The Last Chance Texaco

Posts Tagged ‘Gratitude’

I never would have thought I’d have an opportunity like this again.  The end of my drug use, and even for the most part the first 3 years I’ve been sober, have been pretty uninteresting and I have actually become pretty resistant to change.  Variation kind of freaks me out.  I feel so secure in my little rut.  This week though, I’ve had to travel to the Central Valley of California to a huge farm show for work, something outside of my usual comfort zone, and I’ve been happily expanding my vistas.

It turned out that the city we are staying in is 3 short hours from Yosemite Valley – my favorite place on earth – and somewhere I didn’t think I’d have the opportunity to see in the foreseeable future.  But as I was planning the trip I happened to notice how close it was and that we had an unscheduled 10 hours.  How could I resist.  I also decided that considering how hard we’re working and the fact that I won’t have a real day off at home in well over a week that the least the company could do is buy me lunch.  At one of my favorite restaurants.  At the Ahwahnee Hotel.  Four courses of glorious, glorious food in the most beautiful dining room with the most extraordinary view in America. Read the rest of this entry »

I am really feeling grateful for my life today.  And I’m feeling especially grateful for the time that I spent with my sponsor up in Atlanta and everything that has followed.

Friday night I got to take one of my favorite people, Jill, the friend who let me detox at her house, out for dinner at my favorite restaurant, just to thank her for helping to save my life and get caught up.  Dinner was amazing.  Dessert was breathtaking.  The company was as dear to me as life and I left feeling revived; body, mind and spirit.

Saturday a friend with only 14 days sober suggested we go to McCall for the day.  Now, McCall is hardly a day trip so I called my parents and asked if we could use the cabin they have there.  We headed up, drove an extra 30 miles or so to go to Bergdorf Hot Springs and enjoyed the waters.  We headed back to the cabin, grilled a couple or rib eyes, went to an AA meeting, and talked recovery.  We were having trouble finding the meeting location so I pulled into a grocery store and walked in and asked the bag boy where the Nazarene church on pine street was.  He looked at me and asked, “Are you going to the 8 o’clock?”  Then he told us that he had a year and 2 days sober that day; a little indication from HP that we were on the right track and we were meant to be where we were.

On the way home this morning we continued our conversation about how to do recovery, the barriers to recovering, the problems we encounter and the lies we tell ourselves that take us back out.  We talked about the solution to those problems and about finding whatever formula works.

A few minutes ago another friend called to say that she is sponsor shopping and asked if I thought my own sponsor might take her on.  A little twinge of pride set it.  “What?  I’m not good enough,” I thought to myself.  But I shared some information and I passed along the phone number.  We’ll see what happens.

I feel like I’m back in “the stream of life” again, finally.

I’m dedicating Patty Griffin’s very first love song to myself.  I hope you enjoy it.

It was in the early hours of the morning of the day after my birthday two years ago that I was given my first step.  It didn’t feel much like a gift at the time, but that’s exactly what it was; a gift of grace.

Out of money and out of drugs, stood up on my birthday by the boy I was obsessed with, and hurt, and more afraid than I have ever been, I had set out to hunt down the object of my obsession and get fixed.  There wasn’t anything I was feeling that smoking a gram or two of crystal meth with a handsome sociopath who called me “buddy” wasn’t going to fix.  At least for awhile.  At least through the night. Read the rest of this entry »

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

I don’t care what the book says. If it’s not on the first 164 it’s hearsay. Acceptance is absolutely not the key to all my problems today. Honesty, open-mindedness and willingness play a much bigger role. So do humility, courage and perseverance. All of those played a critical role in helping me solve an overwhelmingly difficult problem – specifically my underemployment.

I got a new job today and it will actually pay me enough to live on. It’s something that I have had success at previously. I have a friend in recovery who works there. It’s really close to home (a 15 minute walk or a 5 minute bike ride). And equally important is the fact that while my new job offers no health insurance benefits, I can maintain my health benefits at the Clown Palace with as little as 9 hours per pay period. Totally do-able.

That’s one of the greatest things about a 12 step program. Taking the steps, applying the principles contained in them, has given me a life that, while it’s not perfect (heaven knows) it is totally do-able. The life that a year ago I prayed would end did end, not the way I expected, but it did end. Instead of being replaced by death it was replaced by a life worth living. Today life is totally do-able.

Thank you God!

Texaco – Fall Check-up, originally uploaded by Shannon C..

is to stay sober and to help other alcoholics (and addicts) achieve sobriety. When you’re first coming in, when you’re on the morning side of the mountain, tradition 5 seems like the dumbest or most obvious thing in the world. Duh.
There is a song by Patty Griffin, I’ve talked about this before, called Up to the Mountain or the MLK song, that was inspired by Dr. King’s last speech, the one known as “I’ve been to the mountaintop.” This song has been especially important to me in recovery. Many mornings that song is my prayer. It embodies the power of my turning point, that moment in time when God showed me the truth about myself and my disease and suggested to me that there was another way He desired me to go and gave me the willingness to go there. The power of that song and its relationship to my first step was married in the coincidence of my first sober breath being drawn on Martin Luther King Day.

I couldn’t see in the moment God gave me my first step that the view changes as you climb. All I could see then was that I’d been called to the mountain. In step 3 I made an agreement with God and climbed that mountain in faith. In step 7 God delivered and gave me consciousness of His presence. As trite as it sounds, the newcomer really is the most important person in the room and helping them up is our primary purpose. After finishing my 5th step with Jim the other day he said, “Now you have a message. Go carry it.” Bring your brother up the mountain.

Before today I had never read the full text of Dr. King’s speech. Perhaps I finally read it because I began working with a young man yesterday, showing him what I have done, how I have stayed sober and how I’ve taken the steps. He got home from the Walker Center the day before where he heard me speak and that night, when he saw me walk into a meeting he came across the room and sat down by me. He looked, and by his own admission was, terrified of going back to the life he had before. Since fear and pain are great motivators I suggested he get to work on the steps, offered to show him what I’ve done, shared with him how I found a sponsor and how that has helped me, and then suggested that while he was looking for the right man to work with we could capitalize on the momentum he had and get busy doing the work, before the willingness wore off.

He actually called yesterday. I was frankly surprised. I suggested we meet at the clubhouse I am a member of and he showed up. On time. We read “The Doctor’s Opinion” together and I showed him what I did for my first sponsor for first step work, showed him that it wasn’t in the book, told him that I didn’t believe it was absolutely necessary but what value I gained from it. I pulled out my notebook and showed him what I did for the sponsor I have now, first where I fucked it up because I complicate shit, and where I returned to the actual directions. I showed him where that is in the book. I shared what I got out of doing it. I wrote the instructions down, as my sponsor had for me. Then we went to a meeting. He still seemed frightened, which encouraged me. I saw him again last night at the second meeting I was at. I suspect I’ll hear from him later today. The view from up the mountain is profoundly different.

I don’t intend to detract from Dr. King’s message regarding the civil rights movement in any way, or from the powerful message of his final speech. There is a universal truth in that speech, though, about knowing God and about working to be delivered from bondage in any form. That universal truth, the message of courage and faith and hope, is the message I hope to carry when I share my experience with the next suffering alcoholic or addict. In the middle of his speech Dr. King talks about taking specific steps to becoming free from the bondage of poverty and inequality for black Americans, the same way we AAs talk about taking specific steps for victory over addiction. The first part and last part of the speech talk about the truth of why we do it. I have significantly edited leaving only the most relevant parts that pertain to my struggle to overcome, but I think it merits sharing here.

“I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a way that men, in some strange way, are responding.Something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry is always the same: “We want to be free.”

And another reason that I’m happy to live in this period is that we have been forced to a point where we are going to have to grapple with the problems that men have been trying to grapple with through history, but the demands didn’t force them to do it. Survival demands that we grapple with them. We know how it’s coming out. For when people get caught up with that which is right and they are willing to sacrifice for it, there is no stopping point short of victory.

If it means leaving work, if it means leaving school — be there. Be concerned about your brother. [E]ither we go up together, or we go down together. Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness. If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him? That’s the question before you tonight. The question is not, “If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?” The question is, “If I do not stop to help . . .what will happen to them?” That’s the question.

We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

- Dr. Martin Luther King, delivered 3 April 1968, Mason Temple (Church of God in Christ Headquarters), Memphis, Tennessee

in about three days. Sunday I started feeling poor and by Monday morning I was well and truly sick. A trip to the clinic Monday afternoon confirmed what I already knew and put me at home in bed with a fistful of antibiotics to prove it. Since I got home from rehab I have gone to at least one and often more 12 step meetings a day, usually AA though my primary drug of choice was crystal meth. Before the 12 o’clock meeting I went to today, the last meeting I attended was Sunday evening. For and alcoholic and addict like me that is far too long. I simply am not capable of being locked up in my house and staying sane. By this morning I didn’t even feel like I could pray right.

It’s not even like I was ever completely alone, not for long. It was an AA that took me to the doctor and waited hours with me to be seen. I live with another AA but haven’t been much of a roommate, locking myself in my room, afraid of making her sick, too. Looking at my last post, too, I see the early signs of illness. I get a little worn down and my default setting is “why can’t I have a boyfriend? Now?”

Of course all the hours I’ve spent in bed have been filled with all kinds of stuff I want to write about, stuff that seemed brilliant at the time when I was too exhausted to sit up and write, stuff that completely escapes me now. They say ‘meeting makers make it.’ I would add ‘if they do the work.’ Today I’m just grateful to have been able to make it to a meeting, whether I can pick up the work today or not.

Oh, yeah.  In case you weren’t paying attention or didn’t care or whatever, something was wrong with my wordpress installation and the feeds didn’t work.  That’s why I had to reinstall it from scratch on the 16th.  The backup of the database that contains this blog was corrupt, too, so basically the whole fucker was shot – anyway.  Today I recovered (praise be to the merciful and beneficent Google) the last of the lost posts and have restored them.  I have no intention of restoring lost comments.  Those of you who posted them can do that very well yourselves.

Blessings be.

I was asked by a colleague to answer a few questions about coming to that place of willingness, that turning point, to describe the moment I could see myself and my disease clearly. I’ve been concerned about keeping my ego out of the way so that I can offer authentic answers, answers that reflect the weight and gravity of the experience, in hopes that the story will be useful to someone. I’ve been re-reading my old writing. I rode my bike yesterday to the corner where I finally broke down. I have completely reconnected with the pain and the hopelessness that brought me to my knees; the point where I surrendered to the idea that I was never going to be able to get high without destroying my life and the lives of those around me.

When I had that moment of clarity and was able to see the truth about myself and my disease and finally became willing to ask for and accept spiritual help I was led to the one man perhaps most uniquely qualified to take me to the solution. I knew this man. I trusted him. I could see that he was living a principled life and I knew that there was no earthly way that he could become the man he was in light of the man he had been. A transformation like that requires a greater power. Somewhere I was given the willingness to do a few simple things to follow this man down the path. So far the road has been pretty clear and dry; not too tough a go, even considering the pain I was obviously in during the first 2 months. I’ve been very lucky.

I wrote the other day, though, that there is no guarantee that even under the most favorable conditions I’ll make it to the other side of the desert. My friend pulled me aside last Thursday night to tell me that he’d been drunk the night before; that he hadn’t made it. I responded with detachment, compassion, concern. Obviously I would need to find a new spiritual advisor. Thats fine, I thought. The whole next day I imagined that I hadn’t been too disturbed by the news at all. Friday evening, however, in a small meeting with some close friends, it suddenly occurred to me that someone I love who suffers with the disease of addiction, someone who is hopeless and helpless like me, someone who had put everything he had into grabbing on to and holding on to this thing we call ‘recovery’ — had not made it across the desert. Though my friend seemed, at the moment, to have gotten back on the wagon, to be back in the group and back in the work, one can never know for sure. My own experience has been that one little incident, even followed by rigorous effort to get back, often, perhaps usually, takes one right back to the place I was before I became willing to ask for help. One little slip sends me straight off the highway. I hate crying in public. I did it but I hated doing it. I’m worried for him and I’m worried for myself and I’m heartbroken.

There is not guarantee that we make it to permanent sobriety. Even with a spiritual program many of us miss the mark. After all, we’re only human. And being human, many, if not most of us, will fail at gaining victory over addiction. It is a baffling enemy. We can just do our best, seek guidance from those who have gone before us and trust the Man With the Star.