The Last Chance Texaco

Posts Tagged ‘10th Step’

I hear people in meetings all the time say how they do a written 10th step every night.  Honestly, I cannot imagine doing that.  It’s hard enough to find time to do everything else that needs to be done.  But, written or not, I do regularly look back on my day, or my recent past, and look at my motives, and when I am able to, I try to make it right.

The thing is, now that I’ve been sober awhile, it is no longer the really obvious selfish choices that harm others that trip me up; it is the small, ambiguous details.

If I’m dating someone, or thinking of dating someone, when do I tell them about this blog?  Or do I tell them at all?  I can hardly keep some of the details of my past from them, but is it better to hold back on it or to up front with it.  And what if I suspect that I might actually like someone, and become afraid that my history will scare him away.  If I direct him to my story here then, am I not actually depriving him of the opportunity to get to know me, and then decide on his own what he wants to know?  Isn’t that a decision based on fear?

I did that recently.  I tried to scare someone off before he had the chance to decide for himself whether he wanted to be scared off or not.  I did it because I was afraid.  If I was going to be hurt I wanted it to be now instead of later, when it would hurt more.

If a person is curious it isn’t too hard to do a Google search, or go to a library and look in the card catalog for that matter.  There is more than one person with my name in the world, but even so, 8 of the first 10 Google results are me.  If a person wants to know they can.  The only reason for me to direct someone here is either for attention (which I wouldn’t rule out – some of my old stuff is pretty good) or I want to manipulate them into seeing me a particular way.

It’s a very fine line though, isn’t it?  Discerning our motives can be so subtle, and so easy to justify or deny.

In the late 80s and early 90s they were not an uncommon site along the freeways leaving downtown Los Angeles; huge condo projects festooned with banners that read “If you lived here you’d be home now.” When the topic was brought up at a meeting, what are you doing today for your recovery, it’s what I immediately thought of. In the rooms we usually hear the same sentiment described as, “I live in the rooms and visit the world.”

I’m an egomaniac. I like my way better. Read the rest of this entry »

“Learn to let your intuition—gut instinct—tell you when the food, the relationship, the job isn’t good for you (and conversely, when what you’re doing is just right).”
-Oprah Winfrey

I can’t.  I can’t do it.  I couldn’t do it so much that I ditched it and went to a noon meeting, and at that meeting (which was a 12×12 study on the 8th tradition) one of the old, old timers said, “If your job turns your guts inside out, get a new job.”  And my job turns my guts inside out.  I simply cannot make cold calls 8 hours a day and still have enough spiritual energy to devote to the things that really matter to me and to my recovery.  I am simply too beaten up at the end of the day.  I dread going to work.  On Saturday mornings I think to myself, “Oh my God.  I have to go to work Monday morning.”

I feel slightly less anxious about it now but not completely OK.  But I have a plan.  Perhaps an imperfect one, but I have a plan.  I’m headed down to campus right now to apply for admission.  I cannot delay any more.  May as well continue being poor for awhile working toward the goal of solving it rather than being poor and working toward the goal of keeping a roof over my head.

There are a couple of things inside this that I need to take a closer look at.  The first one is my resistance to the job I have.  Is it simply that I hate working?  Do I have some internal spring that will always tell me, no matter what job I have, that I hate my job and I cannot face going to work, much like the addict spring in me goes off no matter what situation I’m in that tells me that it would be great to get high?  The ‘get high’ spring hasn’t gone off in a long, long time so I have faith that any ‘I hate my job’ spring can be repaired to, if I’m willing to do the work.

The other thing for me to look at is, “How much better am I willing for my life to become?”  How much ‘conscious, diligent and purposful action’ will I take to improve my circumstance?

“[K]nowledge of truth alone does not suffice; on the contrary this knowledge must continually be renewed by ceaseless effort, if it is not to be lost.”
-Albert Einstein

They say the road gets narrower, and do you know what? The flippin’ road gets narrower. Aside from the legal issue, there have been things going on in my world that have occupied my attention in the last weeks; things that we learn how to handle by using certain tools in recovery. Using those tools and applying the principles of the program really is relatively simple. Not easy. But simple. When the issues are big, like learning to not pick up and not drink or facing an overwhelming obstacle, it has been relatively easy for me to immediately pick up the tools and use them. But throw me into a meadow of ordinary living and remove the imperative to make ceaseless effort and it doesn’t take long for me to start feeling like a “decroded piece of crap.”

Forgive the tangent, but I’m pretty sure that most of you don’t realize that those of us who grew up in the Intermountain West actually say things like ‘decroded’. We do. It’s true. And Preston, Idaho? The place where Napoleon Dynamite is from? That’s where my family is from, too. In fact my grandfather and great grandfather both graduated from that same high school. My relatives occupy more real estate in the Preston cemetery than any other family. That movie could have been  a documentary as easily as a comedy. It was an LDS version of Gray Gardens. And you know what that means – Napoleon Dynamite should become a Broadway musical!

It is easy to let up on the spiritual program of action and rest on our laurels. We are headed for trouble if we do. Alcoholics Anonymous, page 85

There has just been a cumulative effect of many little things piling up on me recently, coupled with uneven or absent application of effort to ‘expand and enlarge’ my relationship with my Higher Power. I haven’t let up entirely, of course. Dropping everything instantly would require a force of will that I just don’t have. You have to work to fail utterly, but it doesn’t take any effort at all to let one thing slip. And then another. And then another. The slippery slope is gentle. You travel quite a distance before you fall off the cliff. I’m still attending meetings daily, for example. I stay in touch with my sponsor on a daily basis, too. I work with 5 sponsees, two of whom are actively doing the work, two are actively pretending to and one, the one who is probably the most like me, is actively wishing he was willing. (Thinking about him breaks my heart. )

In spite of these things I have increasingly felt restless, irritated and depressed. Finances, for example, have been hugely problematic since last August. There is a definite move in my future, either at the end of this month or next, which is adding to my anxiety. I have become increasingly irritated in meetings by an entire class of AA member whom I have judged (either rightly or wrongly) to have not done ‘the work’. In spite of the reinstatement of my probation, a blessing of some magnitude, I have only been able to focus on the additional terms of my probation. One of my court orders reinstating my probation actually says that as one of the terms of my reinstatement that I am to “complete AA/NA” – that little gem just about made my head pop off. I have never really recovered from my bout of bronchitis and right now my throat is so sore I can barely swallow. I haven’t slept more than two consecutive hours in months. I am acutely aware of being single.

For someone putting consistent effort into the program these things are easily navigable. For someone who has “let up” they are the beginning of a slow decline back into the insanity of addiction; a decline so gentle that it is hardly perceptible. I couldn’t see it, but something was gnawing at me. I knew something was not right. And somehow, before yesterday I had not noticed how long it has been since I was willing to pick up a pen and write any inventory. My writing here had trailed of significantly and anything that showed up here was by sheer force of will rather than the organic process that I typically experience. My regimen of prayer and meditation has weakened. Naturally a simple knowledge of God’s presence in my life has not netted the same results that earnestly seeking God did.

One of the most uncomfortable truths for me is that nearly every time I take someone else’s inventory, like I did to that poor girl the other day, I am really taking my own inventory. Those that irritate me are more often than not just like me. It often takes me days to see it, though, and I don’t know that I’ve ever been able to see it before I pick up a pen and write inventory. The up-side of this discomfort it that it reminds me that I am growing. In fact, I’m probably growing a lot.

They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.
-Andy Warhol

The book talks over and over about needing to take action; about heading for trouble if we rest on our previous accomplishments; about having a ‘daily reprieve’ based on our spiritual health. It directs us to seek to “improve our conscious contact with God”, conscious contact that we gain, at least in the sense of recovery from addiction, by first taking the steps. Of course they knew the 12 steps were but the beginning of a spiritual way of life. “We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us.” It tells us that there are “certain trials and low spots ahead.” It never says that we will be entirely, completely and forever free of alcoholic thinking.

So . . . I had a bad day. Obviously.

Actually, in terms of fucked up thinking and out of control emotions, it was the most fucked up day I’ve had in recent memory. Moreover, it’s exactly the kind of thinking that used to send me straight for a bottle or a bag. The feelings of worthlessness were also compounded by the fact that I’ve been ill. For a week now I’ve been trying to pretend that I don’t have bronchitis and today I finally went to the doctor to take care of that. Illness probably accounted for much of it, truthfully; “how great the spiritual change that it brings”.

This time, this round of overwhelming hopelessness, I didn’t experience the compulsion to get loaded. This time the tools I’ve been taught to use kicked in. When the ride is bumpy you grease the wheel bearings, right? So when life gets bumpy I pick up the “simple kit of spiritual tools.” Even though at the time they didn’t seem to bring me much relief (if any), they did keep me busy for awhile. I did what I could to live in the solution, to keep my side of the street clean, to carry the message, to seek God and I got a decent nights sleep.

And this morning everything looks much better. It’s not what I would have in my idealized life, but it’s do-able. If nothing happens in God’s world by mistake, then God’s will is what happens. Just who do I think I am to argue and pout about God allowing me to pay for the consequences of my own actions?

My other actions had consequences, too. The action of taking the steps, the action of working with others, the action of being honest about what was in my head, the action of asking for help, the action of praying, the action of going to bed early – all these things had consequences. The consequences are that I helped another addict, I relied a little more on God, I gained a little faith, and most importantly – I didn’t have to get loaded.

And that’s a miracle.

Vintage Ad #305: MAAAARFAK!, originally uploaded by jbcurio.

 

“I wonder what it would be like if I really lived like I knew everything was going to be all right. Or if I really lived like I knew at all times I was loved and am love. Or if I really lived like I knew that I had access to a power that is unlimited and can do anything. I was considering it as I was making it through another cacophonous few minutes in my life where my thoughts were doing a victim conga line in my mind. I just know that life is not meant to be this way. But I also keep forgetting.” – My Agapic Life

We alcoholics and addicts seem to be especially endowed with that; with forgetfulness. In the absence of a complete restructuring of our psyches most of us have a difficult time telling the difference between what is objectively real and what is only real in our minds. At least that has been my experience. I forget that the underlying fabric of the universe is a part of me. I forget that my finite self as marshaled by my will is insufficient to solve my problems. And every time I forget those things I place myself a little farther away from Grace and a little closer to Destruction. Every time I forget to pick up the tools and balk at the work that leads me toward my Creator, I suffer. Every time I suffer, I forget that it is temporary.

On good days, on days I remember to pray, on days that I do an honest 10th step, the consciousness of the Love and Presence of my Creator is clearer to me. I seem, however, to go along in life thinking that I’m doing it; I’m carrying the message, my life is becoming manageable (ish) and I remain focused on the work I have already done. Inevitably something throws an unexpected log in my path and I have to exhaust myself trying to move it on my own.

The couple of things recently that have been particularly troublesome both involve entitlement. They involve my ego telling me that I should be treated differently, that I’m special, that I deserve better and they both involve the real (or I suppose imagined) wrongdoing of others. Good evidence suggests that doing the work provides me with a path to at least, at least, take a kindly and tolerant view. Yet, here I am, balking at the work.

I’ve been balking for some time on doing the work of my sex inventory. I had written so much on the other aspects of my fellationship with the IFX and in so doing had been relieved of so much of the pain that has plagued me these many months. It was a new harm, or rather just rudeness, that has prompted me to wallow in self-pity and animosity and to allow myself to forget that God can solve that problem, too. Stepping off the “I flippin’ deserve to be treated better than that” treadmill for only a moment allows me to see that there is a solution to the problem, yet I have been unwilling to take the necessary action. I’ve been enjoying the treadmill.

I have an astonishing need to be right, to be attended to and to receive the approval and acceptance of others. I have marched around being ‘right’ and soliciting endorsement of my ‘rightness’ since December. I have wallowed in my ‘rightness’ to such an extent that I went home from a meeting a couple of nights ago, climbed in bed at 7 o’clock and cried myself to sleep. I have considered ditching all my friends and changing all my meetings. I have half talked myself into believing that the only solution is to move away. By failing to pick up the tools I am hardly acceptable. It is hardly what God would have me do. I don’t approve of it and cannot expect others to approve, either. I forget that a little willingness goes a long, long way in this program. I forget where I put the willingness to act in faith until I’m out of ideas and have nowhere to turn but to God.

The other area I still think I can manage on my own stems from my indignation about the copyright to my work being infringed upon by an organization with a paid staff and whom I have offered a license to use my work for free but who have not complied with that simple request. Instead their paid staff are insisting that I spend my unpaid time to

“submit a notification pursuant to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (“DMCA”) by providing our Copyright Agent with the following information in writing (see 17 U.S.C. Section 512(c)(3) for further detail)”

This is an arduous and time consuming task. Not only that, but they also assert that

“The compilation of all content on this site is the exclusive property of (unnamed site) and protected by U.S. and international copyright laws.”

All they had to do was ask me. That one bit of “I deserve to be treated better” has disturbed my serenity enough for me to march around being ‘right’ about that, too.

To some extent, perhaps even to a great extent in each of these situations, I am right. I do deserve better. I am worth more. It is not my ‘fault’. My fault lies in being miserable about it. My fault lies in the idea that I can manage these things without the steps and without God. I just know that my life isn’t meant to be this way, that I have a spiritual answer to these problems, that I do not have to suffer over things like this or to allow them to cut me off from the ‘sunlight of the Spirit’. I have unlimited access that connects me to the fullness and grace of my limitless and loving Creator.

But, I also keep forgetting.

Ambler’s Texaco Gas Station, originally uploaded by jimfrazier. www.dwightillinois.com/history.htm