Wisdom and Patience...Testing 1, 2, 3

Wow- it's been awhile since I made a post.

Wow- I've got so much drama going on.

Wow- I made it through Christmas with the family...sober! I picked up the phone instead of picking up a drink. And I have to say, talking out my problems and frustrations with another alcoholic was sooo much more effective than trying to stuff them, deny them, and drown them out with alcohol. Because the latter was temporary, you know...as soon as I was sober, I had to get drunk all over again to keep those feelings at bay.

After getting home from family time I was so upset. I went from confusion, to hurt, to completely pissed by the time my head hit the pillow. I wanted to go to sleep, but my mind churned until 2 in the morning and I finally drifted off from exhaustion. I kept getting ideas of picking up the phone and calling the person who had been the source of my anger. By the time the clock chimed 12, the phone idea turned to an e-mail idea. I just wanted to blast this person. I wanted my anger to tear through them like sharp daggers. I wanted to verbally rip them apart. Part of my not being able to sleep was from the energy it took to restrain myself from getting out of bed, running to the phone or the laptop and giving in to my desire to give them a very large piece of my mind.

I kept telling myself that those ideas were not the ideal way to handle this situation. Wait until the morning. Call them once you have calmed down and you have your thoughts together. Address it like an adult. Wait until the morning when you can own your feelings by being assertive and not some crazed, emotional despot coming apart at the seams.

And, I did that.

When I Knew I Was An Alcoholic

I just had the privilege of listening to someone speak about their experience with alcohol. My ears always perk up whenever he shares at a meeting. He never fails to offer dead-on insight into the trials and tribulations of alcoholic tendencies, behaviors, and thinking patterns. I always take away some nugget of wisdom to ponder and question and turn over in my brain.

He related so many profound tidbits that I found myself wishing I'd had a tape recorder or a least a note pad to jot stuff down. I'm probably not able to quote this verbatim by memory, but he said something to the effect of:

'I didn't know I was an alcoholic until I tried to stop drinking. I knew I had a drinking problem. I always had problems when I drank. But, it wasn't until I tried to stop and I couldn't: that's when I knew I was an alcoholic' -H

Yep, that pretty much nailed it for me.

I knew I had a drinking problem for a long time. In the beginning, my problem was getting sick. I just wanted to be able to drink as much as I wanted without upchucking all over the place. Damn- if I could just figure out how to avoid getting sick. That last drink was the culprit. It ways always the 15th or 16th beer; the one I had only had one or two swallows of; the one that had me trying to get to the toilet...stat! Of course, there were many times that there wasn't much of a warning and the best I could do was to avoid my shoes ( and other people's shoes, too).

If I could just figure out which beer would be the one that was going to make me sick I could leave it unopened and my drinking problem would be solved! Yea!

That was in the beginning, before all of my other problems with drinking made themselves known. The relationship problems, the depression, the financial problems, the job problems, the hangovers, the not caring about myself, the isolation, the broken commitments, the I hate my life problems, the wreck my car problems...and the list goes on.

And honestly, when I had a drinking problem, I didn't relate all of those other problems to alcohol. I really didn't. I just thought life had dealt me a bad hand, it was my mom's fault, it was my husbands fault, it was my bitchy boss, it was the bank, the economy, my terrible and cheated from me childhood. Or the fact that I didn't drink a few glasses of water the night before or I forgot to take a few Excedrin before going to bed or I should have drank top shelf or I shouldn't have had the house wine.

It was NEVER: maybe I shouldn't drink.

Cunning, Baffling, Powerful...Oh My!

I was thinking about a post I wrote earlier- mulling over the memories it brought to the surface, tossing them around in my head and began to feel this gentle tug, this little nudge deep down that began to vibrate and morph into something solid. It came on as warm and inviting and I found myself wanting to melt right into it. I found myself wanting to reach in and embrace it like a long, lost lover come home.

 

And then this feeling transformed into thoughts...

 

Don't you want to feel that way again?

 

To feel the not feeling again; to be numb; to feel the oblivion again?

 

For a second, for just a split second, I was romanticising about a drink- no, not a drink- a drunk.

 

Ohhhh, don't you want to feel like shit again?

 

To be wrapped up in your own personal hell again?

 

That brought me right out of it!

 

One second, I'm thinking about how terrible my drinking was and how relieved I am to be sober and the next second, I get this weird desire for a drink.

 

Cunning, baffling, powerful, I tell ya.

 

Of course, it's how I handle that desire that matters. It's going to happen- there are going to be times that having a drink almost seems like a good idea, but I know the truth. Here are a few of the sayings I've heard in the rooms that I have come to internalize and hold them as facts- as the absolute truth. I use them when I feel those little nudges or start romanticizing a drink.

 

I know that one drink will be too many and too many is never enough.

 

I may think one drink isn't going to hurt me, but if I'm hit by a train it won't be the caboose that kills me.

 

My disease is like a mugger in a dark ally, always waiting to jump me when I'm vulnerable and not paying attention.

 

I can be an alcoholic with a solution or a drunk with a problem.

 

There are no drink worthy events.

 

A drink sounds good because I am H.A.L.T. (hungry, angry, lonely, tired)

 

And, if it's really bad, if I start to get that wet sand feeling in my skull...

 

I call another alcoholic.

 

I call my sponsor.

 

I get my ass to a meeting...Pronto!

 

Those things make me feel better than any drink ever could...and that's the honest to goodness truth!

 

 

Hiding and Sneaking Alcohol

I was sitting in a meeting the other day and someone shared something that sparked a memory of a few of my drinking behaviors that I had forgotten about.

 

He said that even though he had been sober for a few years, every once in awhile he would cough as he popped the top on a soda as a way to hide the noise. This tic had developed, he explained, from a tactic he used in hopes that the cough would distract from the sound of opening a can of beer while standing at the fridge and fool his wife as to what he was really up to in the kitchen. Isn't that slick?!

 

I listened to him tell his story and couldn't help but laugh- because WOW! Could I identify with that. It's being able to relate to stories like that that, to me, which validates and compounds the fact that I was and AM an alcoholic.

 

I mean, let's be honest...

 

If you weren't an alcoholic, why would you feel the need to hide or sneak your booze?

 

Wasn't I hiding and sneaking alcohol because I knew the amount I was drinking was excessive and that drinking, at say, 8 in the morning wasn't normal behavior?

 

Ya, think?!

 

Quick Thought- Value and Worth

I didn't think I would ever be able to use the word worthy when describing how I feel about myself. I've never known what it meant to feel worthy- until now that is. I know its opposite rather well; quite intimately, in fact. Maybe, that is why I appreciate this new awareness so much: feeling worthy is so much better than feeling unworthy.

I have value.

Do you know what that's like?

To feel worthy?

To feel of value?

The work of recovery is so valuable and so worth the effort.

I am so grateful to have had the willingness to continue the journey.

Making Room for Mistakes: Progress Not Perfection

Everyone makes mistakes, right?

We are all fallible...right? Isn't that one of the conditions that come with being human? How can we experience growth if we did not have mistakes to learn from?

So, why does this need for me to be infallible persist? Why is it easy for me to tolerate the mistakes of others and so difficult to allow myself a little room for error?

I've become aware, recently, that I can either view the mistakes I've made (and will continue to make!) as lessons that can help to shape how I live my life OR I can allow them to become obstacles that define me- as a failure or a loser- and prevent me from making upwards progress in my life. When I allow mistakes to define me in negatives ways I become very fearful and I worry about perfection and I develop disparaging thoughts about my abilities. I think of myself as inept and I cannot bring myself to try anything new or push the limits of my comfort zone. I become complacent. I become frustrated. I feel useless. I feel helpless. I drink.

The perfection thing has really hurt me. It's really kept me from leading a more fulfilling life. It is a character defect that was probably conceived at a young age when I was belittled over not doing something right on the first (or second or third) attempt. I know I have a huge fear of being made fun of or looking like a fool. I have a huge fear of being judged by others. I find that I am my worst critic and I judge myself more harshly than any other person would dream of doing; and that in turn, makes me my own worst enemy. Sometimes, I am paralyzed by the fear of making mistakes, or not being perfect, that I cannot bring myself to start something I want or need to do. Like the 4th step or painting or saying the right words in a conversation or driving to a new place or...writing this post. Once I allow the fear of making mistakes to get a foothold in my head, it multiplies and flows into every aspect imaginable. Those thoughts become a thick blanket that covers everything and it binds me and it hinders me and it ultimately defines me. That fear becomes the muscle behind my actions, the motivator for my behavior, and the dictator of my thoughts.

I can hear some of those thoughts right now:

I'm not any good at this, why even try? I'm just going to fall flat on my face. No one will like, appreciate, use, want...what I produce, have, make, offer. I can't/won't be successful. (and there may even be an annoying little weed growing amongst all that muck which says: I don't deserve anything good or worthwhile)

Do you know what I'm talking about?

Do you experience these little voices that pop up out of nowhere telling you what an unsuccessful, undeserving schmuck you are?

The End of 2012- Looking Back

It's December, the last month in the year 2012.

 

What a year it has been! The thought crossed my mind to list all of the accomplishments I've worked toward and the gifts that have been bestowed upon me over the last year and I laughed- that's going to be one long list!

 

When I was drinking, making a list like that would have been pathetically short and would have been so depressing that there is no doubt I would have drank out of self-pity stemming from the realization of how empty and meaningless my life had become.

 

If you have worked a program of recovery for any length of time, then you probably know exactly what I'm talking about!

 

So, back to this list and all that has happened in the year 20-12...

 

Making Amends...To Myself

I can be pretty hard on myself as far as expectations and standards of who and where I should be; especially, now that I am sober. I think I have a lot of residual guilt and remorse over all of the time I wasted drinking; all the opportunities I missed because getting drunk was so important; and all of the limitations I imposed on myself through my alcoholism. Sometimes I find that I am in a funk over not achieving goals I think I should have reached by now, not just in sobriety, but life in general- I'm middle-aged, single, no kids, no awe inspiring career, no college degree- I tend to get wrapped up in thinking about all of the things I haven't done and then I admonish myself for being a failure.

 

I was relating this to a friend in the program and she ticked off a decent amount of things that I have accomplished; things I have welcomed into my life since committing to sobriety; and opportunities that I am creating just by being sober. I found that it was difficult for me to listen and accept all of the compliments she was giving me- like she was handing me little presents all wrapped up and pretty, each containing a small piece of me tucked inside like a precious gem. I thought myself undeserving of such gifts and I shied away from her praise.

 

Why do I do that?

 

Why is it easier for me to accept the bad parts, the flaws and the defects than it is for me to acknowledge all of the good stuff, my assets and abilities and accomplishments?

 

Transformation of Recovery

I was admiring myself in the bathroom mirror last night.

 

Yep, Admiring.

 

I do this quite often now, check myself out in the mirror. I can't help it- it just feels so good to look upon my reflection with fondness and appreciation. Whereas, when I was drinking, I couldn't stand the sight of myself. I would divert my eyes and do my best not to focus on my face- my red, blotchy, bloated face with bloodshot eyes and deep wrinkles etched around the frown of my mouth. Ugh, I didn't want to see it. I felt so ugly- from the inside out. Now, it's rare not to have a beautifully buoyant, happy, smiling face staring back at me. Sometimes I will strike little poses, turning my head side to side, trying out different expressions and then laughing at myself- laughing and loving myself.

 

Finally! Getting comfortable with me!

 

Not only that, but...

 

I FEEL ALIVE!!

 

That spark of hope that had been extinguished by my drinking is once again burning within. I feel that light flowing through my veins and flowing through my life. It is such an unbelievable feeling; one that I did not think I would ever experience; could ever experience. I can try my best to articulate it- I could describe how I had confined myself to darkness and shadows and how inexplicably wonderful it is to be able to step into the light, to feel the radiating warmth embracing me like a long, lost love. I could tell you how I had surrendered to a broken spirit and mourned its passing with the sadness of an abandoned child and how the healing I once thought impossible is taking place, pulling all of those broken shards together and mending the pieces so that becomes whole again; something tangible again.

 

Fear of Never Drinking Again

When I began to take those first few steps into sobriety, I'm not sure which fear was had the most power: the fear that I would never drink again or the fear that I would.

There was a part of me that scoffed at the idea of never taking another drink. I mean, come on! What was I supposed to do with myself? How was I supposed to have fun? Celebrate? What about dinner? How was I supposed to go out and have dinner on a Friday night? How odd it would be to decline a pre-appetizer 'something' from the bar, while I look over my menu, drink offered by the waiter. Not drinking equaled Boring as far as I was concerned. Everything I did related to drinking- going out, socializing, letting loose, relaxing, shopping, listening to music, painting, writing, watching tv, reading, and dealing with a myriad of emotions- rejection, anger, fear, grief, excitement, anxiousness. And of course, what in the world would it look like to other people when I went out and ordered a diet coke...without the Jack? Not drinking was going to suck- Big Time; at least, that's what I thought.

All of those thoughts and fears were there during my first few days and weeks of sobriety, just as they had always been; but because my last drunk was so hellaciously scary, the fear of getting drunk again slid into the top spot for the first time ever. All of those other fears were pushed aside and the thought of never getting drunk again looked pretty damn good.  And, I was lucky that it continued to hold it's place as fear number one until I had enough time into recovery to see the reality of my powerlessness over alcohol.

11 Months of Sober Gratitude

11 months without a drink. 11 months full of hangover free mornings. 11 months of not missing work from a binge the night before. 11 months of being able to look in the mirror without turning away in disgust. 11 months of being able to respect the choices I've made. 11 months of memories that are not laced with regret. 11 months of being able to breathe. 11 months of sober gratitude.

When I first came into the rooms, I heard people speak all these cliche's and my critic would heckle them inside my head- give me a break, what is wrong with these people, that's so stupid; I would mentally roll my eyes. If you've been in the rooms you know what I'm talking about. You've heard the AA banter; the little pennants of moral support waved around the room to invoke hope. Your own little critic may have been having a field day with sayings like: "A grateful alcoholic never drinks" or "I have a life that's second to none" or "My worst day sober is better than my best day of drinking". And let us not forget, "It works if you work it".

I admit, I privately mocked all of those happy-go-lucky AA sentiments. Probably because I didn't believe that I would ever be able to say those things and mean it. I didn't believe that any of those things would ever be real for me. It was easier to think that these people and their flag waving motto's were a joke than to admit that I wanted to be like them, I wanted what they had, but was too afraid to allow myself to hope for something that seemed so unattainable. These people, these alcoholic, also spoke incessantly about believing in a power greater than myself. The only thing I believed in when I first came into the rooms was the power of the drink and the inevitable failure that would surely follow any attempt to get out from under that power.

Emotional Stability in Sobriety

Recently, someone reached this blog by searching the phrase- emotional affects of 6 months sober. That inquiry sparked some in-depth, critical thinking sessions on how much my emotional health has improved by not drinking AND by working a program of recovery. There is a strong correlation between my days of sobriety and my emotional health. Every day that I don't pick up a drink is a day that an old wound heals a little more or a day that I feel a little better about myself.

 

And, that outcome makes sense, doesn't it? For me, I hated my drinking; I hated myself for drinking and for not being able to stop drinking. So it would make sense that once I removed the cause that incited so much self-hate, I wouldn't hate myself so much! This makes it so much easier to get close to who and all that I really am. It makes it so much easier to begin to take care of myself and honor myself and trust myself. In being able to do these things, I have slowly began to experience a sense of freedom and relief on a level that I would have never known existed otherwise.

 

For the first time in my life, I am experiencing emotional stability. I think that was an awareness that came to me in May (which was around the 6 month mark). May, in particular, was a month where my new tools for living were put to the test-

 

My doggie developed a high fever one evening which scared the hell out of me, but thankfully I was sober and I was able to stay calm and tend to her. I was able to break her fever down, but if I would have had to drive her the 20 or 30 miles to the emergency vet in the middle of the night, I could have done so without any apprehension. I hate to think how I would have handled that situation had I been drinking. Her symptoms were so subtle that I may not have even known how sick she was. By the time she was burning up and shaking from chills, I would have been oblivious or passed out. And, would she have made it through the night? Not a question I have pondered lightly.

 

Also, in May, my computer crashed, the starter in my car died, and then the car battery died. It was one thing after the next! Every Friday in May brought some new aggravation. These events, before recovery, would have put my emotions all over the map. They are perfect examples of what were once binge inducing events. My solution a year ago would have been to drink and obsess and feel bad and then drink some more. I would have been up and down- something out of my control happens and I am down, I drink to temporarily come up and forget that I am down. Then I sober up, feel like crap and still have the unresolved problem and I'm down again.

 

Given my old methods of approach, it isn't hard to see how impossible it was to trust in my ability to make decisions and cope or to ever garner any kind of positive emotional footing. I was an emotional mess- my brain was a passenger on a never ending rollercoaster ride. That was then though and this is now!

 

When all was said and done; when each of those situations had been handled, rectified, and solved, I noticed something- I noticed that I had systematically handled, coped, and resolved all of those events without freaking out and most importantly, without taking a drink. Now, to most people, that may not seem like a big deal- coping with the day to day doesn't seem like a very novel and profound accomplishment. But to an alcoholic, at least to this alcoholic, my ability to cope with all of those nuisances in a rational and levelheaded manner was not just an achievement- it was a miracle; a true milestone in my life and all that I have known it to be.

 

I handle myself so differently now. I am able to think about the best course of action instead of simply reacting from a place of fear or anger. To be able to see these differences in my behaviors elevates my confidence and trust which has a huge impact on my emotions. For example, was I upset when I had to cancel my plans for the day because my car wouldn't turn over? Yes. I was upset and disappointed, but I didn't let those emotions rule me. I didn't let them carry me down into the abyss of pity and despair. I didn't make a bad situation worse by drinking. And, I had people who were willing to help me resolve my dilemma. I didn't force myself to take it all on alone. Actually, what all of those seemingly negative events did was to show me just how much the people in my life care and are willing to lend me a hand. They wanted to be there for me and I let them. I let them be there for me; another HUGE milestone.

 

I feel the need to make it very clear that I do not believe that my increase in emotional stability and this new sense of well being I am experiencing can only be contributed to my not drinking. I believe that the credit truly lies with learning a new way to live through AA and the tools and support the program has provided. Even if I could have 'put the plug in the jug', (which was impossible for me to accomplish until AA), I would have still been left with the same behavior methods and thought processes that led me to empty the jug in the first place. I needed to learn NEW behaviors and DIFFERENT thought processes in order to live with sobriety. Today, I feel like I am leading an effective and satisfying life and that has everything to do with the "emotional affects" of living sober through recovery.

 

 

For Me, Not Drinking Is Not Normal

I like waking up on a Sunday morning without the dirty taste of last night's beer in my mouth and the dry stink in my sinuses. I like waking up and being able to get out of bed without the room tilting and my head banging. I like waking up without having to wonder if I'm going to need to replace my morning coffee with a few cold ones to get my system straight and stop the quakes that pound my insides like rough waves on a stormy afternoon. I know what it's like to drink all day, everyday. I know what it's like to be on the front lines of a battle that never ends and one that I could never win. I was always the loser when I went to war against myself with alcohol as my weapon. I know what it's like for my life to be as empty as that last bottle I chucked. I know what it's like to live with all of these things. I also know what it's like to live without them- and I like definitely like living without them.

But the thing is, me not living with all of those things is not normal. It's not normal for me not to drink, not yet anyway. It's not normal for me to not drink when I'm scared or when I feel rejected or threatened or bored or pissed off. It's not normal to ask my higher power for guidance or patience or temperance. It's not normal for me to call another alcoholic for comfort or solace or advice. It's not normal for me to have boundaries or to care about myself or to live in the present moment. It's not normal for me to be realistic and responsible and trustworthy. It's not normal for my life to be manageable and fulfilling and purposeful. I heard something the other day that stuck in my brain- drinking for me was normal; not drinking is abnormal. I am now learning to deal with life and normal situations in a very abnormal way. This is true for me- reaching for a drink was my normal response when it came to coping with normal, everyday life situations- good and bad.
I am learning how to be more aware of my reactions and sensitive to how I go about responding to whatever it is that may be unfolding- I am learning how to pause and think things through which is abnormal and at times, frustrating, but it has gotten easier. I have faith that what seems abnormal now will, with a little bit of time and a lot of practice, become second nature.

I'm learning a new way to live through a program of recovery and the tools of AA. Today I can choose what I want to live with and I can decide what I would rather live without- I wasn't able to do that when I was drinking. I like how I'm living now so much better than how I was living before.

Getting Comfortable with Myself Through Recovery

If you had asked me what I truly wanted, more than anything; if I could have one wish, what would it be? My honest answer, from deep down within, would be to not hate myself. More than anything I would want to know what it feels like be completely comfortable with myself, to be okay with being me. This has been a burning desire and a personal wish for me for as long as I can remember. I have a memory from when I was 13 or 14 and I wrote in a journal- I hate myself, nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I'm fat, I'm ugly, and I hate myself over and over again. I filled up pages detailing what a horrible and unworthy person I was. These are the feelings that I have carried with me for more than 20 years now. How I long to be free of their self-depreciating influence.

 

I often notice certain women as I am out and about- the kind of women that scream "I am comfortable with myself" without ever saying a word. The kind of women that drip with self esteem and wear their confidence like sparkling jewels. I notice them and I watch them and I think with longing, "ohhh, how I want to be one of those women." I want what they have.

 

Those women were so unlike myself; they were so self-assured. They are the kind of women who look you in the eye and walk with their shoulders back and up and heads held high. They are the ones whose presence is graceful and dignified and speak without much hesitation. Those women are not afraid to announce their position, state their opinion, or respect their own boundaries- even if it conflicts with another. You don't have to wonder if they take care of themselves. You don't have to ask if they respect themselves or possess a strong sense of self-love and appreciation, you can sense it. You can feel their self-worth like a vibration buzzing against your skin. Would I ever be able to file myself within their ranks? Would I ever be able to have even the tiniest sliver of that pie? Could I please have just a little bit, just a taste?

 

One of the first things that struck me when I came into the rooms was the program seemed to be full of those women. How was it possible that so many of them were concentrated in one spot. They were everywhere! They congregated together chatting and laughing. To me, they were like rays of sunshine penetrating through dark, stormy clouds- I was drawn to the warmth and the light they emitted. I wanted to talk to them. I wanted to know their secret, but I held back because surely they would discover right away that I wasn't of their kind. I wasn't worth the effort of their acknowledgement or conversation. Just being in the same room with them caused all of my insecurities to multiply and my self-consciousness to surge. I shied away from them and resigned myself to the corner where I figured I belonged. Before the meeting dispersed, a few would approach me and ask gentle questions and offer me kindness and understanding. I was scared to death. Why would they want to talk to me? Why would they want to know me? I was so defensive at first; so full of doubt and skepticism. What I didn't know at the time was that they had not always been one of those women. They had not always been close friends with all of the positive attributes related to self. They had not always been someone comfortable with themselves. What I didn't know is that once upon a time, they had been someone just like me.

 

My wish, my desire, my longing to be at peace with myself has become a goal in my recovery. The women that I attend meetings with give me hope way beyond wishful thinking- they have taken my hand and have shown me how to get what I want. When I let them lead the way, they guide me to what is real and possible and within my reach.

 

I bring all of this up because last night my sponsor enlightened me. We were in the midst of going over the work I had completed for the fourth step and I told her my about my secret wish to one day become one of those women and she turned to me and looked at me with an expression of seriousness and wonder and said, but you are one of those women now. Don't you see? You ARE one of those women. You ARE.

 

I am?

 

Yes, she says, yes.

 

It took me a little while to digest her observation. I didn't believe her at first, my self-doubt still at the head of the line, taking center stage. But when I got up the next morning and I looked at myself in the mirror I couldn't help but smile because I knew she was right. I had finally tipped the scales in favor of my positive attributes. Through recovery my confidence, trust, respect, love, and care towards self has experienced tremendous growth. I am finally feeling a sense of peace from within. I am finally getting comfortable with myself- what a gift!

Was that Alcoholic Mess My Life?

Everyday that I stay sober is another day that I feel better about myself.

A year ago this weekend, my drinking had reached a pivotal point and I found myself at a meeting where I picked up my first white chip. After a week of sobriety I went back out to try it my way again. I had to drink a little while longer to see that my way of not drinking was about as effective as slamming my head against a wall to avoid pain- it just didn't work. The six weeks between picking up my first white chip and picking up the second hold some of the worst, most humiliating, self-abasing moments I have ever experienced in my entire life. It was as though all of my most terrible drunks over the course of twenty years had been gathered up into some kind of sick collage and dumped into those six weeks. It was torturous. The guilt, the remorse, the shame, the self loathing- all of it hit me with force that was tenfold from anything I had endured before. My drinking had escalated at such an alarming rate in that short span of time that it morphed from self-destruction to complete and total annihilation. The gravity of what I was doing did not occur to me then, but now I'm astonished by the fact that I came out on the other side of all of that without killing someone, going to jail, or at the very least, losing my job. It's a freaking miracle that I got through that crap inflicting as little damage as I did.

When I reflect on who I was and where I was a year ago, it's difficult to associate the me now with the me then. Was that really me? That walking disaster hidden inside an empty, fragile shell? Was that Alcoholic mess my life? Wow! Really? Mind blowing stuff.

The changes I am experiencing through sobriety are so extraordinary and dramatic. Night and day. Oil and water. These describe perfectly the difference of my life- now and then. It is such a startling contrast that it's hard for me to associate the two lives as belonging to one. I am in awe over how much better my life is without alcohol- I am truly amazed.

All of the things that I've always wanted and thought I would never obtain are slowly becoming noticeable traits- things like self-respect and self-worth. I'm finding things I once thought were lost forever- things like dignity and purpose. So many things siphoned off by my drinking are returning, flowing back into my life filling up the emptiness.

Everyday that I am sober is a new day- everyday is different. Today is not just another day and it is nothing like yesterday. There is a vibrancy to my life now. Moments have textures that I can touch and feel. My life has become something solid and I am alive and engaged. I am alive and I can feel and I can be and I can breathe and I am aware, so very aware.

It is such a relief to be sober. It is such a relief to know that I don't ever have to endure the kind of pain I caused myself in that other life. I am so grateful to no longer be enslaved by alcohol. I am so grateful to be sober.

Alone with My Fears and Lots of Alcohol

I was thinking about some of my drunks earlier and came to the conclusion that my most humiliating moments of my drunkenness happened when I was alone. Yep, my worst moments involved sitting in seclusion, fuming or fearful about something, and binge drinking. What I did to myself...just absolutely pitiful and sad. I’ve got a few dozen incidents that happened while amidst friends and family, out and about at a party or one of the local bars when I was falling over drunk, acting completely obnoxious, starting fights, passed out in the bathroom, puking in the parking lot or in the middle of the road or out the car window, having to be carried to the car, waking up on someones lawn, told to leave the establishment, etc.; yeah, I’ve got all of those. But those memories, while definitely embarrassing, don’t produce the same horrific, crawl under a rock kind of feelings that the stuff I did when nobody else was around does. I cannot bring up those memories without wanting to cringe- if I hold them in my minds eye for too long I become physically ill. 

I didn't want people knowing what my life was like behind closed doors. I didn't want them to see what I was doing to myself- my drinking and self-abuse and self-hate were private. I was disgusted by my drinking and yet I loved it. Deep down I knew I had a sickness, but it was my sickness. Maybe I was afraid someone might tell me to stop if they knew just how bad it was. Up until the very end, I was able to keep my alcoholism hidden from pretty much everyone who knew me. The only ones who had seen the mess visible through the cracks were my two ex-husbands. Although, about two months before I hit bottom my one, and I mean one and only, close friend had been introduced to a couple of instances of troubling behavior of mine; one of which she suggested I may want to think about laying off the booze. And, I’m sure my boss suspected something was going seriously awry towards the end. I thought I was successful at hiding my problem from my boss, but how many times can you call in leaving a voicemail at 3 or 4 in the morning, slurring heavily as you claimed to be sick? How many mornings can you show up at work looking like total dog crap, eyes bloodshot, face ruddy red, and the lingering scent of booze popping out of your pores without your boss seeing you for what you are? I just barely squeaked by not getting fired the last two years for excessive call in’s. Both years, letters were sent home (like the ones for mommy from grade school) assuring me that I would be terminated for one more unexcused absence. What’s sad is that I was never like that before- I was always responsible and respectful when it came to my job. I rarely ever called in; that is, until my progression began making that free fall descent straight down toward the depths of nothingness. At that point, all bets were off.

HALT- A Defense Against Picking Up

H(ungry) A(ngry) L(onely) T(ired)

Within my first few days of sobriety I heard this slogan in the rooms. It would prove to be of tremendous help in halting my insatiable desire to drink.  It describes four main components of physical and emotional distress, of which I discovered, were definitely triggers for me and ignoring their warning signs contributed to my decision to pick up a drink.

It was suggested to think about HALT whenever I thought I needed a drink. Sure enough, I found that whenever one of these states tried to creep up toward the surface, my impulse to drink kicked in. If I was hungry, I would tell myself that eating would ruin my drinking. If I was tired, drinking would keep me awake. If I was angry or lonely, well I was most certainly going to drink over that- how else was I going to suppress my anger or deny my loneliness?! Drinking is what I knew! 

I had developed an automatic response to drink over normal, everyday aspects of human existence. Instead of addressing the need to take care of myself by eating or sleeping, my unconscious mind was conditioned to drink. I had become a damn robot! It was disturbing to find that there wasn’t much of a thought process between my body or mind sensing one of these states and picking up a drink. HALT comes to my defense when I put it between me and a drink.

Awareness is a very powerful tool. By using the awareness I obtained about my compulsion to drink through HALT, I was able to begin to alter the ways in which I addressed the big bad triggers: hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. For the first time, there was a speed bump between sensing the want, the need to drink and actually picking up. I found that HALT replaced my reaction of thoughtlessly going through the motions to one of pause and contemplation. My working of the HALT method went something like this:

A Life with Alcohol was the Only Life I Knew

Through working the steps, I am finally beginning to acknowledge behaviors and thought processes which no longer serve my best interests. I am becoming aware of how, over the years, certain circumstances have triggered negative, unconscious reactions based on experiences from the past. I am beginning to see that some of my behaviors, conditioned by past elements, have somehow attracted the same the same problems into my life over and over. It is only through sobriety that I am learning alternate solutions to problems that have always seemed to plague me and to recognize the behaviors and thoughts which act to thwart my progress.

When I was drinking, I worked so hard to suppress my potential. I had constructed so many obstacles and limitations to happiness and success that any attempt to move beyond them was futile. Each time I attempted to move forward was carried out in the same ways that moved me back again. Alcohol was the barrier between the life I was stuck in and the life I truly wanted. There was nothing desirable about the way that I was living. Alcohol kept me in the place I did not want to be and prevented me from anything worthwhile.

The funny thing is, although I knew my existence was miserable, I did not realize the full extent of just how miserable I really was. I knew that I had a drinking problem, but I it was beyond my belief and awareness that alcohol was playing as big a part in the misery and the difficulties that pervaded my life as much as it did. And how could I know? How could I truly grasp the whole picture when I was standing to close to see the full frame? My alcohol use defined what I did, how I did it, how I thought, how I reacted- it touched every aspect: from the most important down the most insignificant. Alcohol was how I lived- I didn’t know anything else. I had no other way of life to compare it to or to provide contrast. Sobriety has given me that contrast and the differences are glaring, night and day. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to see that there is another way for me to live- I don’t have to be miserable.

Moving Beyond the Pain of the Past

As I bring up chunks of my past to examine and compare, I can see patterns of painful situations that have manifested in my life over and over again. I can see that drinking kept me in states of ill-emotional health. They say sick attracts sick and it looks as though that can definitely be applied to my life- not just my relationships with others, but many other facets and circumstances. Drinking kept me sick. I was destined to repeat the cycle of events that began way back, ironically, all the way back to around the time I picked up my first drink and discovered its ability to put a barrier between my thoughts and feelings and the upheaval that was going on around me.

In my young, naive, and impressionable mind alcohol seemed to elevate me up and away from all of the pain and confusion I was faced with; all of the circumstances created by the adults who were supposed to protect me; all of the events that had been put into motion that I could not control; so many things that were absolutely terrifying for a fifteen year old girl.

What seemed to work at fifteen, didn't work so well by the time I turned thirty. What began as a way to escape and cope (at fifteen that was really all I knew to do) ended as a prison situated deep down in the darkest recesses imaginable. Between thirty and thirty-four I developed a strong belief that there was no hope for me. I had somehow banished myself for life in a terrible place with no possibility of escape. My spirit totally broken, I surrendered to the downward spiral of my disease and allowed myself to slip beneath the surface of the living. I've heard it said in the rooms, "Alcohol wants to get you alone and then it wants to kill you". That was the tragic story weaving itself through my life. It took awhile, but ever so slowly alcohol had gotten me alone and cornered me in the dark. The final act had commenced; the curtain already making its way down; alcohol waiting patiently for the story to play itself out and come to an end.

Pride or Serenity?

I had to clean up my side of the street today. Keeping my pride in check wasn't easy. It was hard not to start pointing out the trash I saw on the other side of the street. There was a part of me that felt compelled to ask the other person if they were going to pick up all that crap strewn around their feet. I saw it, didn't they see it? If I was cleaning up my side, by golly then I wanted them to clean up their side, too!

That's not how it works, though. I was there to clean up my side- it was about me, it's not about them. I have to allow them to clean up their side when they are good and ready to do so. Every time that voice began it's chattering- yeah, but they did this; yeah, but they said that, but, but, but...I had to remind myself of how it works. I had to accept the possibility that they might not give a damn about the condition of their side of the street, (but they did, a little).

I have to admit: cleaning up didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling right off the bat. That little voice of my fairly large ego was wounded and pretty perturbed not to get his way. He was annoyed that things weren't handle like they used to be handled. My ego ran the show when I drank, now not so much. This morning would have went much differently had I been under the lingering influence of alcohol. I would have not been able to do the right thing. Even if I had not drank since the night before, my thought processes would have continued to be dictated by alcoholic thinking and I would not have had the tools given to me through a program of recovery.

Misery Would Love to Keep Me Company

Apologizing; admitting my mistakes; being honest about the part I played in precipitating and perpetuating a bad situation is humbling. I have had to bare my soul to such an extent that, at times, it feels as though I've flayed it open, tearing out pieces to hold up in my outstretched hands as offerings to those I have wronged. By accepting responsibility for my ill-conceived actions and acknowledging the pain I have caused others, I in effect cut them out- like the rotten bits of fruit, I cut them out. Empty holes like fresh wounds gouged out where the rotten bits used to be. It is uncomfortable for me to be vulnerable. At first it feels like a weakness, but I have to remind myself that it is the right thing to do.  I have to remember that in time all those little holes will heal allowing something better and healthier to grow in the space they once occupied. I must remember that this is a necessary process if I want to welcome and keep serenity in my life. I kept the company of misery for a long time; we know each other very well. I understand that by not going through the process of personal inventory and humbly asking for forgiveness, when it is apparent that I do so, I will once again invite misery to eat at my table and sleep in my bed.

Recovery is showing me the stark reality of what actually happened when I used alcohol as a way to deal with undesirable circumstances and as a way to avoid acknowledging my vulnerability. Using alcohol as a solution was the real weakness. By drinking, I moved away from my humility and my humanity and closer to arrogance and fear. Alcohol helped me to cultivate contempt, plant seeds of fear, and reap the devastating consequences of my ignorance.

Turning It Over

Turning it over, i.e. how to not make a bad situation worse by trying to fix it or control it or by over thinking something so much you go into emotional overload and systematic breakdown; acceptance of something not liked.

Not being in control. Accepting and not trying to change something I don't like. I have to admit: those are toughies for me to overcome. I'm just now beginning to realize the true extent of my need to control and the lengths that I have taken in attempts to get my way. It was a shocking discovery to look at that defect and see it for what it was- what I was. I have always described myself as: nice, kind, honest, unselfish- to name a few. But in recovery, and through sobriety, I now know that the methods I employed to control were: dishonest, cruel, selfish, and superficial. I have come to believe that the only way to change damaging, self-defeating behaviors is to be honest about who I allowed myself to be. Turning it over is an important tool that helps me stay grounded in the reality of what I can and cannot control. It also helps to prevent me from becoming the person I turn into when I try change or control something or someone other than myself.

When I drank, turning it over amounted to turning over thoughts of whatever I was upset about over and over. It amounted to obsessing about situations that were out of my control. I would let all those thoughts churn up in my mind until they were caught up in an unstoppable frenzy. I drove myself to the brink of emotional insanity and my solution, then, was to pick up a drink (well, probably more like 10 or 12 drinks). What a terrible thing to do- add fuel to the fire. That's what drinking did. How I had convinced myself otherwise for all of those years is truly beyond my comprehension at this point.

I'm Not A Loner

I've had a people phobia for a long time. I used to describe myself as a loner. I had convinced myself that being alone was a preference; a choice a made for myself: I choose to be ALONE. If I maintained the thought that I just liked being alone, I would not have to face the fact that I was uncomfortable with me which caused me to be uncomfortable around other people. Really, I was afraid of being around people- it was an actual anxiety inducing fear. Throughout a large part of my twenties I had a stutter. I would become so nervous during a conversation, even a normal, no thrill kind of chat with someone I knew, that I would stutter and mix up my words. The humiliation I felt was incapaciting, so much so that I shyed away from talking very much, especially to new people. It was easier to isolate than it was to feel dejected.

So Serious

I shared at a meeting last night. I don't particularly like to share, but I do it because I know it is instrumental to the success of my recovery. It's part of that, 'going to any lenghts' stuff. Doing things that take me over the edge of my comfort zone and challenge my old thinking patterns is what helps my progress in my recovery.

So I shared. And I when I started out, I wanted to speak with a lightness in the way I was communicating. I don't want to be so damn serious, but that's how it ends up coming out. I listen as some of the old-timers speak about their experiences: they do it with a calmness, a sense of humor; they have a lightness and matter of fact way of sharing. I can't seem to do that. The awareness of how I was living, what I was putting myself through, needlessly, and what I put others through is still so excruciatingly painful. I was miserable beyond words.

When I think back, especially over the last three years of my drinking, a huge, tight ball of sadness bounces in the pit of my stomach. It's still so fresh, like an open wound that hasn't yet scabbed over. During my drinking career and into the first month or so of my sobriety, I remember thinking- it wasn't that bad. But, oh my God, yes it was that bad. Now that I have a way of life to compare it to, to hold it up against, I can see it for what it was and it was much more than bad- it was horrendously tragic.

Maybe one day, I will be able to talk about my experiences without having to be so serious and grave. But maybe, too, the seriousness is good for me. It is a way of keeping it fresh and acknowledging just how bad it really. I am so grateful that I don't have to live that way anymore.

Journaling from May (6 months)

I was looking through some stuff I had written previously and came across this kind of musing I did shortly after my six month mark. I thought it might be a good posting as it has some details on my history. I thought about editing it, but came to the conclusion it might be best left as is. I also had doubt of posting, as I do about any posting, because of my tendency to be overwhelmingly self-critical; thankfully, I am making some progress in that area.

May 7, 2012

I will always be an alcoholic, but I don’t have to be a drunk. There are times when it seems overwhelming difficult to make the choice not to be a drunk, but today I am aware that I DO have a choice. Being sober for six months doesn’t sound like a whole lot of time and compared to the time I spent wasting my life being wasted, it isn’t a whole lot of time; however, it has been enough time to show me that I have a choice, that I am not hopeless, that my life can be meaningful, and that even though I had somehow convinced myself otherwise, I am worthy of happiness.

For years I had a wish for a better life. I wished to respect myself. I wished respect from others. I wished to have confidence. I wished to be successful. I wished to be healthy in mind and body. I wished to have nurturing relationships. I wished that I had the ability to love myself. I tried in so many ways and tried to employ so many methods as attempts to bring my wishes into solid form. I drove myself crazy; desperately reaching, grasping, and running in circles to change what I saw as broken and flawed within myself. I could only get so far before my negative behaviors, traits, and characteristics regained control and I would find myself in similar situations with similar circumstances reacting in the same way even though I wanted to react differently. I felt like such a useless failure. I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t fix myself. I hated that I saw myself repeating the same thing over and over without the ability to prevent it or stop it from happening again. My wishes to be whole seemed unobtainable: an absolute impossibility. With each failed attempt, my self-hatred and hopelessness progressed and so did my alcoholism.

Blessed

I am so unbelievably blessed.

There are moments when that acknowledgement rises to my awareness with such magnitude and force that it just about takes my breath away.

The awareness brings with it a sense of peace and calmness that vibrates from within. I can feel its presence in every fiber of my being. It is truly a transcending experience for me. It is the feeling I was wanting when I picked up a drink. It is the one that eluded me; the one that drinking moved me further and further away from.

In sobriety, I haven't so much as reached for it, as I did when I was drinking, as much as I have made space for it. I am allowing a place for it to reside; a place that didn't exist when I was drinking. I am able to open the door of my life and welcome it as an honor guest. It isn't always amplified, but it does linger in the background just inside my consciousness and it is more amazing than I could have ever guessed.

It is something you must experience for yourself, but if you want it, if you are gentle and have patience, if you have faith and believe, then it will happen.

Time is Not Passing Me By

It is August and I thought about something that had happened by in January. When I look back over the last nine months I become keenly aware of the time that has passed. It seems like such a long stretch and I can focus on each month, one at a time, and make a mental list of situations that transpired, events I participated in, conversations I've had, and other general happenings.

When I was drinking, when I think back to that time, months and years are a blur. When I try to focus on something that happened at a particular time, it seems to be tied to drinking. Three days, three weeks, three years- it was all the same. Time was irrelevant to me back then. I didn't keep track of it; possibly because I was either drunk or hungover and it turned into something not so memorable. Oh, I was drunk that night. Oh, I missed out on that because I had a hangover.

I love my life right now. I am actually living it where before I was merely existing. I was drinking (or getting high) and that is what mattered. I cannot believe all of the time I wasted being wasted. As a friend in the rooms says, "Everyday was the same. Everyday ended the same way. Nothing new was going to happen. Nothing exciting or wonderful was going to happen to me as long as I was drinking."

When I Discovered I Wasn't Alone

My sobriety date is October 30, 2011. I picked up my second white chip that day and I am so grateful that I have not had to pick up a third...yet.

I'm not sure that there is anyone who, in the beginning, wholeheartedly wanted to attend a 12-Step program. I didn't. I knew that I should go and that I needed to go, but I didn't want to have to go. Walking through those doors and taking a seat meant total and absolute defeat. It signified an immeasurable weakness that I feared would define me like a hideous mask that I would not be able to remove- everyone would see it; everyone would know.

I also knew that I was an alcoholic. I knew that I had a problem. A problem I could not figure out how to fix or solve on my own. I wanted so badly to fix it: to control my drinking, to get a handle on it, to prove that I wasn't an alcoholic, and that I could drink normally like all the other 'normal' people. I was a survivor, why couldn't I beat this thing? I thought that I had overcome so much trauma and adversity in my life and this one thing kept getting the better of me- I could not control it. In fact, the more I tried to control my drinking the more I drank.

It was a devastating blow to my ego, to the resilient and invincible person I tried to convince myself and everyone else that I was, to have to ask for help. And it wasn't that I was just asking for help, but begging for it. I was so desperate that I was begging for help from a roomful of strangers. I thought I had reached the definitive depiction of shame and humiliation. It was unnerving; it made physically ill to have to sit there and admit, out loud, to myself and these other people that I was an alcoholic and I couldn't solve my drinking problem.

Life Expanded

Expansion. What a great word. Expansion. Expanding. Expanded. Expand. It is one of the many words that describes my life right now.

Merriam-Webster defines expand as
1) to open up: unfold
2) to increase the extent, number, volume, or scope of: enlarge

It is humbling to be able to look back at my life when I was drinking and compare it to how my life is now. I can hold them up side by side like charts or a split screen and clearly see the glaring differences. I look back and I see just how limited my life had become. My world had become so very small and my existence, now seems, practically irrelevant. As my alcoholism progressed the smaller my world became until I finally found myself strangled by its grip and gasping for breath.

Being sober is giving me the opportunity to experience how it feels to expand; to experience the state of expansion. I can feel it rising from within my existence and overflowing into my outer life expanding my world. The progression of my sobriety is happening much faster than the progression of my disease. The distance between then and now seems light years away and yet I know it is important to keep what my life was like then very close. As my life expands, I must remember what it felt like when I couldn't breathe. I must remember that picking up will only serve to put me right back where I don't want to be; one drink will take me right back to that small world where I cannot breathe and it feels way to good to be able to breathe.

I am thankful to be where I am right now and grateful to know that I don't ever have to feel that way again.