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.

This is a picture of my mom (on the left) taken in 1938 when she was eleven years old. If you read the post about my dad you can see mom came from a much different background. This was taken at her home in upstate New York, a place called Tall Pines, after the tall pine trees that lined the long drive up to the large white house. My great great grandfather built the home, and the adjacent carriage house. There were also stables, a large barn and a small airport across the road. The road is named Marsh Road, which is the family name.

Mom and her brother and sister are wearing crinoline and patent leather. They are well fed, well versed and they know their manners. They’ve been told to smile sweetly for the camera, which they do, although my uncle Jack stands slightly apart as though he would rather be somewhere else.

My parent’s childhoods look very different. They were actually quite similar. Both of their fathers were alcoholics. My mom’s father was a pilot, an actual wing walking barn stormer. He was a hard drinking womanizer too. But not much of a family man. He only came home long enough to “hang his pants on the bed post” and get my grandmother pregnant three times. He had affairs with other women, it is rumored that he fathered another child and he made no effort to apologize or hide any of it. He was a spoiled rich kid who abandoned his family and left them to be raised by his own parents at Tall Pines.

My mom doesn’t really remember much about her father. What she does remember is the pain of abandonment. Her own mother had to go find work in the city. This left the children at the mercy of their grandmother, who although she loved them in her own way, she was in denial about her son and she had harsh ideas about raising children. It’s as though she was so ashamed of her son’s behavior she believed she could cover it up by exacting high standards from these wounded little children. She was very strict and religious and Mom spent her childhood intent on earning love.

Alcoholism robbed my mother of childhood nurturing. Hugs, and kissed boo-boos, hours of story time, mud pies and wrestling on the floor with Dad. The children were never free to just have a childhood. It also robbed her of the ability to know the truth. Children were to be seen and not heard. They were shut out. There was an elephant in the room. The scandal was more important than healing.

My mom began her healing years later, although she still sets sometimes impossibly high standards for herself. It was not so easy for her brother, who committed suicide in 1964; or her dear sister who has had years of therapy. My mom has a warrior’s heart and she met her soul mate when she met my father. His father had also been an alcoholic, and he understood her soul and her pain. Perhaps they began their healing journey together without even speaking of it. They were married for forty years. That’s another post.

After a moment of silence for everyone suffering in this world
I offer a prayer of Thanksgiving for the blessings in my life

This is a picture of my father taken around 1938 when he was probably 10 yrs old in Springfield Ohio. His family was poor, dirt poor, capital P poor. I love looking at the ragged clothes and yet the sweet dignity of the tie. My father lived his whole life with dignity. It was a quiet dignity, balanced by a sometimes outrageous sense of humor and his obvious love for family and friends. But under it all, first and foremost, this man was a gentleman.

My father’s father was one of the town drunks. The 1930’s and 40’s in a place like Springfield Ohio were hard. America was in the midst of the Great Depression in the 30’s; jobs, food and money were scarce. When the disease of alcoholism claimed my grandfather it left my father and his brother in circumstances that would have been dire if not for the spiritual practices they followed in their home. My grandmother was not a religious woman. But she was the kind of woman we read about in the Big Book chapter To The Wives and The Family Afterward. She believed she needed to keep the family together at all costs, keep the home neat as a pin, somehow keep the boys fed and clothed, pray for God’s mercies and hope that someday her husband would “regain his sanity”. It is so sad that my grandfather never found his way from Springfield to Akron. So close and yet so far away.

My grandmother took a job washing dishes on the nightshift in a diner downtown. My dad would go to school, come home and do his homework, fix a meal for his brother and himself and go to bed. Then at 1am he would get up and ride his bike downtown to escort his mom home, keeping her safe from her drunken husband or anyone else on the streets. Then a few hours more sleep and up at 5 am to deliver a paper route. He also used to go wait in line at the fire station once a week for any food handouts they were offering. Sometimes it was just bacon grease. They would fry bread in the grease, and that would be the substitute for the week’s meat.

My father never told me any of this. He never spoke an unkind word about his father. He simply told me that my grandfather had been an alcoholic. I never saw my father drunk. I never saw him cry either, until we got word that his father had died. This disease is cunning, baffling and powerful.

My dad died in 1984, before I got clean and sober and this is the first time I have been able to write about him. I don’t know why I am able to write today. There is something shifting in me and it is bringing me a peace that I have been longing for. I have carried so many regrets that he never got to see the person I became, but I think I am finally coming to understand that I can let regrets go. He would want me to. I am sure Dad never read the Big Book, but he seemed to intuitively know the following passage when he dealt with his own father and he used it as a design for living his own life. So I will gratefully allow my dad to teach me one more thing:

Cling to the thought that in God’s hands, the dark past is the greatest possession you have --- the key to life and happiness for others. Pg 124

The value of our friendships is without measure.

The women of this program have shared so much with me.....

Today I know how to relax and let the love in.

Intimacy....In To Me See

The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray, "Take only one. God is watching."

Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. One child whispered to another, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples."

Today I am hoping that God is watching someone else and not me. I would hate to disappoint Him. Then again, I know He is watching me, and that is a good thing, because I need help.

I’ve got a bad case of self will run riot and a couple of new resentments that I’ve been whipping into a frenzy. It’s no wonder that I’m feeling disconnected. I need to return to center, pray for the “willingness to be willing” and focus on gratitude.

In the end these things matter most: How well did you love? How fully did you live? How deeply did you learn to let go? Buddha’s Little Instruction Book Jack Kornfield

New Election Rules According To Meg:

All Officials must within 48 hours of the close of voting:

Remove All Campaign Signs (their own AND their opponent’s---that's the price of success)

Restore the Surrounding Environment to its original condition

Penalty For Failure To Perform The Above Will Forfeit Election Victory

One of my sponsees relapsed this weekend, then put a few days together and drank again today. She is suffering from the phenomenon of craving that causes so many of us to “make the supreme sacrifice, rather than continue to fight.”

The sponsor/sponsee relationship is so special. Divine inspired and divine directed...sometimes it is the first time a person has ever been honest with another human or themselves. We bond heart to heart. When the dis-ease takes over, the walls go up and the bond is lost. I am feeling so sad. Now is the time for me to practice acceptance and faith. I am powerless.

I talked with her today, reminding her of what we read in The Doctor’s Opinion: She is beyond human aid, powerless over this disease and the answer lays in a power greater than herself. But the bottom line is there’s no reasoning with an angry, remorseful, drunk. And she sure didn’t want to hear about God.

So tomorrow she can wake up and expect a visit from the “hideous Four Horseman – Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration and Despair.

I guess the good news is that we are all still here for her. If she wants it.

Sunday Morning Gratitude:

The last fifteen years of my life have been rich and meaningful. I have had my share of problems, heartaches, and disappointments because that is life, but also I have known a great deal of joy and a peace that is the handmaiden of an inner freedom. I have a wealth of friends and, with my A.A. friends, an unusual quality of fellowship. For, to these people, I am truly related. First, through mutual pain and despair, and later through mutual objectives and newfound faith and hope. And, as these years go by, working together, sharing our experiences with one another, and also sharing mutual trust, understanding, and love--without strings, without obligation--we acquire relationships that are unique and priceless.There is no more aloneness, with that awful ache, so deep in the heart of every alcoholic that nothing, before, could ever reach it. That ache is gone and never need return again.Now there is a sense of belonging, of being wanted and needed and loved. In return for a bottle and a hangover, we have been given the Keys of the Kingdom.

from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous/ Personal Stories/ Pioneers of A.A.

Good humored patience is necessary with mischievous children
and your own mind

from Buddha's Little Instruction Book Jack Kornfield

Gentle on My Mind

The meditation I read this morning closed with the sentence "I will not let what I think destroy what I believe." Sometimes I swear these pages are aimed right at me, like little fortune cookies from my Higher Power.

I’m a thinker. A deep thinker. A bizarre thinker. A profound thinker. A thinker ad nauseum. And if I let them, these thoughts and ideas own me. The meditation went on to say “Ideas can be so seductive, and we are so easily seduced. We forget that ideas are just that, abstractions that have been thought up.”

The meditation book I currently use is Meditations For Women Who Do Too Much. I try to read it every day as soon as I get to work so I can get centered and shake off the brain wreckage of my commute. My life runs in high gear, my program, my family, my fellowship, my career and my MIND. I’m reminded of the Dire Straits song : If you wanna run cool, you gotta run some heavy heavy fuel….

I’m constantly searching for ways to cool my mind and spirit. I don't run heavy fuel anymore. The best I have found are related to time spent with my Higher Power in quiet meditation; time spent with my sponsor with an open mind, and in time spent with other addicts sharing the message.

When I do those things my mind is quiet and I have the freedom to celebrate the woman I believe myself to be.

I’m trying to put together something to wear to a Halloween party tonight. I’ve already decided against a costume, but I want to wear something…….you know, “Halloweenish”. Honestly, my only criteria and number one requirement is I don’t want to look ridiculous.

I know, I know : “You shouldn’t feel that way”. “Page 62,” “Self seeking will slip away” Shut up, apparently I’m not there yet when it comes to my appearance.

On days like this I desperately miss my daughter Jolie. She moved up to Everett, WA in May. We’ve always been bonded tightly. Sometimes more like best friends than mother/daughter. There were years where we struggled with everything together. I guess that’s because while she was growing up, I was getting sober and growing up too.

Not having her in my daily life has been a trudge similar to my early sobriety. I just try to get through it one day at a time, dealing with the feelings as they come up. I surrender her to God and her own path every time I feel the ache.

Today I’m thinking about Jolie’s loving eyes. Not how they look, but rather how she sees me with them. Like so many women in recovery, I can’t always see myself clearly. But my little fashion consultant can. She sprawls on my bed while I’m getting dressed, and when I think I’m ready I look to her for the “nod”. If she rolls her eyes at me, I head back to the closet. The thing is, sometimes I try too hard. Jolie loves me just the way I am. And she’s honest and loving enough to say “you look good just the way you are. ” What a concept.

So back to the Halloween party. I need to figure out what to wear. I am in acceptance that Jolie isn’t here to help. So I decide, against my better judgment, to run it by my husband. He’s in the family room when I stroll out and strike a pose. He looks me up and down, and asks “have you seen the big , fat, rubber band I had laying on the counter ?”. God save me from alcoholic men.

When I was growing up my dad had a zillion expressions to make us kids laugh.

So today…

In honor of my Father who I miss every day

In gratitude to all of you who showed me how to laugh again

And in order to say HAPPY HALLOWEEN

LET’S ALL PEEL OFF OUR SKIN AND DANCE AROUND IN OUR BONES !!!

These are pictures from Patrick's rim to rim Grand Canyon hike two weeks ago.
Evidence of the existence of A Higher Power wouldn't you say?

Today's prayer from Twenty Four Hours A Day:

I pray that I may build a house in my soul for the spirit of God to dwell in. I pray that I may come at last to an unshakeable faith.

"A man was lost in the desert and was near death for lack of water. Soon he came across a pump with a canteen hung on the handle and a note. The note read as follows: "Below you is all the fresh water you could ever need, and the canteen contains exactly enough water to prime the pump." What would you do?

Now that’s a question of Faith. Each of the steps in our program has a principle behind it, and Faith is the principle of the third step. The Step is: We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Turning my life over to the care of God was a no-brainer for me. I believe in a power greater than myself, and it’s comforting to trust in a loving caring God. But turning my will over is a whole other story! That means complete surrender. And that requires Faith.

It’s so hard to surrender my desire to control people places and things. I wake up, say the third step prayer, and give all my problems and concerns to God. By the time I hit the freeway I’ve got most of them swimming around in my head again.

I have a sponsee who is working her third step, so we talk about faith a lot. I tell her what I’ve learned is that we “practice” faith, and that yes, it can be a daily struggle. Fortunately, this is a program of progress, not perfection. Four times in the Big Book is the phrase “faith without works is dead”. So we’ll keep working at it.

When I was 15 my sister Caron pierced my ears with a sewing needle and a potato. We didn’t have permission or any money, but I wanted my ears pierced more than anything in the world. She put an ice cube on my ear lobe first, then jabbed that needle right through the earlobe into a potato (twice naturally, since I have 2 ears). I considered myself very brave at the time. Now, looking back, I realize she was the brave one. I can’t imagine running a sewing needle through someone’s earlobe while they squealed like a piglet, and then doing it again.

I have discovered over the years that there isn’t much my sisters wouldn’t do for me. I have two sisters. My older sister Caron is stoic and accepting of whatever life throws at her. She is content to live in “today”, giving her energy to her plants and animals, and she loves her children with a fierce obsession. She loved me enough in 1991 to make me face my addictions and enter rehab.

My younger sister Nancy is a social worker at Children’s Hospital in Orange. She works with children in pain and families in crises. Nancy has within her a gentle calm and spirituality that radiates. She is loyal and loving and has been there for me in my darkest moments.

I am right in the middle. It’s nice being in the middle. When we walk arm in arm, one of them is on either side. Having a sister is a guarantee that you will always have a part of your childhood. We have shared clothes, hair dryers, bedrooms, secrets, hopes and dreams. There are memories we share that are locked in our hearts forever. It is a powerful bond, thank you Caron and Nancy, I love you.

I have been asked often about the title of my blog, so here it is---

X & Y - Coldplay


Trying hard to speak and
Fighting with my weak hand
Driven to distraction
So part of the plan
When something is broken
And you try to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way you can
I'm diving off the deep end
You've become my best friend
I wanna love you
But I don't know if I can
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can
You and me are floating on a tidal wave...Together
You and me are drifting into outer space...
And singing
You and me are floating on a tidal wave...Together

I collect monkey statues. The little See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil monkeys. Maybe I love them because I would like to view life that way. There is something very comforting about rose colored glasses. Evil? Suffering? What? I didn’t see anything.

I have been challenging myself to take a look, and more importantly, feel, what is going on around me. I also have been taking a look at what is going on in me. What do I think? What do I feel? What is my responsibility? What is real in my life and what is an old tired fantasy or resentment that needs to be laid to rest. Maybe it is the result of re-working the steps. Maybe it’s just some long overdue personal growth. But I’m grateful that I’m willing to look at reality today, and surrender the painful parts to God.

The other day at work there was a drunk passed out on the sidewalk in front of our office. The same day a crack-head was beating his woman on the street. Both cases made me feel so sad, and powerless to help. My sponsor told me not to take on their suffering. He said that instead I should continue to work at the root of the problem. His advice empowered me. I will work with the newcomer and I will give comfort and support to the women who have been battered due to their involvement with drugs and alcohol. And I will thank God for the opportunity to be of service.

In July 2001 my daughter Jolie and I went to Paris for two weeks. The trip was planned as a high school graduation gift, but I had other motives too. I knew that Jolie was going to be making life altering decisions in the years to come, and I wanted her to start thinking globally. I wanted her to experience cultural differences and be immersed in the unfamiliar. I had traveled before, I wanted her to see and feel all of it. There is nothing quite like the experience of clearing customs at Chas Degaulle Airport and realizing you don’t speak the language, you can’t spend your money, you don’t know where the hotel is and Paris is full of FRENCH people who don’t generally like Americans. It is humbling. We did it together, and it was wonderful and scary and amazing and unforgettable.

Jolie is full of goodness and light. Everywhere we went she attracted people and we made friends. We avoided most of the tourist destinations and instead went wherever there was music or people in the streets. We ate many nights at a Café, where the owners taught us Greek dancing. We rode the metro and walked for miles and miles. Since we were there for two weeks, we made friends and began to feel a sense of community. It was everything I hoped for. I think there is something shining around Jolie that will enable her to be a citizen of “anywhere”.

All of the churches in Paris ring their bells at the same time each morning. It is a beautiful sound, bells ringing from every direction. A waiter at our café told us the reason the bells are all rung at the same time is so that everyone’s hearts will start to beat in sync. I don’t know if that is true. But I know that we had two amazing weeks together, right on that cusp between childhood and adulthood. Jolie lives in Washington now, and I’m still down here in So Cal, but we heard the bells together and our hearts still beat in sync.