It occurred to me last week, and this wasn't all to difficult to realize, that my six-month mark is the day after my birthday. That means every six months I will have a birthday - my actual day and that which AA celebrates as a year of sobriety.
Last Wednesday was my 4-month mark, which unfortunately, like the month before, went by without any fanfare. I'm not talking ticker-tape as a necessity, but for the past couple months there have been preoccupying thoughts at this certain time, and I didn't even think about it until the next night at my weekly meeting (I really like this meeting because even though there are about 275 attendees, I feel much more centered, at peace, and alone than at any of the smaller meetings I attend.)
Perhaps ironically, perhaps not, after writing a friend to say that overall things seemed just fine (on the night I completely forgot was significant) is when life decided to remind me how rough things really are. Thursday was pushing an emotional boulder up an active Vesuvius and all day was spent knowing that there was nothing I could do to escape the pain. Without alcohol there is no easy escape, as artificial and temporary that means would offer. There is no escape anymore, and rightly not. Life is not to escape, but to experience, not matter how unbearable it may seem at that moment. By Friday morning, it became akin to walking on a broken ankle, alone and far from help. You can't do damn thing but move forward. Jolts were surging through my body, winces and grimaces, pangs of loneliness and deep, deep breaths. I am fortunate enough in life to know myself well enough, especially now, to recognize this is only temporary, and at times beautiful. The beauty I found was in the fact that no matter how heavy my heart became, it never felt sunk, beaten, or empty. I could feel that in all of these moments of weakness there was something holding me still, keeping my heart in my chest and air in my lungs. I could feel this comfort wrapped around me and inside me, to keep a modicum of strength till it blew over. I would like to think this was my own personal power, and perhaps in the grander scheme it really was, but deep down I know it is the higher power I surrendered to four months ago. At work later that day I received two pieces of news that turned everything around. I passed the test.
I've always felt that God does not exist externally but is there within us every second, and that praying to the heavens is neglecting this idea because we do not give ourselves enough credit. It is experiences such as last week that bolster this opinion, that when we're in the really rough spots, when we feel the most alone and hungry, when the pain can be almost crippling, we find the power to not only move forward but look forward and know that in simply holding on, and accepting the sadness as real, it will work its course. It also reminded me that no matter how bad things seem, I can always remember that I walked out of the most frightening situation of my life on April 12th, 2009...and that's why don't like to forget those dates!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Perpetually Perplexed (this is going to ramble)
It's now in the fourth week of not knowing what the hell to say. It's very frustrating to have so much going on in my mind and absolutely nothing feels like cooperating. I can't believe this blog has remained inactive for so long. Everyday has been the same..."Let's write something tonight, anything will do, right?" You'd think.
Lately it has felt like simply existing. When considering the options that's not such a bad thing, but life has always been about dynamism, in many different directions. Perhaps this is what the Buddhists know, water over the stones. Mindfulness. Befriending both pain and pleasure. Perhaps this is a hint of the serenity I've been meditating on everyday for months. I was talking with a troubled friend recently and I told her that I don't tend to run with emotions anymore. The high peaks and dark valleys don't really exist anymore. The need to curb my anxiety with drinking certainly doesn't exist anymore. I tried to explain that the depression that she and I both experience can only affect us the way it does if we give it something on which to hold, energy on which to feed, a soul on which to step. Hearing someone speak of accepting pain with open arms sounds at first mad and quite ridiculous. Hey, it sounds the same after about the hundredth time, but eventually, and when you least expect, it begins to make a lot of sense. Just like when I was happy, but not ecstatic, about getting into school, I was upset, yet not devastated, when finding out yesterday that my financial aid is suspended because of the amount of time it took me to get back to school. I simply found what I needed to do and when. Not much and on Monday. Staying focused and calm, feeling the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, hearing and seeing just what is there and nothing more.
I've also been thinking a lot of "hope". I use it in everyday conversation, but lately it feels very likely wrong. For an optimistic word, it sure does carry an amazing amount of uncertainty. It seems so open-ended, so left up to chance and nothing more. If we grasp onto hope we must unfortunately take hopelessness as well. Personally, I've had enough of hopelessness, so there must be something other than hope. Faith outweighs hope, right? I'll try that for a while. Faith is belief in action. Faith requires action. I have beliefs, and I can actually visualize results of my faith. With hope, I cannot. Hope doesn't exactly necessitate action or thought or willingness. With paper and pencil you can say either "I hope I will draw a circle" or "I have faith that with deliberation and accuracy I will draw a circle." More work, better results.
This leads to the concept of "more" (I warned you this would ramble). People have always asked me why I keep such an minimalist approach to life. Very few clothes, very little furniture, very few words (in public, at least!) Thinking back on this, the explanation has been that there is less burden this way, less connection to the material, less holding me to any place or time. I've never kept anything I've written or drawn. I've no photos or letters. This was quite intentional, and I now consider it to be mental preparation for where I am now. Starting from scratch with the world, spending copious amounts of time on my own, staring down fears with no means of escape. It seems lonely and difficult, but I've never been more thankful for what I have, as little as that is, and the people in my life, as few as they may be. I don't ask life for more because it will come without asking when life is ready. It's not a reward for good behavior, it's just the way it is.
Live by faith and be thankful for that and those in my life. Pretty basic.
I'm done rambling. It's late and I don't even really remember what just happened.
Thanks for reading. Good night.
Lately it has felt like simply existing. When considering the options that's not such a bad thing, but life has always been about dynamism, in many different directions. Perhaps this is what the Buddhists know, water over the stones. Mindfulness. Befriending both pain and pleasure. Perhaps this is a hint of the serenity I've been meditating on everyday for months. I was talking with a troubled friend recently and I told her that I don't tend to run with emotions anymore. The high peaks and dark valleys don't really exist anymore. The need to curb my anxiety with drinking certainly doesn't exist anymore. I tried to explain that the depression that she and I both experience can only affect us the way it does if we give it something on which to hold, energy on which to feed, a soul on which to step. Hearing someone speak of accepting pain with open arms sounds at first mad and quite ridiculous. Hey, it sounds the same after about the hundredth time, but eventually, and when you least expect, it begins to make a lot of sense. Just like when I was happy, but not ecstatic, about getting into school, I was upset, yet not devastated, when finding out yesterday that my financial aid is suspended because of the amount of time it took me to get back to school. I simply found what I needed to do and when. Not much and on Monday. Staying focused and calm, feeling the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, hearing and seeing just what is there and nothing more.
I've also been thinking a lot of "hope". I use it in everyday conversation, but lately it feels very likely wrong. For an optimistic word, it sure does carry an amazing amount of uncertainty. It seems so open-ended, so left up to chance and nothing more. If we grasp onto hope we must unfortunately take hopelessness as well. Personally, I've had enough of hopelessness, so there must be something other than hope. Faith outweighs hope, right? I'll try that for a while. Faith is belief in action. Faith requires action. I have beliefs, and I can actually visualize results of my faith. With hope, I cannot. Hope doesn't exactly necessitate action or thought or willingness. With paper and pencil you can say either "I hope I will draw a circle" or "I have faith that with deliberation and accuracy I will draw a circle." More work, better results.
This leads to the concept of "more" (I warned you this would ramble). People have always asked me why I keep such an minimalist approach to life. Very few clothes, very little furniture, very few words (in public, at least!) Thinking back on this, the explanation has been that there is less burden this way, less connection to the material, less holding me to any place or time. I've never kept anything I've written or drawn. I've no photos or letters. This was quite intentional, and I now consider it to be mental preparation for where I am now. Starting from scratch with the world, spending copious amounts of time on my own, staring down fears with no means of escape. It seems lonely and difficult, but I've never been more thankful for what I have, as little as that is, and the people in my life, as few as they may be. I don't ask life for more because it will come without asking when life is ready. It's not a reward for good behavior, it's just the way it is.
Live by faith and be thankful for that and those in my life. Pretty basic.
I'm done rambling. It's late and I don't even really remember what just happened.
Thanks for reading. Good night.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Independence Day
I would like to wish everyone a great Independence Day celebration, whatever that might be. I like this holiday because it can be applied to not just the freedoms our country stands for, but also a life free of personal tyrannies. Sometimes this liberation is a chosen path when life is simply going wrong. Other times it can be thrust upon us when life appears to be going as planned. Whether or not we expect or appreciate it, whether or not it is a gentle push or a jarring blow, it comes because it should.
Everyone loses something very dear to them at some point in their in lives. I have spent the past year rebuilding after losing something I spent years working on. As time has taken me further away from that moment, I realize more and more how unhealthy it was for me to live in. No matter how beautiful I thought it was or could be, or how dedicated and supportive I thought I was or could be, or what dreams and desires I thought there were or could be, it disintegrated for a reason. I needed to be alone in the world in order to face my next challenge. I needed to break myself down to the point where none of it mattered. I needed the loss, the emptiness, the loneliness and the pain to be so raw and so real that the only possible next step was forward. Forward to healing. Forward to knowing. Forward to accepting. Forward to conquering. Forward to serenity. Forward and onward. Forward and onward.
Although we may lose something that was built upon the ideas of love, beauty, commitment, honesty, cooperation and respect, we should never lose the capacity to feel them again. To survive loss you must apply them to yourself. Learn to love yourself. Find beauty in yourself. Commit yourself. Be true to yourself. Don't fight yourself. Respect yourself.
In time you'll find that day you once considered the most devastating in your life is your own personal Independence Day.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Everyone loses something very dear to them at some point in their in lives. I have spent the past year rebuilding after losing something I spent years working on. As time has taken me further away from that moment, I realize more and more how unhealthy it was for me to live in. No matter how beautiful I thought it was or could be, or how dedicated and supportive I thought I was or could be, or what dreams and desires I thought there were or could be, it disintegrated for a reason. I needed to be alone in the world in order to face my next challenge. I needed to break myself down to the point where none of it mattered. I needed the loss, the emptiness, the loneliness and the pain to be so raw and so real that the only possible next step was forward. Forward to healing. Forward to knowing. Forward to accepting. Forward to conquering. Forward to serenity. Forward and onward. Forward and onward.
Although we may lose something that was built upon the ideas of love, beauty, commitment, honesty, cooperation and respect, we should never lose the capacity to feel them again. To survive loss you must apply them to yourself. Learn to love yourself. Find beauty in yourself. Commit yourself. Be true to yourself. Don't fight yourself. Respect yourself.
In time you'll find that day you once considered the most devastating in your life is your own personal Independence Day.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Sense That...
You're not simply moving forward through life, but exponentially through each obstacle.
Each challenge launches you farther and faster, straighter and truer, more streamlined and wider-reaching than before.
You're closer to the frequency of the energy around you.
Your posture is a little more natural and your gait is a little more confident.
These days are more intoxicating than any tipple could possibly provide.
This time could not have come at a better period in your life.
Every moment you feel more human than the last.
If you've made it through this past year, you can make it through the rest.
Everything that's been subtracted is less than what you've added.
The next breath will be deeper and fresher than expected.
There doesn't need to be a limit to anything.
At times a free-flow feels better than meter and rhyme.
The sun and the moon and the stars are always there.
This life is yours and yours alone.
You wouldn't exchange it for anything, anyway, anyhow.
Soon everyone will see exactly why.
Each challenge launches you farther and faster, straighter and truer, more streamlined and wider-reaching than before.
You're closer to the frequency of the energy around you.
Your posture is a little more natural and your gait is a little more confident.
These days are more intoxicating than any tipple could possibly provide.
This time could not have come at a better period in your life.
Every moment you feel more human than the last.
If you've made it through this past year, you can make it through the rest.
Everything that's been subtracted is less than what you've added.
The next breath will be deeper and fresher than expected.
There doesn't need to be a limit to anything.
At times a free-flow feels better than meter and rhyme.
The sun and the moon and the stars are always there.
This life is yours and yours alone.
You wouldn't exchange it for anything, anyway, anyhow.
Soon everyone will see exactly why.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Seeds of a Dream Take Root
Good news came this week in the form of a large white envelope bearing my name spelled correctly. It seems I'm starting school on August 24th. What a huge relief.
I applied for the Addiction Counseling program at MCTC (apparently the oldest in MN) for the same reason I started this blog...to transmutate the power of addiction into one of a permanent recovery that involves all that I love, both knowingly and mysteriously. Facing down chemical dependency will be the biggest thing many, many people will have to accomplish in life, simply to have a life. The task is enormously frightening and requires a staggering amount of honesty, energy, humility and patience. These are traits the addict has buried under copious amounts of lies, sloth, ego and intolerance.
I spent many years studying psychology and spirituality, yet could not act upon these studies for the aforementioned reasons. Once the time finally came in April to accept the time as NOW, I had an arsenal of resources at my disposal and was able to slay the beast in an extremely reasonable amount of time. I know that this is not the case for the majority of those suffering. This is why I want to help. In just over two months the world has turned for me in so many ways that before I could only dream about. It is with this in mind that everyday I wish could remind the other troubled souls that life, love, dreams, hope and fulfillment is still theirs. That none of those things have ever gone away because God will never take them from us. It is simply up to us to rediscover them, somewhere beneath the layers of an erroneous life. We all had aspirations as children, whatever they may have been. There were dreams of space travel, the presidency, great paintings and sculptures, baseballs and bats, music and words, true love and eternity, husbands, wives, children and world peace. Life gives what you put in, and I choose to put in my heart.
This just came to me and it may well be my new motto: Still we can dream with innocence, but now we can act with maturity.
Have a great Sunday.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
I applied for the Addiction Counseling program at MCTC (apparently the oldest in MN) for the same reason I started this blog...to transmutate the power of addiction into one of a permanent recovery that involves all that I love, both knowingly and mysteriously. Facing down chemical dependency will be the biggest thing many, many people will have to accomplish in life, simply to have a life. The task is enormously frightening and requires a staggering amount of honesty, energy, humility and patience. These are traits the addict has buried under copious amounts of lies, sloth, ego and intolerance.
I spent many years studying psychology and spirituality, yet could not act upon these studies for the aforementioned reasons. Once the time finally came in April to accept the time as NOW, I had an arsenal of resources at my disposal and was able to slay the beast in an extremely reasonable amount of time. I know that this is not the case for the majority of those suffering. This is why I want to help. In just over two months the world has turned for me in so many ways that before I could only dream about. It is with this in mind that everyday I wish could remind the other troubled souls that life, love, dreams, hope and fulfillment is still theirs. That none of those things have ever gone away because God will never take them from us. It is simply up to us to rediscover them, somewhere beneath the layers of an erroneous life. We all had aspirations as children, whatever they may have been. There were dreams of space travel, the presidency, great paintings and sculptures, baseballs and bats, music and words, true love and eternity, husbands, wives, children and world peace. Life gives what you put in, and I choose to put in my heart.
This just came to me and it may well be my new motto: Still we can dream with innocence, but now we can act with maturity.
Have a great Sunday.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Monday, June 22, 2009
When Dreams Act As Revelations (Part 2)
The realization came about two weeks ago that all of this effort to come clean of alcohol addiction was only going to work if I was to give up the other, and at times more powerful and harmful, habit...tobacco. Now I had dropped this in the past and felt as though I could do it again, even while shedding the burden of alcohol. Well, really, I needed to be honest with myself and admit that the pride of being alcohol-free only meant so much if I still smoked. I would still be chemically dependent, right? So on Wednesday, June 3, I became officially smoke-free.
Oh, I was proud, anxious and excited. The first day went by well enough and I glided through treatment the next. It wasn't until AA Thursday night when I let my group know of my decision that the guys, almost in unison, exclaimed "they say you shouldn't do both at the same time", "you'll be back to doing one or the other" and not exactly supportive things as such. I was surprised, especially since these are the same guys that say almost every other night how exactly evil smoking is. As disheartening as this was, I knew deep down it was the only way to go, and if I wasn't going to do it now, I would always find an excuse to procrastinate in the future. I had the power to overcome the urge, and I took everything I had learned in the previous weeks with me to the fight.
That night I was enjoying more than 24 hours clean, and went to bed for the first time in a long, long while without even the thought or urge. This is where my overactive mind comes into play, much like it did in the first days of becoming alcohol-free. I did not consider the previous dream before I went to bed, yet when the actual moment came I knew what I was facing. This particular dream was not nearly as involved as the first time around but it provided the same amount of relief.
This was a simple, single outdoor scene with dull colors on the verge of black-and-white. Two men approached me, one with no real distinguishable features and the other looking like Rocky Balboa had really let himself go. Potbelly, disheveled clothing, wild hair black as coal (significant color), unshaved and surly. This character walks up to me, sticks his finger in my face and shouts that he will proceed to kick my ass in the next couple days, apparently when I least expect it. There was the very brief instance of "what the hell" that quickly turned to into an incredible amount of disgust, anger and resistance boiling up inside me. "Let's just do this right now!" I shouted. I was going to deal with this fool on my terms and not wait around for him to trip me up. I began to rip off layers and layers of jackets, sweatshirts, and t-shirts (so many!) all the while letting it be known that it was I that would be walking away from this confrontation in one piece. The expression on his face was one of the bully that never gets stood up to, but when it finally happens he needs to change his pants. It was absolute confusion, and he kept looking to his partner for an explanation. It was all over before it even came to blows.
I woke up with a very pleasant smile knowing full well what just happened. I felt completely free. By simply standing up for myself I had defeated this unkempt and uncivil character supposedly hell-bent on defeating me. To me, he was the embodiment of the cigarette habit. He was dirty, unhealthy, and his hair so black and twisted I knew it right away. It is said that the first three days without tobacco are the hardest, and considering I had 24 hours under my belt this would explain why he threatened to whoop me in the next forty-eight.
So here it is, eighteen days later...
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Oh, I was proud, anxious and excited. The first day went by well enough and I glided through treatment the next. It wasn't until AA Thursday night when I let my group know of my decision that the guys, almost in unison, exclaimed "they say you shouldn't do both at the same time", "you'll be back to doing one or the other" and not exactly supportive things as such. I was surprised, especially since these are the same guys that say almost every other night how exactly evil smoking is. As disheartening as this was, I knew deep down it was the only way to go, and if I wasn't going to do it now, I would always find an excuse to procrastinate in the future. I had the power to overcome the urge, and I took everything I had learned in the previous weeks with me to the fight.
That night I was enjoying more than 24 hours clean, and went to bed for the first time in a long, long while without even the thought or urge. This is where my overactive mind comes into play, much like it did in the first days of becoming alcohol-free. I did not consider the previous dream before I went to bed, yet when the actual moment came I knew what I was facing. This particular dream was not nearly as involved as the first time around but it provided the same amount of relief.
This was a simple, single outdoor scene with dull colors on the verge of black-and-white. Two men approached me, one with no real distinguishable features and the other looking like Rocky Balboa had really let himself go. Potbelly, disheveled clothing, wild hair black as coal (significant color), unshaved and surly. This character walks up to me, sticks his finger in my face and shouts that he will proceed to kick my ass in the next couple days, apparently when I least expect it. There was the very brief instance of "what the hell" that quickly turned to into an incredible amount of disgust, anger and resistance boiling up inside me. "Let's just do this right now!" I shouted. I was going to deal with this fool on my terms and not wait around for him to trip me up. I began to rip off layers and layers of jackets, sweatshirts, and t-shirts (so many!) all the while letting it be known that it was I that would be walking away from this confrontation in one piece. The expression on his face was one of the bully that never gets stood up to, but when it finally happens he needs to change his pants. It was absolute confusion, and he kept looking to his partner for an explanation. It was all over before it even came to blows.
I woke up with a very pleasant smile knowing full well what just happened. I felt completely free. By simply standing up for myself I had defeated this unkempt and uncivil character supposedly hell-bent on defeating me. To me, he was the embodiment of the cigarette habit. He was dirty, unhealthy, and his hair so black and twisted I knew it right away. It is said that the first three days without tobacco are the hardest, and considering I had 24 hours under my belt this would explain why he threatened to whoop me in the next forty-eight.
So here it is, eighteen days later...
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
