Much Better!!!

Wow.  I’m glad that’s over with.  Now aside from burping up fish oil, which, if you’ve never experienced it, I really think you need to, and the minor annoyance of 14,000 people trying to cure breast cancer blocking the road to my aunt’s house, I am feeling like myself again.

I don’t often have episodes like yesterday.  Actually I’ve never had that specific kind of episode.  But there are others.  There are times when I feel overwhelmed.  There are times when I seem to notice everywhere I go I travel past somewhere I used drugs, bought drugs, sold drugs, suffered the consequences of my drug use.  There are times when I experience new and uncomfortable knowledge of the extent of the unmanagability of my life and my powerlessness over mind and mood altering substances and behavior.  I don’t often have episodes like yesterday anymore, so when I do it is incredibly disconcerting.  I think I should be better now.  I seem to suffer from the delusion that “restored to sanity” means I never experience the symptoms rather than that when I am symptomatic I have a solution.

I’ve heard over and over, and it’s been my experience, that mistaking remission for cured precedes a return to active addiction.  People stop going to meetings and stop carrying the message.  They stop working with other alcoholics and addicts.  It’s easy to see that brushing your teeth once doesn’t keep them clean forever.  Practicing the principles of the program in all my affairs is ‘mental floss’.  It keeps the decay at bay.

There are areas of my life, one area in particular that I haven’t written about yet at all, that are troublesome right now.  Since writing has been the most important tool I have for shedding light on my flaws and promoting healing, I know I’m going to have to start writing on the mystery topic soon.  There is one thing out in the world I need to do first before I dare start writing, since an occasional reader is directly impacted by this problem and deserves to be addressed directly, and I plan to take care of that on Monday.

So, oh, barf!  Fish oil, again.   I have no more control over burping fish oil than I have over any other part of my life.  I do these things, fish oil, recovery, that are good for me because the benefits outweigh the discomfort.  I care enough about me to do it.

My mother, on the other hand, I’m torn about.  I haven’t spoken to her in over a year.  Last Mother’s Day I called and left her a message.  My sister had her on the phone at the time so I went straight to voice mail.  It’s a brilliant strategy, actually.  But I wonder if I shouldn’t drop by her house tomorrow with a card and some flowers.  Just so she knows that I actually do think about her and that I actually do care, even if I’m not willing at the moment to be involved in her life or to have her involved in mine at the moment.  I need to write about that some and talk to my family and my sponsor.  And pray.