Why I live in the ghetto...

So, my apartment complex may be a little ghetto, but the reason I picked this place to live is because of the wide open spaces adjacent to my building. I walk my dog daily over there, and today I remembered to bring my camera. Keep in mind that I know NOTHING about photography!

Winter sleeps!

And today I heard the first spring peepers singing!

mmmmm....zingers.

Quote of the Day

Well, spring sprang. We've had our state of grace and our little gift of sanctioned madness, courtesy of Mother Nature. Thanks, Gaia. Much obliged. I guess it's time to get back to that daily routine of living we like to call normal.

~David Assael, Northern Exposure, Spring Break, 1991

God speaks in.......birds?

It may sound strange, but I believe that God has a number of ways in which he speaks to me; the whisper of a soft breeze through the tops of the trees, or just a whisper in my mind, through the words of another person, through the written word, whatever the source of that word may be, and, yes, occasionally, he speaks to me in birds.

The darkest moment of my life, the moment when two women sat me down on my couch to tell me that my beloved Jimmy was never coming home again, my world went black. Thoughts, words, feelings...they all became meaningless. There was only pain. Hot, searing, ripping, tearing pain. When I opened my eyes, there was a perfect red cardinal outside of my living room window. He was looking intently at me. He flitted from branch to branch over the next several moments, never leaving my sight and always with his gaze fixed on mine. As strange as it may sound, I found comfort in that bird. Comfort in the moment when I could not be comforted.
Looking back on it, I can say without pause that God sent me that bird.


The cedar waxwing has always been my favorite native Michigan bird. The first time I ever laid eyes on one, I was about twelve years old. After hearing that dreaded "thump" at my picture window, I raced outside, hoping that whoever had hit the window would be just stunned enough so that I could hold the wild thing gently in my hand until it regained it's wits and flew off. A cedar waxwing lay dead on the ground. I had never seen such a creature; it's feathers so fine and soft that they didn't resemble feathers at all, but rather a sort of creamy silk overlay. Almost as if it wasn't a real bird at all, but a fine wax sculpture of some imaginary bird that couldn't possibly exist because it was too perfect. Too beautiful. It laid dead in my hand with a trickle of blood coming from it's mouth and I cried. Cried because it was so beautiful, and cried because it was dead.

Immediately following, I went inside and proceeded to read my mother's birding field guide cover to cover. I found myself overwhelmed by the sheer number of breathtaking creatures existing in this world. That day began what has become a life-long passion of mine. Bird-watching continues to be a very avid, very personal, and very meditative hobby of mine. And it all started with that perfect dead cedar waxwing.

This weekend, as I moved my things into my new place, a sense of fear and despair began to overtake me. I was not home. I would have been sobbing openly, but my apartment was filled with people who had helped me move. As they began to leave, I found myself drawn to my sliding glass window. I stood there and listened....a series of high-pitched trills filled the air. As I watched, a flock of cedar waxwings made their way from deep back in the woods to the tree less than ten feet from my window.


There is no doubt in my mind that God sent me those birds.

So, for those of you who have been asking "how am I doing?", the answer is.....God is sending me birds.....how could I be anything but fine?

On a far less introspective note....the red-winged blackbirds are officially back for the warmer months.

For Todd

Sweet Anticipation

Only a few more days until this journey truly begins...

Most of the time I am actually giddy with excitement and anticipation. Last night, however, I got melancholy and forelorn. The sooner we are in seperate living situations, the better.

We are stuck in this sort of bittersweet purgatory, which is probably not healthy for either of us.

A funny moment yesterday, when my oldest, dearest friend Lauren suddenly transformed into my "financial advisor". She reminded me of some fundamental truths regarding this house that Kevin and I BOTH own and after some initial resentment from Kevin, he agreed to a satisfactory solution for both of us. Then he "thanked her very much for calling" (fececiously, of course).

It feels good when a nigga got your back. Lots of them, in my case. Today, I am grateful for my many niggas. Shout out.

Reality

The reality of my situation is beginning to sink in. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I am reaching a point of acceptance, for now. I know that I am not alone.

I feel a purr of sadness and a little pinch of fear, but part of me is getting excited about my new little apartment. From what I understand, it is in an end unit, facing the woods and the stream and kitty corner from the 40+ acre field where I can walk my dog. I already have a bedding set picked out, and Kevin is letting me take my loveseat and ottoman that I love so much. I will trade in my piece of shit laptop that I hate for a desktop computer.

We are going to share custody of the animals. I will be taking two of the cats and he will be keeping two. The dog will come with me as he is not home near enough to take care of her. But he will have her on the weekends occasionally. My new fishtank will have to be dismantled and moved, and hopefully my fish will survive the transition.

I am staying in close contact with my sisters in recovery, and trying to stay out of my head as much as possible. There's no going back now. This is what we are doing, whether I like it or not. I am clinging to the fact that, for now, we are calling this a temporary split...probably because to call it anything else would be too terrifying.

Peace

Today, I am grateful for peace. I am not spinning like I did last night. I have come to feel confident in our decision to separate. I think that this will either make or break us, but either way, I know that God's will will be done...provided that we stay out of His way and let Him work on us.

I have found an apartment, and the only real tragedy is that I have to part with my beloved Pottamus (my horse). It is killing me to have to do it, but I know that the last thing I need during this time of searching is financial stress. If I had my own farm, it would be different. But board and feed are expensive, and I know that this is what needs to be done. I have already had one prospective buyer show interest who seems like a perfect match. We'll see.

Changes. The darkness of the unknown. Fear. Faith. Uncertainty. Grief. Freedom. Hope.

Happy St. Patty's Day.

Off my f@%$&*ing rocker.

Ok, so today, I either had a moment of clarity, or a complete nervous breakdown. I am either in touch with my needs and emotions or I need my meds tweaked. At this point, I sit here with no fucking idea which it is.

I initiated a conversation with Kevin during which we decided to officially separate for a while, if not for good. Shortly after, a bawling, slobbering mess, I confirmed to three sisters in recovery exactly what I had just done and why. I received three different responses.
1. Saw this coming a mile away...you will be fine alone.
2. I support you no matter what.
3. Don't you think that was a bit impulsive?

OK, no clarity there. So then I called my mom. She proceeded to more or less lose her mind, more over her own powerlessness to control/fix the situation. She suggested that:
1. I am manic.
2. We wait to seperate until she heads north for the summer in May
3. We get therapy, individually and jointly.

The problems with these three suggestions is that:
1. I am not bipolar (thought I am having my doubts right now)
2. There doesn't really seem to be any turning back from here, and how do you live with someone you are separated from?
3. What do we do while we are getting therapy? Live together or live apart?

So, as of this moment, I have no idea what the fuck to do. Half of me wants to call it quits, not because we are mad at each other, not because he is a bad person, but because he is such a wonderful man and yet, I don't know if I am in love with him - 3 1/2 years into the relationship, because he deserves someone who is madly in love with him, and because I deserve the same.

My thoughts earlier where that we have become more like brother-sister or best friends than a couple. We lost our intimacy a year and a half ago, and I'll be damned if we haven't tried to find it to no avail.

I am plagued with thoughts of wanting to be free to date (GOD help me, why I would want to be back out THERE at 31 years old with MY baggage...I have NO idea!). Not really sure as to why, mostly, I think it is just that I have never really dated in my life. My life has been a series of drunken one-night-stands and two accidental relationships. I have never actually been asked out on a date.

I am plagued with questions as to what I REALLY want in this life, a new career, children, marriage, etc...and I don't really know what my stand is on any of these aforementioned issues.

I am plagued with expectations of WHO I want to spend my life with, if anybody, and the qualities I expect this person to have, and whether Kevin posesses any or all of these qualities, and again...I'm drawin' a blank.

So, in light of all this uncertainty...do I NOT want to make any rash decisions like the one I've just made? Or do I NOT want to stay in a life that I am so uncertain about? Now THAT is the question, my friends.

For now, I think I will take this sick ass and this overloaded head to bed. Thanks for letting me share, and with that, I'll pass...

Hmmm...food for thought

True intimacy with another human being can only be experienced when you have found true peace within yourself.
--Angela L. Wozniak

I think this might be my problem.

Howie

I will now begin introducing each of my children with an introduction of Howie, the youngest of the kitties. Howie is a 6month old seal point siamese kitten, and is better known as Stupid One or The Littlest Poo-Head. Howie is named after the HOW of the NA program; Honesty, Openmindedness, and Willingness.

Commitment issues

It has recently been brought to my attention that I rarely, if ever, acknowledge the fact that I am, in fact, engaged on my blog. I have also been "forgetting" to wear a ring on my ring finger, keeping in close contact with an "ex", and entertaining thoughts of having anaffair with my Chiropractor.

Upon further evaluation, it seems that I may have some commitment issues.

So, in an attempt to act my way into right thinking, here is my FIANCE'...... Kevin.

Solutions

So, there comes a point in everybody's recovery when they can begin to recognize the problems which had been previously masked in denial, rationalization and dishonesty. It is a major accomplishment and indication of growth when these certain things, be they behaviors or obsessions, cause that not-so-comfy feeling in our gut and we know that we are a little (or a lot) off kilter. To begin to have negative gut reactions to negative thoughts or behaviors is a major milestone in recovery.

Now, further down the line, there comes a time when that negative gut reaction to that obsession or behavior is followed by an equally unpleasant feeling if we do not SEEK OUT AND ACT on a SOLUTION to whatever that problem might be. Let me explain.

For me, it was ENOUGH, for a while, that I had developed the ability to recognize when I was acting in conflict with my morals and values and/or entertaining an obsession, because the mere act of recognizing my unhealthy thoughts or behaviors was such tremendous growth. Recognition is no longer sufficient for my recovery today. If I do not begin to seek out solutions to avoid the patterns, then I am not in recovery today. It's do or die time, y'all. Do or die. Time to take that plunge into the unknown. And I am scared shitless.

Freedom Rants...

I'd like to take a moment to plug my friend Randy. His new blog is entitled Freedom Rants. It is probing, raw, brave, honest and reflective...not to mention an entertaining read.

What is my message?

I ended up having to find a replacement to speak at our latest Narcotics Anonymous event due to circumstances beyond my control, and to say that I wasn't a little (OK, a lot) relieved would be a lie.

I have been sharing at meetings for the last 3 1/2 years, so what is it about being the "speaker" at an event that has me so worked up? I have been freaking about this all month, this 30 minutes of "carrying my message" to my fellow addicts....what is the problem?

Well, first of all, I have been the main speaker at exactly 1 meeting thus far and to say that it was an utter disaster would be minimizing the situation. I basically went through every detail of my using life until the chairperson pointed at his watch and I said, "and then I got clean and my life is better now."

UGH!!!

I guess my biggest struggle is identifying the answer to the question...what is my message???

I'm an addict, that part is clear enough. I am a woman in recovery...again, obvious. Dysfunctional past, self-esteem issues, codependent...blah, blah, blah. Heard it before. What makes my story MINE?? I am not your typical "low bottom" addict as I understand a "low bottom" addict to be...i.e. needles, prison, prostitution, homelessness....so what makes my story worth telling?

I am going to have to ponder this question and get back to you.

An old favorite of mine

Monkey

Monkey

Far be it from me to rub salt in any monkey's wound, but it appears as if even the other monkeys have removed their rose-colored glasses...

click here

Quote of the day

And the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom ~Anais Nin

Gratitude list.

Ok, Todd...here you go.
I have gratitude, today, for the following:

1. My friends
2. The program of Narcotics Anonymous
3. God, as I understand him
4. The fact that my belly is officially smaller than my ass
5. My recovery and my meetings
6. My sponsor (I promise I will call her any day now...)
7. My genetically inferior dog who has more maintenance fees than a Yugo
8. My relationships with my parents today
9. My relationship with my maternal grandparents
10. My health
11. The fact that I am down to 1 ass instead of two (one top ass and one bottom ass)
12. The fact that I only have one set of breasts and they are in the front of my body
13. Breyers sugar free double churned vanilla ice cream
14. Strawberries
15. Coffee
16. Green olives
17. My romantic relationship (and Kevin too. That was a joke.)
18. My mom's recovery
19. My new fish tank that I haven't gotten yet.
20. blogging.

Hormones anyone???

Without being too graphic, let me just say that I have come to the official recognition that my hormones and my disease of addiction have gone into business together. They have started a committee better known as the "fuck-Lizzie-up-committee" and they have their board meeting in my head, once a month, for approximately five days. I have heard rumors that they will be going public soon, so if anyone would like to buy into the "fuck-Lizzie-up-committee", please contact the president of the board at 1-800-bite-me.

Forelorn

So, here's my excuse for being such a big, fat blog-slacker. I have been in a lousey place this week. Just a real shitty place. No particular reason, though that whole woman thing and the fact that when I went dress shopping the other day, I felt like an overstuffed bag of shit...but other than that, I don't have any real reason to complain.

I have to speak at our NA event this weekend. I don't wanna. I got nothing. Nothing to share, nothing to say, nothing to give. If I were my sponsor, I'd tell me to make a graitude list. And maybe if I actually called my sponsor, that's what she'd tell me to do.

I believe it is officially time for "Project Get Your Fat Ass off the Pity Pot!"

Maybe I'll write a gratitude list after all.

First thing tomorrow.

Lurkers???

Hmmmm....it seems that I have a lurker in Wayland, MI. I know only one person from Wayland....is that who I think it is??? If so, pray tell, make yourself known!!!! Call me for goodness sakes!

Is it just me?

US ready to sell advanced arms to India

Is it just me or does anyone else have this wierd feeling that we'll all be speaking Chinese in a few years???

Just a thought.