted to the physician and scientist. If I had wanted eloquent men, there would have been many anxious for the assignment, for talk is the easiest used of all talents with which I have endowed mankind. If I had wanted scholarly men, the world is filled with better qualified men than you who would be available. You were selected because you have been the outcasts of the world and your long experience as drunkards has made or should make you humbly alert to the cries of distress that come from the lonely hearts of alcoholics everywhere."

"Keep ever in mind the admission you made on the day of your profession in AA -- namely that you are powerless and that it was only with your willingness to turn your life and will unto my keeping that relief came to you."

Save My Ta-Tas

On January 31 our world lost another strong woman to breast cancer. Molly Ivins was a syndicated columnist who wrote about people, power, politics, and the absurdities of life. With humor and passion, whatever your position, she made you think. If you want to read more about her, check out 2dogs blog at http://twodogsbarking.blogspot.com/ .

I’m sad about Molly’s passing. This world needs more strong women who stand up for their principles, no matter what. I don’t want to write about her politics. I don’t want to distract myself from the larger issue here…. She kicked breast cancer in the ass for 7 years and kept on trudging.

Molly learned she had breast cancer in 1999 and described her treatments. “First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you,” she wrote. “I have been on blind dates better than that.”

When someone I care about is diagnosed with breast cancer (and there’s always someone it seems) it reminds me that it's time to go in for a mammogram AGAIN. God I hate that. But APPARENTLY it’s the only cost effective way that medical science has come up with for early detection. Now (gentlemen) let me give you a little clue about the mammogram experience from one of those joke emails that goes around.

Visit your garage at 3AM when the temperature of the cement floor is just perfect. Take off all your clothes and lie comfortably on the floor with one breast wedged under the rear tire of the car. Ask a friend to slowly back the car up until your breast is sufficiently flattened and chilled. Turn over and repeat with the other breast.

That is pretty damn accurate. Now, I have to ask, how come we can fly a jet over Pakistan and tell you what all those Pakistani people are eating for dinner; or park a van on a street in New York and peer into the private lives of skyscraper apartment dwellers, and yet this is the best medical science has come up with to check what’s up inside my ta-tas?

Freedom From Bondage

My friend S. walks this path with me. We manage to either see each other or talk daily, and hit a couple of meetings a week together. Our current obsession is dinner at Bagel Me before our Friday night meeting. We’ve agreed that the only acceptable excuse for missing that is “your own funeral.” It has nothing to do with the food. It’s all about the chance to sit down with someone dear to your heart and share an hour.

S. is an alcoholic that struggles with dual diagnosis of bi-polar issues. I’ve faced the demon of depression over the years myself, so I know the toll it can take on your ability to face “people, places and things.” It’s good to stay current, laugh, cry, hold hands and share our recovery insights. She has a degree in psychology and has worked in the field, but at this point in her life her comfort zone is animals. So she went back to school and is working as a vet tech. I understand that totally. My pets give me unconditional love and joy.

The cat in the picture above is named Ebony. His owner suffered brain damage in an auto accident in July. Ebony has been boarded at the vet’s office now for six months. Unfortunately, they have now been told his owner will not be able to take him home. I told S. I would try to help her find him a home. He is a sweet loving cat who has been declawed (all 4) and neutered. He comes when called, loves to purr and cuddle and deserves more than a cage.

I don’t know if this blog is the right way to start trying to find Ebony a home. I just know that today I am glad to be of service to a dear friend. Afterall, I’ve been locked up, haven’t we all?

Dog Beer Hits The Market

I saw this product advertised recently and was shocked. I took my concerns to our veterinarian and he confirmed my suspicions. It seems that an alarming number of dogs have been enjoying this Doggie Beer and have developed a real problem.

It starts innocently enough, just a little staying up late hanging out at the bowl. Then you get the howling loudly at inappropriate hours and refusing to obey. Some of them shred their toys with no apparent regard for the consequence; many of them develop a passion for jaywalking.

My vet said they are like dogs who have lost their legs. They never grow new ones. Without legs, the males can’t lift them. They dribble their pee everywhere, on rugs and carpets, even right next to the beer bowl, refusing to leave it for even a moment. The sad fact is that many of them have lost the power to choose whether they will drink this or not. They must have it, and they will pester you and pester you until you pour them more.

Please, for the sake of Walden & Twodogs, for Bunny & Olive, for Bob, Charlie & Lucy…for our canine friends everywhere….boycott this product.

The Twelve Spiritual Principles

Honesty
Step 1. We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.

Hope
Step 2. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Faith
Step 3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.

Courage
Step 4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Integrity
Step 5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

Willingness
Step 6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

Humility
Step 7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

Brotherly Love
Step 8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

Justice
Step 9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Perserverance
Step 10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

Spirituality
Step 11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of his will for us and the power to carry that out.

Service
Step 12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, especially alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Pandora's Box

Our Wed night meeting topic followed the reading in Just For Today: Isolation. All of the ways that Isolation cut us off from life when we were practicing our addictions; and how working a program of recovery can restore us to the life we were intended to live.

I show up at meetings to share my experience, strength and hope. This meeting was no different. I shared freely about the time in my life when I cut myself off from family, friends, spirituality and truth, hopelessly mired in my disease. I talked about lying, cheating and stealing. I shared about compromised morals and a complete loss of integrity. I also shared the hardest memories too, since there were other mothers in the room. These were memories concerning my daughter. The opportunities that were lost to her, the conditions she was forced to live in, and the hardships of my life that she witnessed at a very impressionable age. I try to wrap up all of my sharing with solution, so I did that too…. I described how it is today thanks to my program and a Power greater than myself that has restored my life.

I’m writing about this because I am uncomfortable and deeply sad today. For the first time ever I walked out of a meeting and my sharing has haunted me. Memories of this time in my life are flooding back. This has all been covered in my step work; will it ever stop hurting? Does shame ever completely go away? Are we ever really free of the bondage of self?

Today I do regret the past. Today I do wish to close the door on it. Forgive me.

My sponsor has directed me to the story of Pandora’ Box:

In Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman on earth. Zeus ordered Hephaestus, the god of craftsmanship, to create her and he did, using water and earth. The gods endowed her with many talents; Aphrodite gave her beauty, Apollo music, Hermes persuasion, and so forth. Hence her name: Pandora, "all-gifted".
Pandora had a box which she was not to open under any circumstance. Impelled by her natural curiosity, Pandora opened the box, and all evil contained escaped and spread over the earth. She hastened to close the lid, but the whole contents of the box had escaped, except for one thing which lay at the bottom, and that was Hope.

Today I will hold on to Hope. If there is one thing I know it is that This Too Shall Pass.

Ouch!

Just in case you think you're the only one having a bad day.......

Courage

"We grow by our willingness to face and rectify errors and convert them into assets."

page 124 Big Book

Sunday Morning Blessings

We work so damn hard, sometimes I wonder “how did I get here?” or “is it all really worth it?” At moments like that I need to take a moment to reflect on where I came from; where I am going; and ultimately to bring my mind back into the NOW.

The NOW is where my Higher Power speaks to me. The NOW is where an awareness of the true blessings of my life are revealed.

My husband is 17 years clean and sober, works a kick ass program and makes his living as a mortgage broker. He also devotes himself to hiking or climbing every weekend and is active in sober softball. His schedule is a nightmare.

I work as a controller for a company at quite a distance, so my job requires a long commute. I’d like to think I work a good program, so I hit at least 3 meetings a week. Some nights I drag myself home after a long day and I think “WTF? I’m too tired to think.” I throw being a wife, mother, friend, sponsor and HUMAN into the mix, and it overwhelms me. It’s tax time now and I’ve got my head in a craze about all of the work that needs to done.

Often it feels like Patrick and I are just ships passing in the night; each of us on our way to somewhere else.

I say that’s how it feels. The reality is, when I am willing to bring my head into this day, this moment, this NOW, our life together is full of sweet quiet moments. I just need to quiet my mind and open my eyes.

This morning we sat in the living room with the Sunday paper and the sun coming through the window. Patrick started a wrestling match with Lucy, and Bob and Charlie jumped in. It was great, it was a gift of our sobriety that I would have missed if my mind was cluttered and thinking ahead to all of the work that needs to be done.

I wonder how many other gifts I miss out on?

Meditation for the Day

I will take the most crowded day without fear. I believe that God is with me and controlling all. I will let confidence be the motif running through all the crowded day. I will not get worried, because I know that God is my helper. Underneath are the everlasting arms. I will rest in them, even though the day is full of things crowding in upon me.

Prayer for the Day

I pray that I may be calm and let nothing upset me. I pray that I may not let material things control me and choke out spiritual things.

From Twenty Four Hours a Day

Welcome Wagon

I've been enjoying a new sober blogger from London. Drop in and give him a comment if you will! http://odetoanightingale.blogspot.com/

Check The Small Print

I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered.

But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalog:

"No good in a bed, but fine against a wall."

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

WE ARE ONE

When I started blogging in August I really had no expectations. I’ve learned in my recovery program that often it is best to put effort into something (anything) without investing in the outcome. I’ve never been good at keeping a journal. I’ve had thoughts, memories, moments of clarity and epiphanies that I meant to jot down somewhere, but I never did. Time went by and some were lost forever.

I’ve always liked to write, but thought I needed some greater purpose to “put pen to paper”. My sponsor pointed me to blogging and I thought WTF I could do this!

The gifts of this experience have been similar to the gifts of working a program of recovery. They far far exceed anything I could possibly have imagined. I have had the honor and privilege of meeting and bonding with people from all over the country and even the globe. I have learned that the road we trudge is the same road.. Whether it is AA, NA, CA, Alanon, or just people dealing with life on life's own terms. WE ARE ONE.

I have shared my experience, strength and hope at a gut level and a heart to heart level with perfect strangers who somehow know me, who SEE ME, who “get me”. I have grown to love them. Likewise, I have been able to reach out to them, and without fail the answers come. My Higher Power speaks to me in mysterious ways.

These are troubled times for humanity. The saving grace for me is knowing that there are people everywhere who face common challenges, share common fears and suffer similar setbacks. And still they trudge. It doesn’t matter what religion we practice, FAITH unites us. Faith that we will prevail because we have turned our will and our lives over to the CARE of a power greater than ourselves.

For those of you who are part of my blogging community, thank you. My gratitude is deep. And for those of you who are not, look at the above picture, and meet some of the dearest, finest, most loving souls God ever created.

They knew they had a host of new friends; it seemed they had known these strangers always. They had seen miracles, and one was to come to them. They had visioned the Great Reality -- their loving and All Powerful Creator.

From A Vision For You Page 161 Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

Seventh Tradition

A one dollar bill ran into a twenty dollar bill at the bank one day and struck up a conversation. “So,how’s it going? asked the One. Where you been?” “Oh, the usual”, said the Twenty. “Restaurants, clubbing, went on a cruise actually, and made it down to Mexico a few times. How about you?” asked the Twenty?

“Oh, the usual” said the One … “meetings, meetings, meetings.”

The 7th Tradition
Every A.A. group ought to be fully self-supporting, declining outside contributions.

Evolving Spiritual Journey

"I know that faith in my Higher Power will not calm the storms of life, but it will calm my heart. I will let my faith shelter me in times of trouble."

Just For Today Daily Meditation January 11

Graffiti

You think so ??

Nothing To Fear

I had a using dream last night. I never know why they happen. Maybe this time it’s because I have an ear infection and there are pain meds in the house. (A time for vigilance.) What is interesting about the dream is what I learned from it. Normally when I have a dream like that, I wake up and try to shake it off. But lately I’ve become more willing to acknowledge ALL of my feelings, the good, the bad, and even the hideous. I bow to them, but they do not own me.

What surprised me about the dream is that I don’t remember the high. I didn’t dream anything about the circumstance at all…only that I had used and now I was faced with the terrible dilemma of the cover up.

In the BB Chapter Into Action it says “More than most people, the alcoholic leads a double life. He is very much the actor. To the outer world he presents his stage character. This is the one he likes his fellows to see. He wants to enjoy a certain reputation, but knows in his heart he doesn't deserve it.” This was me. I would go to any length to hide the reality of life. I lied, I isolated, and I cut myself off from friends and family. I built a house of cards, one lie supporting another, desperate to keep it all standing. Fear and constant despair, I was terrified on a daily basis.

In my dream I was desperate to hide the relapse. I schemed, lied, denied and watched myself sink into despair. It was good to wake up. I would like to think that my Higher Power tapped me on the shoulder and said “wake now, but take these reminders with you:”

We are only as sick as our secrets
Half measures avail us nothing
With honesty, open mindedness and willingness we are half way there

In my wakeful mind I know there is no shame in relapse. I would like to think I would never ever attempt to hide it, if I was so unfortunate. No, I think the point of the dream was to remind me that there are always aspects of our disease that are alive and well, just below the surface. I must be mindful. Secrets, lies, cover-ups, even if they are casual , are still secrets, lies and cover-ups. They are half measures. When might I cross the line?

Ultimately, the recovery we find in NA is something different: a chance at a new life. We've been given tools to clear the wreckage from our lives. We have been given support in courageously setting forth on a new path. And we've been given the gift of conscious contact with a Power greater than ourselves, providing us with the inner strength and direction we so sorely lacked in the past.

Recovering? Yes, in every way. We're recovering a whole new life, better than anything we ever dreamed possible. We are grateful.

Just For Today, Sunday Jan 7, 2007

Adios

Good bye to my sweet daughter Jolie. Vaya con Dios until we are together again.

It is difficult for us to learn something when we believe that all teaching should go in one direction. How much we miss in that arrogance.

Perhaps one of the reasons my child was chosen for me as a parent was because I had so much to learn.

From Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much by Anne Wilson Schaef

A New Beginning

Happy New Year is such a large wish. I like to take things in smaller increments. So I am wishing you all a Happy New Day, and hoping we all will be blessed with 364 more.

Tonight we will be sharing our home with friends and loved ones from the fellowship. What a blessing. I read A Vision For You this morning. I love the line "He will show you how to create the fellowship you crave." Another promise has come true...........

Remember in the coming year, More Will Be Revealed.

God Bless and Grace you All

Namaste

Today my gratitude is for my daughter Jolie's homecoming. She arrives Christmas Day!

Top Ten Things We'll Do While She Is Here:

1. Cuddle
2. Yak Yak Yak
3. Reindeer Prance Dance
4. Go to Starbucks
5. Shop the Sales
6. Go to Some Meetings
7. Run around in our jammies
8. Get a pedicure in a spa chair
9. Sing to the dogs
10. Cuddle more

Be Cautious In Holiday Traffic

Let's Share Ourselves This Season

People sure get into some strange behavior around the holidays. I don’t know, maybe it’s just another “expectation” I shouldn’t be romancing, but I keep waiting for that “comfort and joy” feeling to hit me up the side of the head.

Public places are vibrating with desperate energy and traffic is a test of patience and tolerance for even the best of us. Seems like a frenzy, not a holiday.

I keep trying to ignore it all. I made a decision to do my best to focus on spirituality this year, but it’s testing my will. Someone shared in my Friday night home group about how many people we will lose over the next two weeks not from drinking and using to celebrate, but from the stress of the holidays. It’s important that we hold tight to each other right now. Keep an open mind, an open heart, and if necessary an open door.

I need to be mindful of how I am feeling and how I am acting. I need to stay in gratitude and conscious contact with my Higher Power and my fellowship. I feel the best this time of year when I’m with the people who know and love me; the people who are there for me no matter what. They give me comfort. They give me joy.

Not Crazy After All These Years

I saw this postcard on www.postsecret.com this morning and had to smile. This was me 15 years ago (except I can’t play the guitar). When I was active in my addiction I had a sneaking suspicion that I was crazy. In fact when I went into rehab, I insisted that the diagnosis for my admission be “depression”, not “chemical addiction”. So there I sat, in a lock down unit with a group of severely depressed souls, staring at each other in group sessions, dabbing our eyes with Kleenex, and shuffling back to our rooms. Meanwhile down the hall, the substance abuse people were having their groups…..I’d hear laughter, tears, spirited participation and see little friendships forming. (We are not a glum lot). That was my first “attraction” to a program of recovery, and I hadn’t even made it into the rooms yet.

I asked to be moved to the substance abuse unit. I figured if I was gonna be there for 30 days I might as well hang out with the fun folks instead of the zombies. I was relieved to be out of the whack job unit, but still a little worried about my “crazy” problem. I mean, I had been living a life that was unimaginable (even to ME…and I was the one living it!)

A couple times a week they would load us up in a van and take us to 12 step meetings; and other times program panels would come in and tell their stories. It was in those meetings and listening to those panels that I got my first glimmer of hope. I began to learn that “in our addiction we courted fatal disease, degradation, exploitation, impoverishment, and death by violence, even death by sheer stupidity.” Insanity? Yes. But did that mean I was crazy? No. That meant I was a practicing addict.

It was such a relief to identify with other alcoholics and addicts and learn that I wasn’t crazy. More importantly, I learned that there is a solution. It is a solution for “clearing away the wreckage of the past” (and there was plenty) and starting to build a new life based on this “Fellowship of the Spirit”.

Today I still have crazy thoughts and impulses. They keep life interesting. I just trudge along ……..life is so complex. I don’t think I’d want it any other way.

He had found God -- and in finding God had found himself. Pg 158 Big Book Alcoholics Anonymous

6 Weird Things About Me

1. Sometimes I hold my dogs mouth closed and blow air up his nose till it comes out his mouth and his lips make a farty noise.

2. I am an ice cream snob - will only eat the most expensive brands , and then throw it away when its more than a week old.

3. I've been told I sleep with a smile on my face

4. I play with my ear lobes when I’m nervous

5. My life has a soundtrack. I have a song in my head at all times. When imagining events, I imagine the song that will be playing behind them.

6. I think men’s shoulders are sexy.

I tag... ....http://areasonaseasonalifetime.blogspot.com/ , http://coffeebitch.blogspot.com/ http://journalist-jones.blogspot.com/ http://soberdragon.blogspot.com/ http://anonymousbiker.blogspot.com/ http://www.raanch.com/

The Rules - Each player of this game starts with the 6 Weird Things About You. People who get tagged need to write a blog entry of their own 6 Weird Things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says you are tagged in their comments and tell them to read your blog!

There was a man who worked for the Post Office whose job it was to
process all the mail that had illegible addresses.

One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God with no
actual address. He thought he should open it to see what it was about.

The letter read:
Dear God,
I am an 83-year-old widow, living on a very small pension. Yesterday
someone stole my purse. It had $100 in it, which was all the money I had
until my next pension check.

Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends over for
dinner. Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with. I have no
family to turn to, and you are my only hope.

Can you please help me?

Sincerely,
Edna

The postal worker was touched. He showed the letter to all the other
workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few
dollars. By the time he made the rounds, he had collected $96, which
they put into an envelope and sent to the woman.

The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna
and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends. Christmas
came and went.

A few days later, another letter came from the same old lady to God.
All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened. It read,

Dear God,
How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of
your gift of love, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends.
We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift.
By the way, there was $4 missing.

I think it must have been those bastards at the Post Office

How often do I perform “good deeds” without expecting something in return? Not often enough I’m afraid. The “something” I usually expect is recognition. The Promises on pg.s 83 & 84 of the BB tell us that “self seeking will slip away”. This has been a slow process for me. It comes and goes.

There are countless opportunities for service work in our programs, our spiritual fellowships and our communities once we have been blessed with sobriety and returned to some semblance of sanity. It is important that I check my motives when investing my time and energy. Am I performing this service work out of gratitude? Or as it says in the third step prayer to bear witness to those I would help of God’s power, love and way of life?

This holiday season I know God will put people in my path that I can be of service to. I pray I can do it with humility, and when possible anonymously.

When I tell my story from the podium I am fortunate to say that I was raised in a comfortable home by parents who didn’t drink, abuse or neglect me. I have posted about both of my parents having alcoholic fathers. They must have thought they dodged a bullet, if they gave it any thought at all. But the disease is cunning, baffling and powerful. It just waited, skipped a generation, and manifested in me. How amazing and fortunate I am that I have the Fellowship and the Twelve Steps. My grandfathers were the ones the wolves took down.

My parents met at Dennison University in Ohio. Mom was there on tuition, Dad as a member of Officers Candidate School with the US Navy. They met when the navy guys were doing morning calisthenics under the girl’s dormitory window. Mom stuck her head out to yell at them to take it somewhere else. Next thing she knew she was pregnant living in Springfield, Ohio. If you read my previous posts you know my mom’s family was affluent, and my dad’s family was dirt poor. Mom had some changes to get used to…….

There were many changes over the years. They had five children. When the first two were born they had to put the legs of the cribs in pans of water to prevent rats from crawling up and getting to the babies. When they found out they were expecting a third child (me), Dad had to drop out of pre-med courses so he could take another job. When the next two came along, I guess it was just a matter of making space for more. Families seemed normally larger then. We took care of each other.

My parents were married for forty years. They were not always perfect parents, and it was not always a blissful marriage. But I was there to witness more than thirty years of it. When it was good, it was very good. And when it was bad, looking back, it seems we made the best of it. The hard times were always a learning opportunity for us kids. I learned lessons of perseverance, faith, integrity and loyalty to the ones you love that sustain me in my recovery.

My father retired as a Vice President of Purex Corp in 1983. He struggled with heart disease, but had high hopes for retirement. They sold everything, bought a motor home and hit the highway. Unfortunately they didn’t even make it 20 miles before his final heart attack took him from us. Mom held him and promised to see him in another place.

Yes, this is very sad. It has taken me over twenty years to understand that life is about beginnings and endings. Ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows. Each of them is an opportunity to feel with all of the intensity you can bear, each with a gift to offer. I am grateful that I can feel today. I am grateful that I am willing.