Shortcomings

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Grabbing Ahold

December 7, 2009 in Gratitude, Resentment by Chris | 8 comments

“I wish I was smarter.  I wish I was stronger.”   Patty Griffin

It brings me no comfort knowing I’m in a position I’ve been in before; hopeless, out of answers, hurting and not knowing why.  And I am frightened to find that at nearly three years sober, the longest I have been sober since I was 14 years old, my brain is up to the same old tricks that have always ended every period of sobriety I’ve ever reached for in the past.  I recognized that whatever was wrong was seriously wrong when I was sitting in the airport in Phoenix, coming home from another failed attempt to find love, and I found myself crying, listening to the Carpenters and googling “what’s the best way to kill yourself?“

I don’t need a reason to die, I thought.  I need a reason to live.  I have all the reasons to die I need.  The recovery in me kept arguing, “this isn’t normal.  You need help, kid.  What about your family?  What about your friends?  Do you have any idea what this would do to them?”

“Yeah,” I replied inside my head.  “They’ll get over it.” Read the rest of this entry »

Fair Trade Economics – or Greed and Will Power and Luxury Sheets

August 22, 2009 in Greed, Honesty, Humility, Resentment by Chris | 5 comments

wifThere are natural limits on what I can compute on greed and will power alone, as I have said before, but greed and will power are my constant companions in the marketplace.  I may be able to set them aside to some degree with respect to my disease and, to a lesser extent, with other alcoholics/addicts, but the fact remains that greed and will power still color virtually everything I do.

Such was the case last night when my sponsor and I went to the Western Idaho State Fair, though I could not have known it at the time.

We went through the livestock exhibits where several of his grandchildren had won ribbons for various things; rabbits, geese, ducks, pygmy goats and the like.  We spent some time with his daughter, the most inspirational, funny, and kind person you could hope to meet and who, though she was born without legs, has never allowed herself to be limited by what other people think she should be able to do.  We ate funnel cakes and corn dogs and wandered the midway where we enjoyed the eye candy and not the rides. We looked at quilts and photographs and tatting in the exhibition hall.  And in another hall we came upon a booth selling 650 thread count egyptian cotton sheet sets – for $20.

Now, first let me let you in on a little secret.  There is this boy coming to visit; this boy I’ve never met but whose voice I love, and whose sense of humor I love, and who’s quirky perspective on all things I find are either endearing or happens to match my own.  This is a rare, rare boy, indeed and though I’ve “known” him through gay.com and facebook on and off for 8 years or so, we’ve never met.  Secondly, you remember that, with one rather short and doomed exception, I haven’t dated anyone seriously for 16 years.  Oh, I know there was the “felationship” with the “IFX” – the imaginary future ex-husband.  We’re not counting that at all.  That was merely an episode of loneliness and desperation – the kind that any serious addiction is bound to lead to.

I could go on and on, but I’m sure you get the picture.  I want this guy to like me, and I think he wants to like me, too, because last week we decided that going on the way we have been is pointless.  We should see if there is something more there.  We should conduct a chemistry experiment.  He bought a plane ticket.  He’ll be here on Friday.  I am excited, and happy and  I am in a low grade panic.

So I want him to be comfortable in my house and I most especially want him to be comfortable in my bed.  When I walked by the booth at the fair with the sheets all I could think was, “Oh my God!  That’s 250 higher thread count than I have now.  I MUST HAVE THESE!”

Now, I’m not an idiot.  I know perfectly well that you cannot sell 650 ct. Egyptian cotton sheet sets for $20.  I know that is not really possible.  And yet I bought a set.  And guess what.  Not only are they not 650 ct., but they AREN’T EVEN COTTON!!!!  The entire package is a LIE.  And I should have known this going in.  On some level I must have known it.  But greed and will power are funny things, and I can hardly blame myself for being suckered in because while I bought one set, my sponsor bought three!!

When I sat down to write this I was still so mad that I wanted to go back to the fair and taser the guy who sold me the 180 thread count microfiber sheets right square in the nuts.

But I feel better now.  I’ve taken a look at where I was wrong.  I’ve admitted to myself and to you that I made a decision based on selfishness and greed – and to some extent fear, and while I haven’t harmed anyone but myself, I am willing to live with the consequences of my action.

I’m also willing to go to Dillard’s later and buy some fantastic sheets, so maybe I haven’t changed that much after all.

Resentment is the Number One Offender

August 20, 2009 in Resentment by Chris | 1 comment

To read more about how anger and resentment affect decision making in people, and therefor why it is fatal in addicts, I recommend “Portrait of the Angry Decision Maker” by Jennifer S. Lerner and Larissa Z. Tiedens.

A Speedy Reply

July 17, 2009 in Perseverance, Resentment, Roommates by Chris | 7 comments

Downtown_BoiseTo say that things at home have been tense is something of an understatement.  One of the roommates has some pretty execrable behavior involving other people that I have grown very tired of.  To paraphrase Elvis, a little less drama and a little more action, seem to be in order, yet there is very little hope of that happening.  I got dragged into the drama the other day and I feel I am owed an apology, and there is less hope of that.

My friend Nikki had assured me of the power of prayer and shared a recent experience with asking for divine help and receiving it.  As I sat on my front porch in the morning a couple of days ago I thought of what Nikki told me and thought perhaps I’d try it again.  I thought I’d ask for guidance in this situation.  I came inside, logged on to facebook and there was an email from a friend, sent to a good number of people, looking for a new roommate, fast.

Miss Marie lives in a very charming, newer house, not far away, with her 2 cats, and as she works in Los Angeles for months at a time, she needs someone whom she trusts her home and her cats to. I immediately sent an email.  “Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!”

I know Miss Marie through a mutual friend who has seen me through the worst of my addiction and through all of my recovery so I know she has had access to the unvarnished truth about me, but to be sure I shared the information that could give a sensible person pause.  Knowing all that, she didn’t hesitate for a moment.  She thought, as did I, that it would do both of us good.

My probation officer didn’t hesitate either, which is good news.  Miss Marie’s job starts back up the first week of August and I’ll be moving in on the 1st.  We’ll have a couple of days together for me to learn the routine and then I’ll have a few weeks of utter peace.  It is an extraordinary balance of accountability to another, which I find very motivating, and solitude, which I also treasure.

And all placed in my path 5 minutes after praying for guidance in the living situation.

Though I have no conception of “Higher Power” beyond “bigger than I can understand,” perhaps I’d do well to pray more.

A Sinner Among the Saints

June 23, 2009 in Acceptance, Faith, Integrity, Resentment, Spirituality by Chris | 6 comments

It is so strange, and so strange that it is comforting to be again in the company of my family and among people who share my religious heritage. The Church (of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints – the Mormons) take a very dim view of homosexuality and of drug addiction. Now that the addiction part is under control, and now that my father and I have both worked very hard to heal our relationship, I’m a part of this gigantic clan again.

I have a cousin, Nicholas, who I’ve hung out with a little bit, who only ever knew my name before, not my face, and he knew that my name was always attached to trouble or heartache. “THAT Cousin Chris” is what he calls me. The younger ones figure out who I am and their eyes widen briefly. The little kids, and there are a dozen of them, all think I’m great. I think I’m just better adapted to talk to little children.

Another cousin of mine, Nate, was 6 years old when I effectively left the family. Now he’s a giant man with several children of his own, a wonderful wife, and a really cool job in Washington D. C. that affords him a ringside view of our government. (He really likes Barney Frank, whom he knows personally, and he also really likes Larry Craig, whom he knows personally, and wishes Larry would “just come out already.”) We are polar opposites, politically, but because he came by his beliefs through work and reason (as opposed to being brainwashed by talk radio and Fox News) we are actually closer than one might imagine, and honestly I think he’s really cool.

Being around these people, being in this environment, is so comfortable, and I’m only slightly ill at ease with that. I have some anger about what the LDS church has done to my tribe. I’m even more angry that members of my own family share the political view that prompted church members in Utah (mostly) to pump $40 million into California to pass Proposition 8. I don’t understand how people who love me, who claim to want the best for me, could possibly believe that a world where inequality is the law is morally right. I don’t want to be married in their temple. I am happy to live in a country where they are permitted to practice the religion of their conscience, and I believe in protecting freedom of religion. Freedom of religion is one of the civil rights that our country is built on. Equal protection under the law is another of the ideas that our country is supposed to be built on and until I am truly offered equal protection I will not really be one of them – one among my own people.

So I’m part of our family – but not a full part. Here, in this place I love, among people I love, I am considered to be an inferior.

I’m no closer to coming to believe that “a power greater than myself” is appropriate to turn my “will and life” over to the care of. I still think that “Higher Power” is an unconscious, impersonal, greater good –indifferent to my personal circumstance–the law of cause and effect if you will; cause and effect in a system too large for me to grasp. Perhaps if I were omniscient I could understand all of what has happened and what continues to happen. At the moment the power, I think, resides with me and within the group, and in my relationship with my sponsor. I refuse to concede that the Higher Power resides with and favors the saints and not the sinners –no matter what they believe.

Accountability

April 7, 2009 in early recovery from smoking, Resentment, Roommates, Sponsorship by Chris | 4 comments

I suppose I could place some of the blame on the fact that I hadn’t had any nicotine.  This is day 18 without cigarettes.  At 3PM I still hadn’t had a lozenge.  It was not model behavior either, but nothing else was breaking in.  So when the dog crap had sat on the dining room floor since at least 7:30AM, when I got up, and the dog owner had made no attempt to remedy the problem, I grabbed a paper towel and threw the shit in his bedroom at him.

He silently got up and cleaned the crap up and retired to his room. (Time for a lozenge, I thought.  Clearly I’m not my charming self.)

I also had my monthly visit with my probation officer today.  I knew she had stopped by the house while I was at the vet last Sunday because Joe told me.  What he told me was that she had asked him if he was on drugs.  So when I went to visit Officer. J. B. today the first thing she said to me was, “So, I met your roommate.”  This woman has the authority to place me in jail for as long as a year without even taking me in front of a judge.  There is no way I am going to lie to or withhold information from her, particularly to save someone else’s skin.   After I told her exactly what has been going on, she asked me why I hadn’t called Joe’s probation officer.  I don’t really have a good answer for that, except that I had hoped that Joe would do the right thing and handle it himself.  I told her that keeping my street clean meant for sure telling her what is going on in my house.  What she chooses to do with that is not my responsibility.  I am accountable to her.

She said she was accountable, too, and that the law requires her to call Joe’s probation officer, which she did, while I was still sitting there.

She was very clear with me about what kind of people could be at my house and what kind of behavior she expects from me.  She was very clear about what kind of environment I am to be in, whether it is in my control or not.   I am not willing to go to jail because someone else won’t behave the way he agreed to behave and I will not live with dog shit on the floor because someone else won’t behave the way he agreed to behave.

I feel stupid for having moved.  And really, how arrogant am I to think that being around me could be a good influence on anyone?

Of course after I threw the dog shit I called my sponsor and had quite a chat.  I started by telling him what I’d done.  (He replied, “Good.”)  And after the probation office visit I called, as he suggested I do, and told him what was up.

It’s clear I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t believe, and my sponsor doesn’t believe, I’ve harmed anyone.  Rather I’m the one being harmed, and I placed myself in this position.

It’s time to figure out how to place myself out of it.

Smoke Free Day 16 and Other Matters of Living in Recovery

April 5, 2009 in Courage, early recovery from smoking, Resentment, Roommates, Service, Sponsorship, Willingness by Chris | 6 comments

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.

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