Grace

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Little Pink Houses – and all I really did, I think, was stay sober

November 20, 2010 in Gratitude, Living in Recovery, promises by Chris | 7 comments

Little Pink Houses - and all I did was stay sober

Little Pink Houses - and all I did was stay soberOn November 29th, 2007 is was 10 months and some days sober and in training for a job at McDonald’s; a job which, it turns out, I was barely capable of doing, my brain still healing from the years and years of crystal meth I did.

Ultimately I wasn’t even able to keep that job.  At nearly a year sober I was still so fried that I could barely do anything but focus on my recovery; pray, meditate, write, work with a sponsor, go to meetings, etc.  I imagine that most other people’s stories aren’t like that, even the stories of isolated, gay crystal meth addicts.  I fell down the scale much farther than was necessary for me to be able to see that I was an addict.  I just didn’t have enough motivation to do anything about it.  I had given up and I had no hope that it would ever be better, so why not just stay high.

I imagine that other people’s stories aren’t as extreme as mine, but for me, getting to the place where I could hold down a job was a big deal.  After a year sober I was given a scooter, which helped me get to a better job and hold that.

At 2 years, I got a car.  A really decent car.  Probably the best car I’ve ever had, and certainly the safest and most economical.

That was almost exactly 2 years ago.  In between I’ve held down the same job, maintained the same residence (with a roommate who is out of town 8 months a year), keep the same phone number, buy the business I worked for and manage to not drive it into the ground.  It hasn’t made any money but it has given a decent living to all of us who work there and in this economy that is a minor miracle in itself.

I’m a little less than 2 months away from my 4th sobriety anniversary and a few days longer that 2 years after the purchase of my car, and I have been given the opportunity to buy a house.  Of course I don’t qualify for the home loan on my own, but my parents are very fortunately situated so the financing is taken care of.  Still, honestly, I didn’t believe I’d ever get to own a house.

It’s a cute little mid-century (1959) ranch with 3 bedrooms, one bath, oak floors, a fireplace, on a quarter acre with a stone, wood-burning BBQ, apple trees, plum trees, and roses everywhere.  There are no repairs the house needs.  It has been beautifully maintained.

The only thing I’ve really done perfectly is not drink or use.  I have been awake whenever the idea that “this time will be different” would sneek into my mind and vigilantly dismiss the thought as insane.  I have done the best I can with what is in front of me – much of the time.  I have learned a ton, but never by doing it right the first time.  I have made every possible mistake along the way.

I’m not suggesting at all that if you stay sober for 4 years you’ll get a house.  I am saying that if you stay sober, if you actually fix your life, everything will change.  And even though some things will suck, and some things will hurt, and some things will set you back, your life will change for the better.

You have to play to win.

October 21, 2008 in Honesty by Chris | No comments

 

More and more I’m beginning to think that if one gets sober and stays sober it is entirely by happenstance; that no amount of effort, no profound experience, no treatment program, no great desire, no necessity, has the power to get and keep any of us sober. And I certainly don’t have the power to produce sobriety on my own. So if I can’t get sober because I want it bad enough, need it bad enough, have worked hard enough for it, have paid enough for it, etc., then every day that I happen to stay sober must be an anomaly. A fluke.

Or a product of grace.

There is a man who attends many of the same meetings I attend, who, I don’t know, it may look different to someone who is really paying attention, but to a newcomer, or relative newcomer, tells an incredibly inspirational story. He talks about being a half gallon a day vodka drinker who was set free by the program of AA. He has a powerfully moving story that made me always look forward to hearing him speak. 

Read the rest of this story.

Grand Illusion

March 23, 2008 in Hope by Chris | 11 comments

swc-index2.jpgThere is a light at the end of the tunnel.
The light is not an illusion.
The tunnel is.
-unknown

I noticed this sign above the door of a meeting I occasionally go to and it just struck me. It seemed profound enough, but it wasn’t till I woke up this morning and read Sweet Pea’s post where she said, “secrets. they thrive in the darkest recesses of my mind and heart,” that I began to see the truth in the idea that the tunnel is an illusion.

I don’t know very many people, even the most spiritual or religious people, who come into the rooms of recovery, that have something resembling a useful and healthy relationship with a power greater than themselves that they understand to be infinite love. That was definitely true for me. I came in with a pretty traditional Judeo-Christian understanding of the Celestial Father, the one I hear some people call the ‘bearded, bean counting, lightning bolt throwing bastard in the sky’. Sure, He was loving and merciful to those who groveled for his forgiveness, but there were things he wouldn’t forgive and I was pretty sure it was me – radical faggot political activist drug addicted rebel that I am. In the difference I perceived between me and everything else I perceived darkness and isolation.

Though it was never said in so many words, I was under the impression that God didn’t like little boys who wanted to grow up to be Mahalia Jackson and to bury their face in Parker Stevenson’s arm pit, which is a shame, really. People like me especially need God. In a world where getting love and acceptance from the closest members of your family is problematic, God can mean the difference between life and death. As a youngster I didn’t understand that my church turning it’s back on me was not the same as God turning His back on me and I responded in kind. I turned my back on God and began to move farther into the illusion of separateness from All that Is.

I realize now that experiencing this separation is part of the human condition; that “our stories align at the core, if not in the sorry details.” The book talks about alcoholics and addicts being extreme examples of living according to this illusion. It talks about self-will run riot, of problems being of our own making and arising in our selves, of a spiritual malady that centers in our minds. It also suggests that people like me reaching out for help need to choose between God being everything or nothing; at a certain point we have to accept spiritual help if we are to recover.

Many forms of spiritual instruction and many forms of religion inform my journey, one of them recently being A Course in Miracles. I am attracted to the course largely because at it’s core it talks about what we talk about in AA and in similar, almost identical, terms. It talks about God being everything. It says that what blocks us from God is a barrier created out of our own mind. It says “a cloud does not put out the sun.”

The tunnel is an illusion.

The light is not.

The tunnel is made out of me. “Above everything, we alcoholics must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kill us!”

I found God in AA. I found God when I was finally “beaten into a state of reasonableness”; when I finally got still enough to listen. And that is where I continue to find Him; in the quiet space in between the demands of living a “productive” life in the material world. Demands on my time have increased and finding, or setting aside, enough time to get still has been challenging recently. I experience it as anxiety, frustration, sadness. I experience it as separation; as the tunnel. I wonder what people want from me and I wonder how my needs will be met. I forget that the real question is “what does God expect from me?”

As you already know, I am not particularly Christian. The God I have come to know through AA is described to me most perfectly in Hindu tradition as “the unchanging, infinite, immanent, and transcendent reality which is the Divine Ground of all matter, energy, time, space, being, and everything beyond in this Universe.” But the symbolism of Easter is not lost on me. It really is the sacrifice of self that leads to eternal life, freedom from bondage, salvation and enlightenment.

Happy Easter, friends.

One More Round for Experience

February 27, 2008 in Living in Recovery by Chris | 3 comments

Hell’s Fairies How could we make amends?
So it’s one more round for experience
And I’m on the road again
And it’s going to take some time this time.
-Carole King

I am so relieved to finally have this chapter over with. Well, this part anyway. My relationship with the Department of Corrections is far from over, but the big hurdle is – the hurdle where I have no power. From here on out the results are directly related to what I do. Ultimately, all they are really asking for is that I do what I’m doing -stay sober, be accountable. In a way that seems like the true test of addiction and of recovery. In active addiction staying sober was unthinkable and being accountable was impossible. In recovery staying sober and being accountable are both absolutely possible. I have seen (and been seen by) the last of the three judges who had all placed me on probation back in 2001. I have accounted for the fact that I simply vanished for 13 months while I was supposed to be supervised. The State has had three opportunities to show that for the good of the People I need to be placed in a correctional institution and on each of those occasions the Court has disagreed. A year ago the story would have ended differently.

“(H)e had the extraordinary experience, which as we have already told you, made him a free man.” (p. 28)

Going several rounds with these judges gave me the opportunity to become more effective at speaking to that particular type of audience, authority figures, and I’m grateful for the experience. It didn’t take away the tears. I kept them from pouring. I kept my voice in check, mostly, but there was emotion there in me, the kind that I normally associate with deep prayer; the kind I let myself fall in to when I’m in the shower, say, or whenever I can have some uninterrupted time with God. But by the third time I was able to get right to the bottom of the matter and let Her Honor know that I knew the gravity of my error, that I didn’t believe it was the sort of thing that would happen again because of the work I’ve done, that certainly I hoped to not go to prison but that either way I knew that I would be useful. God gave me a message to share and I would be able to share it wherever I was.

“We, in our turn, sought the same escape with all the desperation of drowning men. What seemed at first a flimsy reed, has proved to be the loving and powerful hand of God. A new life has been given us or, if you prefer, “a design for living “that really works.” (p. 28)

God’s hand-prints are all over this experience of mine. And yet the unrealized, finite and fearful part of me still worries about things; is still ungrateful and selfish. Perhaps I can never be entirely free from worry or self-pity. I recognize that those defects are pretty significantly diminished today and it has occurred to me of late that mindfulness of what I am grateful for might alleviate some of that insane suffering. So, lest you think I’m the most ungrateful son of a bitch that ever lived, here is a quick and dirty of what I am grateful for today:

  • Being ‘on the road again’ on my little gay scooter! Motorized transportation rocks!
  • My friend Robert who agreed that we should start our own club since, because we don’t have bikes with at least 600 cc., the Sober Riders won’t have us. We’ll be Scootin’ Sober. We may even get groovy wind breakers or something.
  • The fact that food stamps are easy to apply for.
  • That I have clear cut directions for finishing probation.
  • That I have probation at all.
  • That I can’t be thrown in prison for thinking stupid, selfish thoughts about not getting my way.
  • That I can sometimes recognize that I’m thinking stupid, selfish thoughts about not getting my way.
  • That people who love me love me enough to point out when I’m thinking stupid, selfish thoughts.
  • That I have a purpose, that I can be useful to God wherever I am.
  • That God has allowed me to be useful out here instead of in there, and most of all, that
  • God loves me. Like, A LOT!!!

So, in this particular “round for experience” I have made my amends. The judges have permitted me to do the right thing and supported it. And three times now God has let me know that I am most useful out here doing what I’m doing. I’m “on the road again”; literally and figuratively, and that is fantastic!

HELLS FAIRIES: A GLBT scooter group in Chicago is ready to ride. Photo: Alex Rumsey

If Your Car Feels Like This

February 15, 2008 in Living in Recovery by Chris | 5 comments

MaintenanceThey 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.

 

What if I Was Truly Full?

January 18, 2008 in Living in Recovery by Chris | 10 comments

Ambler's Texaco - Rt. 66 “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

From There To Here

January 15, 2008 in Living in Recovery by Chris | 10 comments

Thou canst not travel on the path before thou hast become that Path itself.
- Helena Blavatsky

Several years ago, during an especially unmanageable part of my addiction history, I had a dream that I was driving. I was desperately trying to get somewhere and I seemed to have the wrong directions. I was talking to my mom on my cell phone asking for directions and she was describing to me where to turn. I could tell from her description that I was in the place that I was supposed to be, but the road she kept telling me to turn on did not exist. There was only a steep grassy hillside. I tried to find another avenue but there were none. All of the paths only looped me back to the place I started from; the place I was supposed to turn onto a road that was not there.

December 14, 2006, I had reached the end of my looking for the road that was not there. Everything in my life had come to nothing. I’m a stubborn boy. I do not yield easily. Every time I had a negative consequence because of my addiction I quickly pushed it aside in favor of a new strategy that would enable me to keep using. I was “not able to bring into mind with sufficient force the humiliation and suffering” of my present moment. I had prayed for a long time, and that night I prayed in earnest for God to let my life end. I have found that most people in recovery had a similar, profound pain.

People say to be careful what we pray for. I don’t know what they are talking about. I prayed that God would end my life and He did. Just not the way I hoped for. You see, I had hoped that I would simply not wake up one morning, or perhaps I’d get hit by a bus. I hoped that it wouldn’t be to painful. I would have done the job myself but I didn’t have the courage.

Prayers are heard and prayers are answered. I prayed for my life to end and it ended. One year ago, today, I woke up to a new life in a universe that makes sense; a life free of drugs and alcohol. Every morning and every evening for 365 days I have gotten up and gone to bed at night sober. That’s a miracle in my life.

There is no road that gets one from where I was to where I am. No worldly power is sufficient. No treatment program, not doctor, no family member or great love, no willpower, no consequence, no threat of jails or institutions or death was powerful enough to get me sober and keep me that way. It is only the grace of a loving Creator who intends for me a purpose, a meaning, and a destiny to grow, day by day, toward His own likeness and image.

I am only one, but I am one. I can’t do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.
- Edward Everett Hale

Photo credit: Texaco Detail, originally uploaded by aliyan824.

Note: This photograph is a detail of an oversized map of the state of New York made up of 567 mosaic terrazzo panels weighing about 400 lbs. each, covering the floor of Philip Johnson & Richard Foster’s New York State Pavilion at the the 1964 World’s Fair in New York (Queens). The map, now in ruins, once displayed the locations of all Texaco gas stations in the state of New York.

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