First, I want to say how important blogging has been to my recovery. If I hadn’t had a place where I could just bleed and be supported, I don’t know if I would have been able to stay sober. It might have been different if I’d lived in a larger city; somewhere that there was a larger LGBT recovery community. But I don’t. I live in the Great Redneck Desert deep in the heart of Jesusland. So to no longer be able to write–to have something blocking me from doing it–has been an exceptionally painful experience. But it’s been about 10 months now and I think I’m ready to say what happened. Read the rest of this entry »
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“Many of us needed an overhauling there. But above all, we tried to be sensible on this question. It’s so easy to get way off the track.” Alcoholics Anonymous, Page 69
And some of us more than others, apparently. After taking a good, long time off from any semblance of serious dating, dating with the intention of finding a Lifetime Companion, I find that regardless of the work I have done, my “picker” is still broken. I still find myself attracted to the sickest of the sick. If it is true that water seeks it’s own level that isn’t saying much about my progress, is it? Luckily I’ve been buoyant enough to bounce happily right out of the last debacle.
In the part of the Big Book that discusses our Sex Inventory we find the word “ideal” or “ideals” mentioned five times; five times in four paragraphs.
- In this way we tried to shape a sane and sound ideal for our future sex life.
- We asked God to mold our ideals and help us to live up to them.
- Whatever our ideal turns out to be, we must be willing to grow toward it.
- Suppose we fall short of the chosen ideal and stumble?
- We earnestly pray for the right ideal, for guidance in each questionable situation, for sanity, and for the strength to do the right thing. Read the rest of this entry »
I bought a book the other day, right after I vomited my insanity here; Mindfulness in Plain English. And I’m encouraged because I finally found a definition of ‘faith’ that I can work with. No GrandWizardMagicalSantaClaus required. What a relief. I have some nice, plainly written instructions to make a beginning, and then there are retreats, with advanced instructors.
Reading the course application, I wonder if I could even do it at this point, but I believe I could get there.
I am also considering getting rid of my television and limiting my internet time just to help reduce the amount of noise in my head. My sense is that television interferes with my ability to think clearly and hinders my growth.
I’m headed to Atlanta, ID with my sponsor tomorrow afternoon to enjoy 3 days in the mountains without indoor plumbing, electricity, paved roads or telephones.
I appreciate all the feedback I got from my last post. Looking back I can see that this is really an issue that I’ve held on to for decades. The appearance of an old friend from when I lived in Sweden reminded me that there was a time even then that I was desperate for there to be something I could have real faith in, and being surrounded by a religion that made no sense to me at all.
It appears then that it is in my nature to yearn for an understanding of or knowledge of something that I can only understand or know through my own experience. Faith that makes sense to me isn’t belief in something because it is written in some book. It is belief in something because I have observed it within myself. If I’m going to have a relationship with that I have a great deal of observing within myself to do.
A.
Atheist.
Two and a half years sober and I find myself so fucked off about the conception of god that I got sober with that I can’t live joyfully. In all likelihood I just haven’t given myself enough time to heal or something but at the moment it seems like the “power” that got me sober was an episode of magical thinking from which I have been medically released.
I’m two months out of surgery and I’m still in so much pain that I think I need to go back to the doctor. I’ve tried taking a friend’s Neurontin and it had no effect on the pain.
If there is no god then I must have had the power to get sober all along. I must not have known how to access or use that power but it must have always been there.
My sponsor suggested that I go to as many meetings in a row as I am able to until I believe again and I’ve been doing that – 2 or 3 meetings a day. All I really hear is some really soft thinking and bad logic.
Oddly, none of that means that I think that AA doesn’t work. It obviously worked for me, and I don’t think that not believing in god anymore should be too much of a hindrance. There are all kinds of higher powers I believe in. One of those is that groups can accomplish more than individuals.
I’m just tired of feeling like I’m supposed to believe in god to stay sober and tired of trying to make the magical thinking return.
(I just watched a TV commercial where the governor of Idaho said that meth “leaves a tattoo on your brain.” Seriously. )
“You’re out there walking down the highway and all of the signs have been blown away. Sometimes you wonder if you’re walking in the wrong direction.” -Patty Griffin
Someone else’s experience and writing are much better than my own this morning so I’m sharing an email.
“did you ever see “planes, trains & automobiles?” the scene where candy & martin are driving down the highway and the woman is screaming “You’re going the wrong way!” and they look at each other and say “How does she know where we’re going?” and laugh – my favorite nearly of all time.
not meaning to make light of your journey. surety is so attractive, eh? not ever having to question anything, totally believe. of course they pulled down all of the signs – you don’t need signs when you have surety.
i grew up in a different version of surety world. no signs, no different, no questions. just lots and lots of answers. unfortunately they were to questions i wasn’t asking. but the surety sure felt safe because we were the ones with THE TRUTH, we were the ones who were RIGHT – i’ve come in contact with so many of those who loved me back then, and when they find out that i no longer think surety is the best answer they drop me like a hot potato. as long as they think they can influence me back into the camp they continue to proselytize me, but once i let them know that surety isn’t my religion of choice anymore they move on to the next.
not meaning to read my story into yours – i just heard the words you wrote in my own story and realized that no, most of those people don’t really know where i’m going either. i don’t want their small angry god or their exclusive club that leaves out so many – even if i can wrap myself in the blanket of their faith again and feel all warm, snugly and like i don’t have to think any more.”
My clan accepts me no matter what. They share their world with me no matter what, but they would dearly love for me to return to the fold. The invitations are few and carefully chosen, but the intent is the same. I’m grateful that they accept me no matter what. Helps me forget how angry I am with their church.
But until it does I cry myself to sleep every night. (This too shall pass.) In the daytime and around people I pretend everything is okay – that I’m getting better; and I suppose I am, but I did not expect to be this sick for this long. I did not expect that all I could accomplish in a day would be to walk around a couple of blocks and take a shower, take a nap, and watch a movie. I had to give up Stella and I don’t actually miss her but I miss Gracie like I can’t believe.
I’ve managed to avoid the pain-killers entirely for the last couple of days, but that has just meant that I’m in more pain. (This too shall pass.)
I’ve been having this internal argument about smoking cessation with nicotine replacement therapy. Namely, in quitting smoking I’m really quitting 2 different addictions; smoking addiction and nicotine addiction. I have picked up a cigarette only twice in the last 16 days, and that has been made rather easy by the fact that my nicotine addiction is still being fed by other means (Commit Lozenges).
The thing about NRT (nicotine replacement therapy) is that when the nicotine starts to wear off, my brain reads that feeling as a que to light up. Since I haven’t been picking up cigarettes I’ve wondered if it wouldn’t be smarter to stop the NRT as well. I know the physical withdrawal from nicotine is less than a week long. Why not just be done with all of it. I’m not that afraid of the discomfort at this point.
People who know better, people who study this sort of thing, though, all seem to agree that the key is to use NRT in high enough doses for long enough to achieve the best chance of success at giving up both. When people who knew something about getting off of drugs suggested how I might solve the problem I had the same battle. There were some people who I believed in and some people who I didn’t. Ultimately I had to be true to myself and embrace the path that spoke to my heart. For now I’m going to continue doing what is supported by science, even though I have different ideas.
I’m less clear about other things. I’m less clear about what to do with Joe, who is still not leaving his room unless he absolutely has to. There is a slew of things I am frustrated or angry about, starting with his lack of participation in his own life and his failure to care for his dog. Jake and I both got to clean up uriine yesterday because Pepper would rather pee in our bathrooms than let us know she needs to go out, and Joe can’t be counted on to make sure she’s going out.
Joe is still unwilling to be honest with those who are best equipped to help him, including his doctor and probation officer. I believe he has convinced himself he is sick. I don’t know that a 4 day relapse takes three weeks and counting to recover from. Even if I add the flu that I had on top of it he is long overdue to be getting up and doing something.
The other day ne needed a ride to see his probation officer and he appeared to still be ill. He asked if I would give him a ride and I agreed. I took 3 hours off work so I could do that. I drove him the 15 or so round-trip miles. As we were pulling in to the parking lot he uttered the first words I’d heard him say that day. “This is going to suck.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “This is going to suck.” I though he meant it would suck because he was going to be honest with her. When he came out of the probation office, he asked if I was going to work on Monday because he forgot to bring his money to pay her.
I asked him how it went when he told her what was going on, and he told me he didn’t; that he had no intention of doing that.
He hasn’t thanked me for spending billable hours to help him and he hasn’t been honest, and he complained that this meeting was going to suck because he doesn’t enjoy going to see this authority figure that he placed himself in the position of having to go see. So I told him that I wasn’t available on Monday, that until he started being honest with his doctor and his P. O. and until he learned a little bit of gratitude that I didn’t think there was much hope that his life was ever going to be different. I reminded him that when I got sober I had all the same obligations that he had, except that for a short time I didn’t even have a roof over my head or transportation, that it was December, and I had managed to get to where I needed to be by walking. In the snow.
I am not going to ask him anymore if he needs anything. In the last week I’ve spent $15 of my cash, $60 in my time off work, 20 miles or so on my car, “helping” him and on balance I don’t feel like I’ve helped him at all. I feel like all I’ve done is allowed him to keep dong what he’s doing. And now I’m resentful because for all those things I’ve given, I haven’t even been granted a simple “thank you.” All I have gotten is the chance to clean dog piss off my bathroom floor twice.
If I could wake him up at 6 in the morning and lock him out of the house, and not let him back in till 6 PM I would do it. I know the program tells me I need to love and help other addicts, but I don’t believe anything I’ve done has helped him. I feel like I’ve been a door mat.
My sponsor is back from San Diego and I haven’t seen him since before I put Gracie down. I’ve got some stuff to go over with him and I’m really looking forward to it.
I don’t want to ride this roller coaster. Think I want to get off, but they buckled me down like it’s the end of the world.” Matt Alber, “End of the World”
This is the end of day 8. I made it through what the smoking cessation people call “Hell Week” and I’m much relieved.
Joe is in the living room, unable to peel himself off the sofa, and, at this exact moment, puking his guts out. I guess in addition to the 2 days he was slamming heroin into his arm, he’s been heavily abusing benzos for a couple of months; not an easy detox. I feel bad for him, but I’m not the one who dangled him over. I’m safely buckled down into a workable routine of “willing to go to any lengths.”
When Jake and I were talking to Joe last week before he left the house and didn’t come home, I asked him if he remembered what detoxing was like, if he remembered being sick on his parent’s sofa for days before he begged them to take him to treatment. He said he didn’t remember.
Honestly, I don’t remember detoxing much either. For meth, detox consists largely of sleeping around the clock and eating everything that isn’t nailed down. But I remember my turning point. I remember the heartbreak. I never yet have gotten too far away from that. Writing about it, and working with others are the key things I can do that keep it clear in my mind.
I want to move really far away from it. I want it to seem unconcionable that I should ever have been there. I’m not convinced you can move that far from a bottom except by knowing exactly where it is.
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