And today I heard the first spring peepers singing!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
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
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
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.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
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.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, March 17, 2006
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...
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...
Thursday, March 16, 2006
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.
--Angela L. Wozniak
I think this might be my problem.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, March 10, 2006
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
click here
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
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
Monday, March 06, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
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.
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!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
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.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
My very own blinkie...
Monday, February 27, 2006
Bad joke.
The CIA had an opening for an assassin. After all of the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were three finalists: two men and one woman. For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances. Inside this room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. You have to kill her."
The first man said, "You can't be serious. I could never shoot my wife!"
The agent replies, "Then you're not the right man for this job."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes.
Then the agent came out with tears in his eyes. "I tried, but I can't kill my wife." The agent replies, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. Only she was told to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow and said, "You guys didn't tell me the gun was loaded with blanks. So I had to beat him to death with the chair."Thanks, but you may be a little off...
So, for those of you who participated in my Johari Window and said such nice things about me, would your opinion change if you knew that I was a reality TV whore??? Complex? Intellegent? Not so sure about that.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Poetry in motion
My dear friend Anne has started her very own blog. Go check out "Addict, Bipolar, Beautiful, Freak" to read her story and her poetry. (Not that there is much of a difference in the two. Her story IS poetry).
Rock on, Cold Clammy Annie!
Rock on, Cold Clammy Annie!
Humor me
Hey, those of you who know me, and those of you who don't, but follow my blog....indulge me and click here.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Quote of the Day
The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet.
~James Oppenheim
~James Oppenheim
Friday, February 24, 2006
She's a smart one!
So, Kevin accompanied me to the barn today in order to lift some heavy things (that's about the only time I allow him into my serene horse world) and Pottamus, the big black and white Yak, true to form, put on the cutie-patootie mask and followed him around like a puppy dog.Hmmmm....I have to wonder if she knows that when she does that, she ensures her place in my life......
I'd just like to take a moment....
...to ponder how we got stuck with that jackass, monkey of a president. I sure as hell didn't vote for him.
(Dad, this one's for you...)
(Dad, this one's for you...)
Anywhere but here...
I never thought I'd be so thankful to be somewhere I never dreamed I'd be.
An addict, recovering, one day at a time. So blessed. An answer to the question I'd always asked, "Who are you and what are you doing here?" and a solution to the life-long problem that was me.
The Hell and Pain, such a perfect stepping-off point, for the greatest moments of my life.
I never once, in all the dozens of diaries I kept as a girl, predicted this would be where I'd end up. What a long, strange trip it's been. Thank God for unanswered prayers, potholes and detours.
If I could choose, from all the places in all the world, I'd choose this place.
A meeting, a family, a home.
An addict, recovering, one day at a time. So blessed. An answer to the question I'd always asked, "Who are you and what are you doing here?" and a solution to the life-long problem that was me.
The Hell and Pain, such a perfect stepping-off point, for the greatest moments of my life.
I never once, in all the dozens of diaries I kept as a girl, predicted this would be where I'd end up. What a long, strange trip it's been. Thank God for unanswered prayers, potholes and detours.
If I could choose, from all the places in all the world, I'd choose this place.
A meeting, a family, a home.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Regrets
Another blast from the past. Here was a good-bye letter I wrote to my late Jimmy when I had a little over 100 days clean. I am so thankful that I am in a more serene place today.
Dearest Jimmy,
I can't change the past. No matter how much I want to go back there. I can't. I have to accept that. I have to accept that I was the person that I was then and I cannot change that. You are dead. I cannot make you alive so that I can make amends to you. I know that it would be more convenient for me if that were the case. It would be more convenient for me if you didn't get your fucking head blown off in the prime of your life and at the height of my addiction so that my selfish self-centered ass wouldn't have to be sitting here two years later worried about how you wasted the last three and a half years of your beautiful life with some sorry piece of shit that wrote such horrible things about you just a few short months before you died. I said in the pages of my journal that I never loved you. That I just wanted out. That you embarrassed me. That I wasn't attracted to you. That we never touched or kissed - that there was no love there anymore. I don't remember that, baby. I don't remember writing such hateful things. I'm so fucking sorry. I was so sick. I was the embarrassment - and still, still you didn't leave me. I wasn't functioning at all and still you loved me. Things got better just before you died, didn't they? I can hardly remember...it's been so long. I can remember just a week or two of us getting along really well - almost like a blessing. Things were really bad there for a while, for a long time, but I feel like right before you left - those last two weeks or so, we had a really good time, didn't we? At Maureen's wedding, at the Halloween party, the day before you died when you stopped by at lunch to say goodbye and do your happy dance...what a fucking blessing. I mean a blessing straight from God. But, before that...the shit I put you through. I am so ashamed. My behavior was inexcusable. I held you to bullshit standards. I expected you to be 100% honest with me and then I was dishonest as hell. I tried to control you and manipulate you and change you into someone you could never be...never stopping for one second to simply enjoy the person you were. Inexcusable. I don't understand how you put up with me. Why did you? Why, baby? I don't understand. Where you afraid that I would die without you? Did you feel sorry for me? Did you feel trapped? Did you think that I would someday get better? I have so many unanswered questions. So many unresolved issues. Do I just let them go? Do I just accept that that chapter of my life will just have to go unfinished? No closure? But I have a writer's mind. I can't just leave a chapter unfinished.....can I?
Dearest Jimmy,
I can't change the past. No matter how much I want to go back there. I can't. I have to accept that. I have to accept that I was the person that I was then and I cannot change that. You are dead. I cannot make you alive so that I can make amends to you. I know that it would be more convenient for me if that were the case. It would be more convenient for me if you didn't get your fucking head blown off in the prime of your life and at the height of my addiction so that my selfish self-centered ass wouldn't have to be sitting here two years later worried about how you wasted the last three and a half years of your beautiful life with some sorry piece of shit that wrote such horrible things about you just a few short months before you died. I said in the pages of my journal that I never loved you. That I just wanted out. That you embarrassed me. That I wasn't attracted to you. That we never touched or kissed - that there was no love there anymore. I don't remember that, baby. I don't remember writing such hateful things. I'm so fucking sorry. I was so sick. I was the embarrassment - and still, still you didn't leave me. I wasn't functioning at all and still you loved me. Things got better just before you died, didn't they? I can hardly remember...it's been so long. I can remember just a week or two of us getting along really well - almost like a blessing. Things were really bad there for a while, for a long time, but I feel like right before you left - those last two weeks or so, we had a really good time, didn't we? At Maureen's wedding, at the Halloween party, the day before you died when you stopped by at lunch to say goodbye and do your happy dance...what a fucking blessing. I mean a blessing straight from God. But, before that...the shit I put you through. I am so ashamed. My behavior was inexcusable. I held you to bullshit standards. I expected you to be 100% honest with me and then I was dishonest as hell. I tried to control you and manipulate you and change you into someone you could never be...never stopping for one second to simply enjoy the person you were. Inexcusable. I don't understand how you put up with me. Why did you? Why, baby? I don't understand. Where you afraid that I would die without you? Did you feel sorry for me? Did you feel trapped? Did you think that I would someday get better? I have so many unanswered questions. So many unresolved issues. Do I just let them go? Do I just accept that that chapter of my life will just have to go unfinished? No closure? But I have a writer's mind. I can't just leave a chapter unfinished.....can I?
Nana Belle
BEHOLD!!! Another double-nookie trance.
She got a chicken-nookie from Gammy for Valentine's day. Thanks Gammy.
Quote of the day
Suffering and joy teach us, if we allow them, how to make the leap of empathy, which transports us into the soul and heart of another person. ln those transparent moments we know other people's joys and sorrows, and we care about their concerns as if they were our own.
~Fritz Williams
~Fritz Williams
Suffering love...
A dear friend is going through a hefty dose of "life on life's terms". I hear her saying that she feels alone because of the specifics of her current struggle. I can relate. I have often felt like nobody could possibly understand what I go through with one struggle or another, because my struggles are so personal and specific to me. My favorite book is Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff. It was written in response to the death of his son. It reads like a journal of his experience and follows him from despair to hope. He comes to terms with suffering during his process, and not just his suffering, but the commonality in all human suffering.
He writes:
We are one in suffering. Some are wealthy, some bright; some athletic, some admired. But we all suffer. For we all prize and love and in this present existence of ours, prizing and loving yield suffering. Love in our world is suffering love. Some do not suffer much, though, for they do not love much. Suffering is for the loving. If I hadn't loved him, there wouldn't be this agony.
This, said Jesus, is the command of the Holy One: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." In commanding us to love, God invites us to suffer.
pg 89
The one who does not see God's suffering does not see his love. God is suffering love. So suffering is down at the center of things, deep down where the meaning is. Suffering is the meaning of our world.
For Love is the meaning. And Love suffers. The tears of God are the meaning of history.
pg 90
Suffering is the shout of "No" by one's whole existence to that over which one suffers - the shout of "No" by nerves and gut and gland and heart to pain, to death, to injustice, to depression, to hunger, to humiliation, to bondage, to abandonment. And sometimes, when the cry is intense, there emerges a radiance which elsewhere seldom appears: a glow of courage, of love, of insight, of selflessness, of faith. In that radiance we see best what humanity was meant to be.
pg 96
In the valley of suffering, despair and bitterness are brewed. But there also character is made. The valley of suffering is the vale of soul-making.
pg 97
In all our afflictions he is afflicted,
and the angel of his presence saves us;
in his love and pity he redeems us;
he lifts us up and carries us all our days. Isaiah 63:9
He bears our griefs and carries our sorrows;
by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:4, 5
He writes:
We are one in suffering. Some are wealthy, some bright; some athletic, some admired. But we all suffer. For we all prize and love and in this present existence of ours, prizing and loving yield suffering. Love in our world is suffering love. Some do not suffer much, though, for they do not love much. Suffering is for the loving. If I hadn't loved him, there wouldn't be this agony.
This, said Jesus, is the command of the Holy One: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." In commanding us to love, God invites us to suffer.
pg 89
The one who does not see God's suffering does not see his love. God is suffering love. So suffering is down at the center of things, deep down where the meaning is. Suffering is the meaning of our world.
For Love is the meaning. And Love suffers. The tears of God are the meaning of history.
pg 90
Suffering is the shout of "No" by one's whole existence to that over which one suffers - the shout of "No" by nerves and gut and gland and heart to pain, to death, to injustice, to depression, to hunger, to humiliation, to bondage, to abandonment. And sometimes, when the cry is intense, there emerges a radiance which elsewhere seldom appears: a glow of courage, of love, of insight, of selflessness, of faith. In that radiance we see best what humanity was meant to be.
pg 96
In the valley of suffering, despair and bitterness are brewed. But there also character is made. The valley of suffering is the vale of soul-making.
pg 97
In all our afflictions he is afflicted,
and the angel of his presence saves us;
in his love and pity he redeems us;
he lifts us up and carries us all our days. Isaiah 63:9
He bears our griefs and carries our sorrows;
by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:4, 5
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I've watched her learn how to fly...
I crawled into my first day of rehab scared out of my mind. I sat at the end of the table next to a girl. In her eyes I saw more pain than I'd seen since I had looked in the mirror that morning. I could tell that she'd crawled in here too. Her dark hair was tangled and pulled back and she fidgeted with an unlit cigarette and a lighter. There was no smoking inside. Break was two hours away.
She asked me, "Why are you here?" I told her, "Because I can't breath anymore." For a split second, her eyes softened.
We held onto each other for dear life. Two lost souls, desperate, afraid, shattered and determined. We were NOT going back to where we came from. And we didn't. And there were days that I made it through just because I told her I would. And she did the same.
We're still here. Holding onto each other for dear life. But we don't crawl anymore. We fly.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Quote of the day
When you have come to the end of all the light that you have, and you must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen.
Either there will be something solid for you to stand on,
or you will be taught how to fly. ~unknown
Either there will be something solid for you to stand on,
or you will be taught how to fly. ~unknown
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Never alone, never again...
Having just returned from our NA group's Valentine's Dance, I thought I would post some pics for Todd! You were missed, love!!!
David and Amanda
Rebecca and Michelle
Some hot, sexy lady and Pope
Amanda, some hot, sexy lady...and Michelle i.e. Three hot, sexy ladies...
Michelle and Pope
Lindsay and MB
Will and Christina
Jeff and Pamela
Jeff, John, Brad and Jim
Christina and MB
Tina and Nolan
Some hot, sexy lady and Anne
Brad, Elton and Eric
P.S. Michelle, I have had these photos copywritten, but would be happy to let you use them on your blog for a small fee....let me know and I will email you the contract.
David and Amanda
Rebecca and Michelle
Some hot, sexy lady and Pope
Amanda, some hot, sexy lady...and Michelle i.e. Three hot, sexy ladies...
Michelle and Pope
Lindsay and MB
Will and Christina
Jeff and Pamela
Jeff, John, Brad and Jim
Christina and MB
Tina and Nolan
Some hot, sexy lady and Anne
Brad, Elton and Eric
P.S. Michelle, I have had these photos copywritten, but would be happy to let you use them on your blog for a small fee....let me know and I will email you the contract.
Friday, February 17, 2006
A blast from the past
I just spent the evening reading some old journaling and EARLY stepwork. We're talking like 90 days clean stuff. What a TRIP! Here is an old favorite of mine.
Written 10/18/02 at 3 months and 15 days clean
It seems such a simple question..."Who am I?"...I say the words out loud, "Who am I?" My lips form the words, but they hesitate. "Who am I?" These words bring fear to my mind and to my heart. Why? Again...it seems like such a simple question. "Who am I?" After 28 years, shouldn't I have some idea of who I am? Haven't I answered this question dozens of times before? Hell, thousands of times? But what have I said? How have I defined myself?
The reality sinks in. My stomach twists and turns and sickens. My body aches as the fog lifts. I have answered this question thousands of times in the past. I have defined myself over and over and over again. But I have twisted the words of the question to read not, "Who am I?" but rather, "Who do you want me to be?"
Are you a caretaker? Are you looking fore someone who is lost and vulnerable? In need of being rescued? I can be that. I am a sad little girl, abandoned by her father, neglected by her mother. Showered with material posessions to overcompensate for the love she never recieved. Abandoned over and over again by the only man who was supposed to love her unconditionally. He was too busy. Too wrapped up in his fantasy life of women and music and money and power. Too busy to stop and love his only daughter. Too caught up in the fast life to tell his little girl that she was good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to deserve love from a man, so she grew up thinking that she wasn't good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to deserve love from a man. I am that sad and desperately lonely little girl if you want to be the person to show me that I deserve to be loved.
And I'm a victim. If you'd rather abuse me, that's just fine too. I've been emotionally battered in the past so that's nothing new to me. I can take it. Dish some more out on me - I can play that game. I'm strong, I won't be broken. In fact, there's a part of me that feels that I deserve it - I even thrive on it - or else I wouldn't come back for more again and again in my life. If you're looking for a friend to fuck over, I'm your girl. If you want to pretend to fall in love with me and then stomp the shit out of me...that works too. I can play your victim. That role suits me just fine. I can manipulate that situation to work in my favor just as well as any other. I have tested it over time. I thrive on the chaos. Ya, it hurts...but I love it just the same. I'm a sick bitch and I'll keep coming back for more. I like pain. I know pain.
I'm a widow. I knew love once, though I wasn't aware of it at the time. I found a person who loved me in spite of me. I tried to push him away with everything that was in me. I tried everything. I just didn't have the strength to walk away. He wasn't perfect. Nobody is. But he loved me. I'll say it again. He loved me in spite of me. At that time in my life, for those four years, that was who I was. I was the woman Jimmy loved. And I wanted to run as far and as fast from that as I could. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't want to run from him. He was the only man who has ever really loved me, and I didn't want it. I didn't feel that I deserved it. I couldn't handle it. And God took him away. One morning, one split second and he was gone. Just like that. He died and the only love I ever had in my life up and vanished. I am the woman who lost her first love, her only love, in a horrible tragic accident, before she ever even knew what love was. I can be that tragic love story if you want me to be.
But there's more to me than tragedy.
I've grown sick and tired of my own shit over the years. Most of the time, I'd rather save you from your problems. Do you need a counselor? A best friend? A mother figure? I'm your girl. I will listen for hours. And I don't mean just sit there and stare blankly and nod - I will fucking listen. I want to know who you are. I want to go where you've been. I want to feel the things you've felt. Take me with you on your past journeys. I'll stay up all night with you and listen, listen, listen. I truly want to hear your story. Because, you see, it takes me out of myslef. For a moment, I can be you, and then I don't have to be me. I want to get inside your head...I don't necessarily need to mess around with what's up there, not all the time...but if I'm in your head then I don't have to be in mine. So take me with you. Let me come along for the ride. I'll be whoever you want me to be. If you want me to laugh with you, we'll laugh. If you need somebody to cry with, we'll cry together - rest assured...no bullshit. They're real tears. I have reserves. Or if you just want to crawl into my lap like a child and stay a while, you can do that too. I will hold you as long as you need to be held. I can be strong for you. The way nobody was strong for me. It makes me feel good to be strong for you. Because that's who I can be for you. I can be strong.
I have more love and gentleness and kindness and compassion in me than most people have ever seen. At least that is what I would have you believe if that's what you want to see in me. In reality, I am empty. Not capable of receiving love so how can I give it away? But I'll try. I'll drain what little bit of myself I do have until I'm dry to the bone...just to please you. Just to make you smile. Just to make you feel warm and fuzzy and safe for a moment. Because all I have ever wanted to be is nothing more or less than that loving woman, compassionate, gentle and kind to all of God's creatures, even though I've never had the capability to do that. You just say the word and I will kill myself to be that for you.
I can save the world, too. I will devote ten years of my life to studying Biology because that's what I think the world needs me to do. Just because the world needs saving. The forests are dying and the planet is sick so I will put my own needs aside and save the world. Never mind that I am sick and I can't finish a class to save my life becuase I'm high all the time...I'll be damned if I'm going to drop out of school - Hell No! I'm a college student because that's what they tell me I should be. I'm too "bright" and too "gifted" to go without a college degree so damnit, that's what I'll be for ten years. When asked about what I'll do with this degree, if and when I ever actually complete it, I can give a very convincing answer about how I will passionately seek to change the world. And I mean it when I say it. I am not being at all dishonest. I truly would like to single-handedly end rainforest destruction and heal the planet, but deep down, I know that first I need to heal myself. But I will lose myself in my quest to save the world as long as I don't have to look at me.
I could go on and on giving answers to the question, "What do you want me to be?" but that was not the question I set out to answer. The one I set out to answer was "Who am I?" Who am I when I am alone in a room? When there is no one there, either in the flesh or in my head. Who am I when I don't have a glass pipe to my lips or a pen in my hands or the TV on or music playing or a book open or a pill in my mouth or a drink in my fist or my past or my future on my mind? Who am I when it is just me in the here and now and nothing else, when I am not trying to be the sad, desperately lonely little girl or the victim or the widow or the counselor or the best friend or the mother figure or the loving and compassionate woman or the savior of the world...Who am I when I am just myself?
The truth is that I am all of these things and none of these things. I am so much more than all that, and so much less. I am full of fear, but I have more courage and strentgh in me than I ever thought possible. I have pain, but there is also a great capacity for joy that I am just beginning to scratch the surface of. And there is an ability to give and receive love that I don't fully understand yet, but I know it's there. And if I stay clean, I might be able to tap into it someday. There is good in me. And there is evil.
When it comes down to it, I need to have the willingness to be able to admit that I don't know who I am today. And that's OK. I need to admit that without too much fear. I can't be so afraid of it that I'm not willing to face up to it and head fearlesssly down the path of self-discovery, as rocky as it may prove to be. I believe that the NA program will give me a greater understanding of who I am. And, just for today, I am not afraid to ask the question "Who am I?", even if I do not yet have all the answers.
Written 10/18/02 at 3 months and 15 days clean
Who am I?
It seems such a simple question..."Who am I?"...I say the words out loud, "Who am I?" My lips form the words, but they hesitate. "Who am I?" These words bring fear to my mind and to my heart. Why? Again...it seems like such a simple question. "Who am I?" After 28 years, shouldn't I have some idea of who I am? Haven't I answered this question dozens of times before? Hell, thousands of times? But what have I said? How have I defined myself?
The reality sinks in. My stomach twists and turns and sickens. My body aches as the fog lifts. I have answered this question thousands of times in the past. I have defined myself over and over and over again. But I have twisted the words of the question to read not, "Who am I?" but rather, "Who do you want me to be?"
Are you a caretaker? Are you looking fore someone who is lost and vulnerable? In need of being rescued? I can be that. I am a sad little girl, abandoned by her father, neglected by her mother. Showered with material posessions to overcompensate for the love she never recieved. Abandoned over and over again by the only man who was supposed to love her unconditionally. He was too busy. Too wrapped up in his fantasy life of women and music and money and power. Too busy to stop and love his only daughter. Too caught up in the fast life to tell his little girl that she was good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to deserve love from a man, so she grew up thinking that she wasn't good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to deserve love from a man. I am that sad and desperately lonely little girl if you want to be the person to show me that I deserve to be loved.
And I'm a victim. If you'd rather abuse me, that's just fine too. I've been emotionally battered in the past so that's nothing new to me. I can take it. Dish some more out on me - I can play that game. I'm strong, I won't be broken. In fact, there's a part of me that feels that I deserve it - I even thrive on it - or else I wouldn't come back for more again and again in my life. If you're looking for a friend to fuck over, I'm your girl. If you want to pretend to fall in love with me and then stomp the shit out of me...that works too. I can play your victim. That role suits me just fine. I can manipulate that situation to work in my favor just as well as any other. I have tested it over time. I thrive on the chaos. Ya, it hurts...but I love it just the same. I'm a sick bitch and I'll keep coming back for more. I like pain. I know pain.
I'm a widow. I knew love once, though I wasn't aware of it at the time. I found a person who loved me in spite of me. I tried to push him away with everything that was in me. I tried everything. I just didn't have the strength to walk away. He wasn't perfect. Nobody is. But he loved me. I'll say it again. He loved me in spite of me. At that time in my life, for those four years, that was who I was. I was the woman Jimmy loved. And I wanted to run as far and as fast from that as I could. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't want to run from him. He was the only man who has ever really loved me, and I didn't want it. I didn't feel that I deserved it. I couldn't handle it. And God took him away. One morning, one split second and he was gone. Just like that. He died and the only love I ever had in my life up and vanished. I am the woman who lost her first love, her only love, in a horrible tragic accident, before she ever even knew what love was. I can be that tragic love story if you want me to be.
But there's more to me than tragedy.
I've grown sick and tired of my own shit over the years. Most of the time, I'd rather save you from your problems. Do you need a counselor? A best friend? A mother figure? I'm your girl. I will listen for hours. And I don't mean just sit there and stare blankly and nod - I will fucking listen. I want to know who you are. I want to go where you've been. I want to feel the things you've felt. Take me with you on your past journeys. I'll stay up all night with you and listen, listen, listen. I truly want to hear your story. Because, you see, it takes me out of myslef. For a moment, I can be you, and then I don't have to be me. I want to get inside your head...I don't necessarily need to mess around with what's up there, not all the time...but if I'm in your head then I don't have to be in mine. So take me with you. Let me come along for the ride. I'll be whoever you want me to be. If you want me to laugh with you, we'll laugh. If you need somebody to cry with, we'll cry together - rest assured...no bullshit. They're real tears. I have reserves. Or if you just want to crawl into my lap like a child and stay a while, you can do that too. I will hold you as long as you need to be held. I can be strong for you. The way nobody was strong for me. It makes me feel good to be strong for you. Because that's who I can be for you. I can be strong.
I have more love and gentleness and kindness and compassion in me than most people have ever seen. At least that is what I would have you believe if that's what you want to see in me. In reality, I am empty. Not capable of receiving love so how can I give it away? But I'll try. I'll drain what little bit of myself I do have until I'm dry to the bone...just to please you. Just to make you smile. Just to make you feel warm and fuzzy and safe for a moment. Because all I have ever wanted to be is nothing more or less than that loving woman, compassionate, gentle and kind to all of God's creatures, even though I've never had the capability to do that. You just say the word and I will kill myself to be that for you.
I can save the world, too. I will devote ten years of my life to studying Biology because that's what I think the world needs me to do. Just because the world needs saving. The forests are dying and the planet is sick so I will put my own needs aside and save the world. Never mind that I am sick and I can't finish a class to save my life becuase I'm high all the time...I'll be damned if I'm going to drop out of school - Hell No! I'm a college student because that's what they tell me I should be. I'm too "bright" and too "gifted" to go without a college degree so damnit, that's what I'll be for ten years. When asked about what I'll do with this degree, if and when I ever actually complete it, I can give a very convincing answer about how I will passionately seek to change the world. And I mean it when I say it. I am not being at all dishonest. I truly would like to single-handedly end rainforest destruction and heal the planet, but deep down, I know that first I need to heal myself. But I will lose myself in my quest to save the world as long as I don't have to look at me.
I could go on and on giving answers to the question, "What do you want me to be?" but that was not the question I set out to answer. The one I set out to answer was "Who am I?" Who am I when I am alone in a room? When there is no one there, either in the flesh or in my head. Who am I when I don't have a glass pipe to my lips or a pen in my hands or the TV on or music playing or a book open or a pill in my mouth or a drink in my fist or my past or my future on my mind? Who am I when it is just me in the here and now and nothing else, when I am not trying to be the sad, desperately lonely little girl or the victim or the widow or the counselor or the best friend or the mother figure or the loving and compassionate woman or the savior of the world...Who am I when I am just myself?
The truth is that I am all of these things and none of these things. I am so much more than all that, and so much less. I am full of fear, but I have more courage and strentgh in me than I ever thought possible. I have pain, but there is also a great capacity for joy that I am just beginning to scratch the surface of. And there is an ability to give and receive love that I don't fully understand yet, but I know it's there. And if I stay clean, I might be able to tap into it someday. There is good in me. And there is evil.
When it comes down to it, I need to have the willingness to be able to admit that I don't know who I am today. And that's OK. I need to admit that without too much fear. I can't be so afraid of it that I'm not willing to face up to it and head fearlesssly down the path of self-discovery, as rocky as it may prove to be. I believe that the NA program will give me a greater understanding of who I am. And, just for today, I am not afraid to ask the question "Who am I?", even if I do not yet have all the answers.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Quote of the day
I wouldn't mind dying in a plane crash. It'd be a good way to go. I don't want to die in my sleep, or of old age, or OD...I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I don't want to miss it. ~Jim Morrison
Fallen Sister
We lost another sister today. Another addict who didn't make it. Her name was Mendy and she made the choice to use one more, and her body was found this morning. She made the choice to leave treatment on Monday with her tax return check in hand and today she is dead.
I don't know what is more tragic; the fact that she died or the fact that she died knowing that there is a better way of life out there. Mendy quit five minutes before the miracle happened.
As the people at that other fellowship told me, there, but by the grace of God, go I. As the speaker at the NA convention last weekend shared, she gave us the ultimate Twelfth step. Our Twelfth step reads, "Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs." She gave her life so someone else doesn't have to. She carried the message that we have a choice today. We have the freedom to choose life today.
In the world of addiction, to choose to use is to choose death. Our Basic Text tells us that, "For us, to use is to die, often in more ways than one." I know that I was in a state of decay when I got clean. I had been dead inside for years and I was slowly rotting from the inside out. It was only a matter of time before I would have disappeared from life all together.
In the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous, I found hope. I found freedom from active addiction. I found a relationship with the God of my understanding. I found a family. I found joy. I found freedom from the bondage of self. I found LIFE.
And just think, if I'da used, I'da missed the whole thing.
And Just for today....
I choose LIFE.
I don't know what is more tragic; the fact that she died or the fact that she died knowing that there is a better way of life out there. Mendy quit five minutes before the miracle happened.
As the people at that other fellowship told me, there, but by the grace of God, go I. As the speaker at the NA convention last weekend shared, she gave us the ultimate Twelfth step. Our Twelfth step reads, "Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs." She gave her life so someone else doesn't have to. She carried the message that we have a choice today. We have the freedom to choose life today.
In the world of addiction, to choose to use is to choose death. Our Basic Text tells us that, "For us, to use is to die, often in more ways than one." I know that I was in a state of decay when I got clean. I had been dead inside for years and I was slowly rotting from the inside out. It was only a matter of time before I would have disappeared from life all together.
In the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous, I found hope. I found freedom from active addiction. I found a relationship with the God of my understanding. I found a family. I found joy. I found freedom from the bondage of self. I found LIFE.
And just think, if I'da used, I'da missed the whole thing.
And Just for today....
I choose LIFE.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Old behavior...
They say this is a program of progress, not perfection. So I am not supposed to beat myself up when I backslide into a tornado of my old behavior. Hmmph.
Today, I misinterpreted what somebody said to me (via email) and proceeded to bitch-slap this person (via email) in a terribly sharp and not-nice manner. Not only that, but I stewed about it for about an hour and a half. I thought I was farther along than this. I have, in my past, had a pattern of always assuming the worst and blowing up on people left and right. But that behavior was just that...in the past. Today has been an off day, i.e. up in my head about the whole job thing, feeling under par physically and I took it out on an innocent stranger. That's not OK. I made amends, but I am still disturbed by my wreckless behavior. It is amazing how quickly we can revert back to our old ways when we are not feeling spiritually fit.
Also, I am planning on returning my new jeans in a couple of weeks because I am shrinking so fast that they are already loose on me. Is that wrong?
Just for today... In true addict form, I will practice these principles in most of my affairs, provided that I don't need to return jeans that I have already worn for a smaller size.
Today, I misinterpreted what somebody said to me (via email) and proceeded to bitch-slap this person (via email) in a terribly sharp and not-nice manner. Not only that, but I stewed about it for about an hour and a half. I thought I was farther along than this. I have, in my past, had a pattern of always assuming the worst and blowing up on people left and right. But that behavior was just that...in the past. Today has been an off day, i.e. up in my head about the whole job thing, feeling under par physically and I took it out on an innocent stranger. That's not OK. I made amends, but I am still disturbed by my wreckless behavior. It is amazing how quickly we can revert back to our old ways when we are not feeling spiritually fit.
Also, I am planning on returning my new jeans in a couple of weeks because I am shrinking so fast that they are already loose on me. Is that wrong?
Just for today... In true addict form, I will practice these principles in most of my affairs, provided that I don't need to return jeans that I have already worn for a smaller size.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Movin' on up...
I thought that I would take this opportunity to announce a business venture that I intend to embark on in the near future with my, as of right now, unaware but surely persuadable sponsee, Michelle. As I expect our little company (which will be started sometime soon) to experience record-breaking sales during our first quarter, I (we) intend to go public at some point. I thought that I would give my "blog minions" (as it where...all 2 of you) the heads up on this rare financial opportunity (this isn't "insider trading", is it?).
Oh yes, my sweet minions, I'm movin' on up, and I would love nothing better than to take
you with me.
I will keep you posted.
Just for today...
I will focus on the reality of all situations, not the fantasy, and stay in the moment.
Oh yes, my sweet minions, I'm movin' on up, and I would love nothing better than to take
you with me.
I will keep you posted.
Just for today...
I will focus on the reality of all situations, not the fantasy, and stay in the moment.
My new favorite babies...
My oldest gal pal, Lauren, aka Lola, had twin girls just about a year ago. I FINALLY got my sorry ass into Chi-town to see them.
May I present the world's cutest twin girls......
Jordyn and Abagail Marks
May I present the world's cutest twin girls......
Jordyn and Abagail Marks
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
I am closing my eyes....
And I am picturing myself on my horse, on the beach, bareback, wind blowing through my hair, the rhythm of the waves lapping at the shore.......
and I am serene......
and I am serene......
Howie
Just in case you were wondering, Howie (the smaller one) has adjusted quite well to the fact that he has no balls or fingers.
Quote of the day.
Our lives are not determined by what happens to us but by how we react to what happens, not by what life brings to us, but by the attitude we bring to life. A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events, and outcomes. It is a catalyst, a spark that creates extraordinary results.
~Anonymous
~Anonymous
The end of all things?
Breathing.....
Centering......
I just got off the phone with my Program Director. The news was not good.
See, I work for The Man. I work for The Man in the field of ecology as a part of a statewide exotic insect suppression program. A cooperative effort between the federal, state, county and local governments.
The feds don't want to cooperate anymore. GW has been kind enough to cut over half of our funding. I just might be out of a job. Ouch.
Shockingly, I am not losing my mind. I must admit that I do have a pit in my tummy, but I have to say that I am suprisingly serene.
I guess all of this "footwork" that I have been doing over the years in recovery is paying off. Life on life's terms is hitting me hard and I am responding with spiritual principles! Wow. This shit really works.
Just for today....
I find that I am powerless over this situation and I accept that. I have faith that I will respond humbly and to the best of my ability and make a wholehearted effort to find alternate funding using humility and the professional skills that I have acquired over time. I believe that as long as I keep doing the next right thing, things will work out as they are meant to and I trust that I will be OK, regardless of the outcome. I surrender myself to the will of my higher power, and will remain teachable to what this situation has to offer me.
I have gratitude for spiritual principles and the tools of recovery that are keeping me from completely losing my sanity in this present moment.
Also, I will accept that because we have a monkey for a president, it is more important that we have lots of big dicks, I mean missiles, in order to exacerbate terrorism, I mean eradicate terrorism and secure the oil empires of certain families, I mean freedom of the world, than to be ecologically, and for that matter, fiscally responsible here at home.
And remember, kids, "resentments rot the container they're in."
Centering......
I just got off the phone with my Program Director. The news was not good.
See, I work for The Man. I work for The Man in the field of ecology as a part of a statewide exotic insect suppression program. A cooperative effort between the federal, state, county and local governments.
The feds don't want to cooperate anymore. GW has been kind enough to cut over half of our funding. I just might be out of a job. Ouch.
Shockingly, I am not losing my mind. I must admit that I do have a pit in my tummy, but I have to say that I am suprisingly serene.
I guess all of this "footwork" that I have been doing over the years in recovery is paying off. Life on life's terms is hitting me hard and I am responding with spiritual principles! Wow. This shit really works.
Just for today....
I find that I am powerless over this situation and I accept that. I have faith that I will respond humbly and to the best of my ability and make a wholehearted effort to find alternate funding using humility and the professional skills that I have acquired over time. I believe that as long as I keep doing the next right thing, things will work out as they are meant to and I trust that I will be OK, regardless of the outcome. I surrender myself to the will of my higher power, and will remain teachable to what this situation has to offer me.
I have gratitude for spiritual principles and the tools of recovery that are keeping me from completely losing my sanity in this present moment.
Also, I will accept that because we have a monkey for a president, it is more important that we have lots of big dicks, I mean missiles, in order to exacerbate terrorism, I mean eradicate terrorism and secure the oil empires of certain families, I mean freedom of the world, than to be ecologically, and for that matter, fiscally responsible here at home.
And remember, kids, "resentments rot the container they're in."
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Rigorous honesty...
So, I am in my fabulous suite at the Radisson Hotel in KZoo, MI for the area's Narcotics Anonymous Convention and earlier this evening I found myself in an honesty dilemma...
Do I tell my fiance' that I have been sneaking cigarettes behind his back and face the wrath or do I go ahead and just practice the spiritual principal of "what he doesn't know won't hurt him"? Well, the speakers at this silly convention have thought it best to smack me in the face with that whole, "practice these principles in ALL of my affairs" bullshit, which, as the phrase might indicate, extends to my love affairs as well. Hmmmmph. How rude. They need to work their own programs.
Of course, none of this was directed at me personally, per say, as the rooms were full of anywhere between 20 and 75 OTHER recovering addicts, but still. The nerve of some people.
So I blurted out the brutal truth and now he isn't speaking to me. Oh well. He'll get over it. And I should quit smoking altogether because if I have proven one thing in my life it is that I can use NOTHING in moderation (even lip gloss). But the good news is that I feel purged of my dishonesty and am therefore going to bed a better person as a result of it. Even if I do stink like smoke.
Just for today.....
I will practice rigorous honesty in ALL of my affairs, even though other people can be unwilling to accept me in all of my glorious disease manifestations because some of them make me smell bad.
Do I tell my fiance' that I have been sneaking cigarettes behind his back and face the wrath or do I go ahead and just practice the spiritual principal of "what he doesn't know won't hurt him"? Well, the speakers at this silly convention have thought it best to smack me in the face with that whole, "practice these principles in ALL of my affairs" bullshit, which, as the phrase might indicate, extends to my love affairs as well. Hmmmmph. How rude. They need to work their own programs.
Of course, none of this was directed at me personally, per say, as the rooms were full of anywhere between 20 and 75 OTHER recovering addicts, but still. The nerve of some people.
So I blurted out the brutal truth and now he isn't speaking to me. Oh well. He'll get over it. And I should quit smoking altogether because if I have proven one thing in my life it is that I can use NOTHING in moderation (even lip gloss). But the good news is that I feel purged of my dishonesty and am therefore going to bed a better person as a result of it. Even if I do stink like smoke.
Just for today.....
I will practice rigorous honesty in ALL of my affairs, even though other people can be unwilling to accept me in all of my glorious disease manifestations because some of them make me smell bad.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
My baby girl.
The good news is that she has successfully made it through her second knee surgery. The bad news is that I might need to take out a second mortgage on my house.
But that face.....
Quote of the Day, in memoriam.
Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated. ~Coretta Scott King
The enemy comes at night to rob and steal.....
Coretta Scott King died last night. It was the hot topic on NPR all day today.
I was well aware that active addiction had robbed me. Robbed me of self. Robbed me of thought and spirit. Robbed me of progress and goodwill. Robbed me of God. Of knowledge and reason. Robbed me of life.
I had a bittersweet moment today. When I was 18 and a freshman on scholarship at Augustana College, my addiction took hold of me. Hard. At some point during that year, Coretta Scott King came and spoke on my campus. I went. I don't remember a word of it.
The widow of a legend and a hell of a force for change of her own right, and I don't remember a word she said when I was in the very same room with her. Not one.
Just for today......
I will accept what has been robbed from me, the opportunities and the experiences that today, I would have cherished, but yesterday were a blurr. I will live today like each moment matters. Like each word is a gift. And I will have gratitude.
I was well aware that active addiction had robbed me. Robbed me of self. Robbed me of thought and spirit. Robbed me of progress and goodwill. Robbed me of God. Of knowledge and reason. Robbed me of life.
I had a bittersweet moment today. When I was 18 and a freshman on scholarship at Augustana College, my addiction took hold of me. Hard. At some point during that year, Coretta Scott King came and spoke on my campus. I went. I don't remember a word of it.
The widow of a legend and a hell of a force for change of her own right, and I don't remember a word she said when I was in the very same room with her. Not one.
Just for today......
I will accept what has been robbed from me, the opportunities and the experiences that today, I would have cherished, but yesterday were a blurr. I will live today like each moment matters. Like each word is a gift. And I will have gratitude.
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