Change for the Better

The first day I was on Ritilin I took it as prescribed.

Yuck. Did the trick in terms of attention and focus, sense of well being, etc., but it had the unfortunate and uncomfortable side effect of making me feel like I’d been high. The good news is that it was an intensely uncomfortable feeling. I saw my sponsor that night. He’s taken Ritilin before, and suggested that I cut the dose in half or 3/4, both simple changes since the tablets are scored.

Yesterday I tried the lower dose. I’m really glad that I didn’t notice any of that coming down edge that was so disturbing, yet it was enough to achieve the intended effect. I realized that I have to treat this as I treat mouthwash (which can get me drunk), or hot dog buns (which smell like beer).

The book promises that we alcoholics and addicts can do all kinds of things that we’re not supposed to be able to do, provided that we have a good reason to and that we are in fit spiritual condition. Mindfulness, honesty, and willingness go a long way toward maintaining that fitness.

I’ve often wondered if I would ever become spiritually fit enough to get the hell out of Boise and move somewhere that I have some hope of finding long-term intimate companionship; the kind of relationship that I believe most, if not all of us, were created to have. I feel certain that there are rooms and gardens of the human character that remain closed or undiscovered in the absence of another - darkness within us that can only be illuminated by another. And not that I want to imply that HP is limited in any way, or couldn’t or wouldn’t provide an avenue for that to happen here in Boise, but let’s be honest, the demographics are not really in my favor.

I’ve actually become pretty comfortable living and being in the world and in my community as it is, instead of the way I’d like it to be.  Que sera, sera. My friend Owen always says, “If you want to know what God’s will is, look around.” For the last 8 years or so I’ve had this fantasy of moving back to West Hollywood, though, and one of the reasons I haven’t entertained the idea very seriously is the level of temptation there. I realize the book talks about the Greenland ice cap and Eskimos bearing akvavit, and it has been my experience that I can find anything here as easily as I could anywhere else.

Except for Marc O., whom I have regarded as an anomaly, I have questioned whether guys like me get and stay sober. Well I ran into someone I used to know in West Hollywood in the early 80s, on Facebook. He’s possibly the only living link to that time for me. God only knows why I remembered him among all the people who came through my life at that time, but I did.  And he’s been sober for over 14 years. He sent me an email that said, “If you want to know what happy, joyous, and free looks like around here take a look at my photo album.”

It looks wonderful. It looks like home.

The Department of Corrections will likely not let me move for another 3-1/2 years, but that may just be the right ammount of time to get really secure in my own recovery, and perhaps enough time to start connecting with other recovering men there by electronic means.  Maybe going back is not as impossible and not as dangerous as I’ve thought.  That would be cool.