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...