Taking Off the Masks: A Look Back at 2009

We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be
done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through
the rooms of our lives...not looking for flaws, but for potential.
~Ellen Goodman~

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each
new year find you a better man.
~Benjamin Franklin~

I don't even know quite how to begin looking back at 2009. It was a year of so many surprises, opportunities, first steps, giant leaps, and downright freefalls and I have been continuously challenged - finding growth in rising up to meet various opponents. This year, I have taken risks beyond what I ever could have imagined that I would - and created expectations within my world that I never could have dreamed would be met...and I have encountered the most amazing and inspiring people along the way.

I have to say that the highlight of the year for me has to be the cruise that I went on in November. I am not a traveler for the most part...but I have always dreamed of visiting other places. The particular tour that I chose gave me the incredible opportunity to fulfill that dream, and to make a difference in other parts of the world by participating in local volunteer activities at the same time. It is such a profound concept. I saw sunrises over the ocean, and sunsets in 3 different countries that took my breath away. I got kissed by a dolphin, rode a horse on a Mexican beach, and left my mark in the pediatric ward of a Belizean hospital by helping to paint cartoon character murals on the walls for the young patients to enjoy.

This cruise was so important to me on a number of levels and quickly became a representative symbol of an internal journey that had been taking place for me since very early in the year. When I boarded that ship, I literally left behind everything remotely familiar and entered a world which I knew nothing about and where I was completely unknown. My own anonymity and the knowledge that my interaction with this particular universe was for just one week in time was such an incredible gift. It allowed me to spend time discovering my real self - the self that lies underneath the masks that I wear to fit into my life and to experience, without fear, how THAT self could relate to the people around me. The only disruption to the peace I felt seemed to be a fairly intense level of "politicking" going on at the corporate level among the staff of the travel group - and it somehow cast an air of cliquishness and exclusivity among some of the passengers that put me off a little. One particular moment stands out as I noted some of the higher level staff pointing around and whispering among themselves...and it took me back to a definite "mean girl high school" moment. Even that, however, provided a significant opportunity for self examination and growth in my own heart. Overall, the cruise was an incredible experience that brought about a definite shift in the state of my soul - and as we arrived back in the states I realized that I was done with the masks...there is simply no longer a need.

Weeks later, after much dreaming, planning, saving, and anticipating, I packed my car and moved 700 miles away - again, away from all things familiar and secure and into a world that is unknown to me...and in which I am unknown. It is a new start for me...the darkness of my past making way to a future that I am uncertain about, but that is full of possibility. With everyone I hold dear safe and sound in my heart, I begin a new story.

The pencil is sharp, and a blank page stares at me as I formulate my opening statement:

Chapter One...

Five Simple Rules

But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?
~Albert Camus~

I don't know who wrote this or where it came from - all I know is that it came to me right on time. It touches me deeply and so I put it here as a reminder to me, and a little food for thought for all of those passing through...

How To Be Happy

The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coiled and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. "I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy. "Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room .... just wait. "That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged, it's how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away, just for this time in my life. " She went on to explain, "Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from what you've put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my Memory bank. I am still depositing." And with a smile, she said:

"Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less."

Peace in a New Day

Gonna find peace in a new day, gonna build a better way...
...brick by brick, stone by stone, stick by stick
~Rayn~

There has never been a time in which I wanted a "do over" more than the day that I stood in front of a conservative Texas judge in handcuffs and waited for his decision. Somewhere very deep inside of me, I completely understood that my life was about to be profoundly changed, forever.

And I was right.

When I came home from "camp" (well, okay, it was prison - but it was kind of like camp...with really bad food, no swimming, and very mean camp counselors...heh.), I set my sights very low, and spent a great deal of time wishing I could go back and start over. I thought of all of the things I could have done differently, better, smarter. On a daily basis, I grieved the things and people that I had lost. And I never imagined for one single minute that my life would ever be different. In my own mind, I believed that I had fucked up SO badly that this was the life I deserved...my punishment, penance, atonement. I eventually found a sort of peace in low expectations. I found a job that paid the bills and a quiet, solitary, off the radar life that was often lonely, but always predictable. I tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to stop thinking about things I could not undo. Mostly, at all cost, I tried to avoid thoughts of the future...because those seemed to be the emptiest, grayest, coldest thoughts of all.

Until the day that I sat down and took a good hard objective look at myself - through my own eyes, through the eyes the honest and caring people that I had surrounded myself with, and through the factual history of the last several years of my life. All of that searching, evaluating, and challenging in my soul left me with only one possible conclusion:

The penance is done. I am not a bad individual - I made poor choices, and I paid a very high price. I learned. I grew. And I deserve a future...I have worked my ass off for it. I have earned it.

And so my sights aimed higher. A job that brings me joy in addition to income. A place to live where I can feel safe, and free, and peaceful. Forgiveness - most of all from myself.

If you build it, they will come.

I cannot go back and change the past - and I often wonder if it would really even help if I could. But, brick by brick, I am building a different future.

A new start.

And I am awed by the possibilities for a different ending.

A Day of Thanksgiving - A Daily Thanksgiving

The unthankful heart... discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!

~Henry Ward Beecher

I've said it before, and I will keep saying it...but especially loud today, gratitude is absolutely the cornerstone of my recovery and every good thing that I have in my life. I honestly believe that gratitude is the one single element that keeps me clean, gives me strength and strength of character, and provides me with the ability to love and feel love in my life.

I have decided that my favorite Facebook status of the day is "Just another day to feel thankful." How true is that? I mean, it's cool and all to have a day set aside for food, football, and taking a moment to acknowledge the good in our lives. But what would happen if each and every one of us took that last thing and turned it into a daily habit.? I know this is not a new idea...but with so many tragic things happening around the world - war, scary financial times, suicide bombers, etc., it just seems like a good time to consider the question.

There was a time when I could not feel gratitude at all. I was so focused on my own pain and unhappiness that it was impossible for me to see the good in my life at all. I didn't realize at the time that my inability to see what was good was precisely what kept me in the cycle of pain and unhappiness. Duh. It seems so simple to me now - but at that time, I could not imagine that things would ever change for me. I thought I was doomed to the depths of that pain and anguish for the rest of my life. So I chased every "solution" that was offered to me and eventually found my comfort at the bottom of various bottles...and then I lost everything.

The irony of losing everything is that there is nothing that better clarifies the actual blessings in your life.

Today, I looked at the journal I started when I was in jail. Each day, I would write the thing that I was most grateful for that day...I made a rule for myself that I could not repeat an entry at any time during a week. Here is my entry for Thanksgiving day, 2003:

Soap.

Yes, soap. For those of you...likely most of you...that have not ever had the jail experience, I should just point out that the soap that is provided to you is, umm, less than special. If you want a "premium" soap like Family Dollar brand deoderant soap, you have to purchase it yourself from the jail commissary. And for that, you need money - which many inmates do not have. I had a little money, so I got the premium soap...and on that day, when I had absolutely nothing else, I was so profoundly thankful for that soap, that I had to write it down. When I got out of jail more than a year later, I bought a bottle of Olay Body wash and, when I got in the shower, I thought I was the richest, luckiest, most blessed person on the planet.

And I still think that - and I marvel at my blessings every single day. And I still can't smell Family Dollar brand deodorant soap without thinking of the time when that soap was the best thing I had.

This year has been an amazing year for me - and I directly attribute that to the deep sense of gratitude that I feel for all things good in my life. The more I acknowledge the good, the more profoundly I am blessed with people, opportunities, and experiences that perpetuate strength, love, and happiness in my life. The more I focus on joy and the less I focus on pain...the more joy I find, and the less pain I feel...without therapy, alcohol, or pills. Imagine that. It seems so simple to me now.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day...and every day...here is my list:

Family, friends old and new, Loco the Chihuahua, great music, sobriety, and the opportunity to reconnect. Many of you have stood by me on bad days, contributed to the great days...and all of you have inspired me to dream bigger. I make every effort to tell you often how much you mean in my life. If I haven't said it lately, slap me. I love you all. A side note about Facebook and Social Networking: I have reconnected, via this amazing internet, with a few people that I never thought I would see or hear from again. You know who you are :) Thank you for taking the time to see who I am today and for giving me the opportunity to learn from you once again.

And on that note...

I am going to eat some pecan pie....and I fucking LOVE pecan pie!!

Happy Thanksgiving...every day :)

Making Room for the Good Stuff

When you let go of the story you tell, a lot of times it creates
a whole world of expansion for other things to come in.
~Sheryl Crow~

I want what I want, when I want it - oh yeah, and have I mentioned that I am somewhat of a control freak?

"Surrender" is a difficult word for me on my very best days. To surrender, in most contexts, means to lose...to give up...to stop fighting...to let it go. I am not one to feel all that comfortable with any of those things, and that can be both good and bad.

Over the past year, I have had the opportunity to travel more than usual, flying here and there to visit family and friends. Ever the meticulous planner, anytime I have a trip, I spend hours checking out the various options on Expedia and Orbitz and all of those other services that promise to make things quick, easy, and painless. I pick my flights, check the times, make certain that I have plenty of time from one flight to the next on layovers...I ALWAYS plan out what seems to me to be an easy, no hassle, stress free trip. I arrive at the airport with plenty of time to go through security, get something to eat, and chill out with a book for a while before boarding the plane. I am in my happy place because I am in control :)

Then it starts to rain...in Pheonix, where my plane is coming from to pick me up on the way to Atlanta...where I have planned for an hour and a half between flights. So, cool. I planned for this. It's all good. Twenty minutes late, no problem. Boarding the plane, finding my seat, realizing that there will be a 2 year old behind me for the next 2 and a half hours. Ugh, no planning for that...but it's ok. Headphones rule. Thirty five minutes later, we are still on the ground. The wind is blowing weird so the pilot has decided that we need more gas. I reassure myself that gassing up is a good thing, I am blessed to be on a flight with a pilot who is as careful of a planner as me and wants to make sure all of the bases are covered. All gassed up, approved for departure....only 6 planes ahead of us on the runway. Touching down in Atlanta, I have a meager 30 minutes to make my connection...tight, but it will be ok. There is another plane at the gate - we must wait for it to move. 20 minutes later, in Terminal B, I ask the desk attendant what gate my new plane is departing from. Terminal T - have you ever seen the Atlanta airport???

My zen has completely disappeared, and I want to scream, fight, and blame every airline employee in Phoenix, Dallas, and Atlanta for the fact that I am not where I need to be...but, since I have no desire to be on the wrong end of airport security or give the airline any reason whatsoever to make my day even more difficult, I suck it up and graciously say thank you when I am informed that I will be able to be on the very next flight in 2 hours. Defeated, I sulk over to the food court to find something with lots of endorphin releasing fat and sugar (translation: a triple shot Espresso Truffle from Starbucks) to ease my wait and bring me back to center...

While drinking my coffee (ok, it is a triple caffeinated hot milkshake...just to be clear) in the crowded terminal, an elderly woman approaches me and asks if the seat next to me is taken. I am a little annoyed, as I am trying to pout by myself, but the annoyance disappears as she talks to me. She is 86 years old and on her way to see, for the first time, her great great grandchild. She is traveling by herself and has experienced many of the same kinds of obstacles and delays in her day as I have. She has photos, and stories, and a MUCH better attitude than me. By the time I reach the plane for the last leg of my trip, my heart is lighter, my zen has returned, and I am actually grateful for this delay.

Sometimes, giving up on something is the only way find the place where your energy is really meant to be. Typically, fighting only serves to make everyone involved just a little more miserable. And letting go of _________ (the blank is totally yours to fill in) is the surest way to free our arms to reach out and embrace the blessings that the universe has for us today.

For control freaks like me, that means planning for the story to change...

No Time Like the Present

Having spent the better part of my life trying either to relive the past or experience the future before it arrives, I have come to believe that in between these two extremes is peace. ~Author Unknown

Nothing is worth more than this day. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I have a ton of regrets. When I get still, and think about the various ways in which my addiction has affected me and the people that were around me when I was using, I fear the grief will just swallow me up. The understanding that my behavior caused other people great pain in their lives...so much so that it became unforgivable...is, perhaps, the most excruciating thing in my own. There is nothing in my past that I wish to relive, but there are plenty of things that I wish I could do over, do differently, do better.

To avoid the pain that past regrets bring forth, I spend a great deal of time trying to occupy my thoughts with other things. For the past couple of years, I have been trying to make plans for a different future. I have dreamed of drastic changes, far away places, and a life far removed from reminders of such painful times. My plans are beginning to fall into place, and it is both exciting and scary at the same time. My emotions range from being barely able to stand the waiting and being paralyzed by the terror of failing...and failing alone. The former creates a deep seated discontent in my soul, and the latter...well, I have been talking myself out of a lot of panic attacks lately.

The problem with placing myself too far, or too often, into the past or the future is that it causes me to lose sight of today and miss out on the joys of the present. Even on bad days, there are priceless moments that make me smile, make me think, and allow me to fully immerse myself in the gratitude I feel just for waking up on the top side of the dirt on that day. I can't change anything that has happened in the past, and the future is uncertain for everyone - no one absolutely knows that tomorrow will actually happen. But in this day, and this moment...one day, hour, moment, second at a time...I can make a right choice, and then another - with the understanding that if I put enough of those together, the future can't help but work out...and just maybe, eventually, the right choices I make right now will become greater than the wrong choices I made when I was using...and that will somehow make its way to the people that I need too see it. Stranger things have happened...

There really is no time like the present...

Just a Tiny Speck...

“True humility is intelligent self respect which keeps us from thinking too highly or too meanly of ourselves.
It makes us modest by reminding us how far we have come short of what we can be.”
~Ralph W. Sockman~

Humility and Gratitude comprise the foundation on which my recovery stands. While they are separate concepts, you really can't have one without the other if you truly understand the meaning of each.

It took some time for me to fully grasp the concept of humility and to be able to apply that to my own life. I have always struggled with low self esteem and a negative self image. When I first started out in recovery, I often mistook those attitudes for humility, thinking that the less I thought of myself, the more I was humbling myself. Consequently, I ended up beating up on myself and harshly judging myself for every mistake that I made and every flaw that I perceived in myself. As a result, I often found myself swallowed up in feelings of regret, guilt, and depression. These feelings would often render me completely hopeless - and send me back to the desire to escape from my own "badness" - a desire that was one of the driving forces of my addiction to begin with.

Humility is NOT the same as self degradation. It is not about feeling like we are not as good as other people, but about realizing that we are not profoundly different from them either. On our best days, we are still flawed, and on our worst days we are not nearly as bad as we often believe. Humility is about finding the place where we can acknowledge our genuine selves with all of our scars, bruises, and other imperfections and also find an understanding of the roles we play each one of them. It is about truly "getting" that the profound list of blessings in our lives are truly the manifestation of a higher power at work and cannot be accounted for by anything that we have done or not done on our own. I can still remember the exact moment in which I TRULY felt a sense of humility in my recovery. I was at a meeting when I really understood for the first time that the ONLY difference between me, as I walked to the front of the room to receive my 3 year chip, and the newcomer walking to the front of the room to receive his desire chip was that I had simply been doing it longer. To this day, while I am proud of the years of sobriety that I have achieved, I never allow myself to get too far from that understanding.

Today I find that the more I understand that I do not have all of the answers, the easier it becomes to find them. When I acknowledge that I did not get to where I am by myself, I become more compassionate with myself and with other people that I encounter. The more I reach out from a heart that is open to feedback, the more I find myself surrounded by people that help me to move to the next level, and the next, and the next. The more I subscribe to the idea that I am just a tiny speck in a vast and infinite world, the more meaningful I feel within my own little part of it.

The more I humble myself, the deeper my gratitude becomes.

And that is my strength...

Feeling It

"What's baffling when you are on the ground makes sense when you can begin to rise above it."
-Wally Lamb

I used to refer to hydrocodone as "the love of my life" because it was the only thing I felt like I could count on to get me through the night...and the day...and everything in between. I didn't realize the abuses that I was suffering at the hands of this lover until it was almost too late. When I was in treatment and the fog started to lift, all emotion seemed very sensitive and painful - much like when the blood starts flowing again through a limb that has fallen asleep and the sensation is almost unbearable for a brief time. I had to learn to breath through it, cry through it, write through it, talk through it - whatever was necessary to move me through it without taking a pill. It is always temporary, and there is peace on the other side of it. I have also learned, over time, that the way I talk to myself is key. "I can't take this" has turned into "this is going to be ok, I just have to wait it out." "I can't do this" has turned into "This is nothing, I have done WAY harder than this."

I have been clean now for 6 years - I have bad days...but they are the exception rather than the rule. Once, I believed that "feeling good" meant feeling nothing. Today I know a very different kind of feeling good. You may not feel pain when you are numb - but by definition, you will not feel joy either. Frankly, I would rather have both than neither.

Great Friends

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not
the same river and he's not the same man.
-Heraclitus

I came to the realization fairly early in my process that recovery is not just about reading a book or going to a meeting. It is a way of life that keeps evolving - and sometimes it's a little hard for me to keep up. 10 years ago, I was so clinically depressed that I was on disability, going to therapy every day, taking a cabinet full of medication, and just sort of wandering my way from place to place with no real direction. My personality was completely trapped by my emotions and my self esteem was completely non-existent. I always felt like I was not as smart, talented, funny, or cool as my friends. I always felt like they were doing me a huge favor just to remember my name. Seriously, I know that seems extreme...but it is absolutely true. It set me up to really be emotionally abused by a lot of people - because I just felt so desperate to be liked, accepted, and valued that I was willing to do absolutely anything for it. Many years and life changing events later, my life is SO different now. Looking back at that time in my life feels so weird - because it is like I am just looking at a completely different human being. It's just that, sometimes, I feel like have not quite grown into this new life and the new person that I am.

For a long time after I got clean, I really limited the people that I interacted with to a very few longtime friends. I didn't really see myself as ready to relate with the world and knew I had a lot of work to do on myself before I could really allow others to be a part of my journey. I'm really a very shy person anyway, so the idea of meeting new people and integrating them into a life that I was trying to keep numbingly simple, was kind of overwhelming. But the universe always seems to know best, and in the last couple of years, I have begun to meet so many new and surprising people that bring so much joy into my life - even the old relationships that have been built over years seem to feel new and different. For the first time, I don't feel like I have to change myself according to who I am talking to today, or this hour, or this moment. I haven't quite gotten used to the feeling of not having to bribe, coerce, or guilt someone into being my friend. It still feels weird to me when someone says, "I think you are smart" or "You are funny"...and I sometimes still find myself thinking the old "they don't mean that" kind of thoughts and I hate that. I try really hard to just take what they are saying at face value as the truth, without trying to force it through the filters of my own self doubt. Somehow, in spite of myself and my own internal craziness, I have managed to draw into my life the most amazing, honest, genuine, and totally cool circle of friends. They make my sometimes complicated life more peaceful, more interesting, and more joyful.

I don't really know that I deserve them, but I am awfully glad that I have them...and my gratitude just keeps growing...

Thanks for letting me share :)

Right,Wrong, and The Places In Between

We continued to take personal inventory and
when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.

If someone were to ask me which of the 12 steps has the most meaning in my recovery, I would have to say step 10 - for it is the one that helps me to know and understand myself better, stay on a right path, and maintain an awareness of my own motives and how my actions affect both myself and the world around me. Step 10 requires me to ask more of myself in terms of my recovery and the way I live my life. I work step 10 in a number of ways - but I think the most effective way for me is to talk with people I trust and hold myself accountable to about the things that bother me, or situations in which I find myself having trouble making good decisions. I have an amazing support system made up of people that I consider to be examples of the way I want to live my life - and that is extremely important and helpful to me.

I think we all like to believe that in every situation we try to do the right things for the right reasons. Unfortunately, at least for me, that is more of a goal than a reality. The best thing I can say is that I try - and my success rate has definitely increased with my clean time. But it certainly is nowhere near perfect. The daily practice of step 10 is an opportunity for me to think about moments and situations in which I fell short, and to think about action plans for the next time that I face the same challenges.

Recently, I have spent a great deal of time with my personal inventory, trying to understand how situations spin out of control so quickly, and how my own insecurities and low self esteem contribute to the way I interact with myself and the world - and ultimately influence the choices I make in my own personal behavior. Looking back at a time when I was making wrong decisions every single day has not been easy, but living with the resentment that developed in the wake of all of those bad choices has been much harder. During this time, I failed miserably at being a person of character and I failed miserably at setting appropriate boundaries for my own behavior and the behavior towards me that I would allow of someone else in my life. I allowed my feelings of loneliness to overwhelm my sense of morality - which resulted in confusion, shame, and anger when the real needs that I was trying to satisfy only ended up frustrated and unmet...and I still felt alone, I still felt unloved, and I still felt untouchable. Not only did the choices I made NOT solve those problems for me, they made them worse. I thought I had all of the answers when it was happening, and I did - all the wrong ones. I wouldn't listen, I made excuses, and I stubbornly continued for several months on a path that was risking my sobriety and tearing me apart. I am left now with the pieces...looking for the lessons, learning from the pain, and figuring out what this was meant to contribute to my journey.

And here is what I have learned :

1. shut your mouth and open your ears - sometimes people outside of the situation know better
2. choose what you know over how you feel - often, feelings lie
3. be proactive in finding healthy ways to address loneliness and low self esteem - people will value you if you value yourself...and if you don't, they won't either.
4. there is a reason for the practice of rigorous honesty, and for the saying "Secrets keep you sick"
   

Here is the biggest thing - today - and every day for the last 5 years and 9 months - I am clean, sober, and clear headed.

That makes it a good day :)

Thanks for letting me share...

Demons of My Own Making

Early in my recovery, I once said "I'd rather feel it than not feel it - whatever it is." Sometimes I can be so dumb.

It's a bad day today, and by bad I mean sitting in a dark room hugging my dog listening to the same song over and over staring into space ruminating about my horribleness oh my god I just want a pill kind of bad day.

On days like today, I reconnect with an uncanny ability to look inside myself and find a way to remember every mistake I have ever made, every sideways comment that I have ever said, every disappointment that I have ever caused and put them all together as the best evidence ever of my own stupidity and badness. Everything people say (or don't say for that matter) goes through my "I hate me" filter and straight into my heart.

Today, I am struggling with a demon of my own making. More than a year ago, I had a brief affair with someone that I knew was otherwise attached. To make it ok inside my own heart, I told myself that their relationship must not be what it should be, or the affair wouldn't be happening at all. I told myself that I was in love with her before the two of them ever even met. I told myself that it was only a matter of time before she would understand that I was actually the one she needed. I lied to myself over and over again.

What it took me a while to really understand was that, to her, I was nothing more than a conquest, and ego stroke, a toy. She had the life she wanted barring a little forbidden excitement - which was where I came in. When the forbidden excitement threatened to affect her stability at home, she decided we should just be friends - unless, of course, I could find a way to reconcile my position in her life in a way that would NOT affect her loving committed PRIMARY relationship - and then it would be great to continue on exactly as things were going. Her argument was that if I couldn't be happy being her friend with benefits, I must not have ever cared about her to begin with. After many attempts at the friendship thing, I eventually began to pull away...the truth was just too hard.

This weekend, they are getting married.

And I can't watch.

And she doesn't get why.

My emotions are cycling all over the place, I hate it. Sad, angry, hurt, guilty, ashamed, grieving, self loathing, resentful. impulsive, crazy, overwhelmed... and I remember saying that thing about how I would rather feel it than not.

Dumb....really dumb.

A demon of my own making...

All I have to do is not take a pill...this will pass

This will pass...

It's a Process, Not an Event

I knew I was an addict long before the state of Texas told me so. In that knowledge, I made numerous attempts at recovery - some more sincere than others. At the first NA meeting I attended, I was convinced that I would have this thing licked in no time - after all, I am a fast reader, the book is short, and there are only 12 steps to the cure...right? I kinda figured, you know, 12 steps...eh, roughly one step a day... I would be done in 2 weeks at most - one if I doubled up. With a finish line all established (I am an extremely goal driven person), I bought the step working guide, a special little spiral notebook, and an assortment of pens and I was on my way to clean and sober living. Writing pages and pages of longhand in response to the questions offered by the step guide, I imagined the look of approval that would cross my sponsor's face when I presented her with my extremely organized, articulate, and thorough work. Somehow, I think I thought that she would look at my pages and say "Christy, this is awesome...I think you've got it and I really don't see any reason for you to keep coming to meetings." Instead, she took my prized notebook and put it in the trash can at McDonalds. When I expressed my outrage, she said "I want you to do step 1, and only step 1. We can meet next month to discuss it."

"Next month???" I whined, "I already know I have a problem, I am done with step 1. I'm done with them all and you just threw them in the garbage!!!"

She fired me. I continued to think I had completed the 12 step program and eventually relapsed. The criminal justice system stepped in to prove to me that I was wrong. Getting serious about recovery - serious about staying alive - meant redefining myself around these 12 steps and understanding that recovery is an active, changing, evolving process. It's not a task to be completed, it is a standard for living.

Over 5 years later, Steps 1, 2, and 3 are still a part of my daily journey. Old memories, attitudes, and resentments still surface and I find myself mentally noting them onto my Step 4 inventory - and at least a few times a day I find myself in the middle of Step 10 as new situations rise up to challenge my resolve to apply the principles of rigorous honesty and doing the right things for the right reasons in all of my dealings with myself and others. Often, I find myself sharing my story and my struggle with others - and I know that many of them, whether they know it yet or not, will someday remember my words and find hope in them when all of their own hope seems to have disappeared.

When I started living the steps instead of doing them, that finish line no longer seemed as important as it once did. The differences that it makes in my world have erased the notion that there will ever come a time that my life can go back to the way it was... or that I would want it to. It's a process, not an event...

Spring Cleaning

You know, I can't believe it is already April, springtime, almost hell hot Texas summertime...the days, weeks, months - they all just seem to fly. It seems like yesterday that I was shopping for Christmas presents.

When I was a kid, the edge of our front yard facing the road was sort of gulley like - for lack of a better term. To make walking to our front door easier, there was a little bridge across the gulley. It was white, and one spring, it became my job to paint it. I loved the idea - but what I wasn't that crazy about was preparing it to be painted. I really didn't understand why I couldn't just slap the new paint on top of the old paint...why all of that sanding and scraping was necessary at all. It has taken me years to learn the lesson that covering up something that you don't want to look at doesn't mean it is no longer there.

If you have ever watched the Style Network, you have likely seen the show "Clean House." It's one of those shows that the network runs marathon style - back to back episodes for several hours a day...and, believe me, I can watch every one of them over and over. The idea is that people who are living in out of control clutter call the show up and have them come over and go through their house to de-clutterize it. After taking all of the accumulated junk out of the house, they then have a yard sale and use the funds to redesign and decorate one or more rooms in the house. I never cease to be amazed when the crew first enters these people's houses. Who in the hell lives like that??? It's just crazy!! These people have so much crap that they can't even see their bed, or the floor, or the kitchen counters. When they begin to go through the house finding yard sale items, it is like pulling teeth. I remember one guy that had some sort of weird obsession with dead computers. He had a fantasy that he would repair them all and sell them on ebay. While he was not getting around to that, he had collected enough non-functional keyboards, monitors, towers, etc... to render an entire room in the house completely useless - and this grown man, no shit, threw a big ol' "I gotta go lay down" hissy fit about getting rid of that crap - EVEN when they offered him a completely new, fully equipped office space...he still put up a fight...he just couldn't let go.

I was thinking about that guy tonight. Often my life feels just like the inside of these people's houses. I've gone through life collecting the things that have made up my journey, and many of those things served a purpose for a while but then, for whatever reason, stopped working for me or maybe even started working against me. Some things never worked to begin with, but I just didn't know what to do with them so I tucked them away, vowing, with the sincerest of intentions, to deal with them later. Commitments have gotten lost, irritations turned to resentments...before I knew it, I had no room in my life for anything else. Eventually, I found myself overwhelmed by emotional clutter, chaos, and a complete inability to find peace. And yet, when someone tried to help me let go of the junk cluttering up my life, my basest instinct was to fight them...to hang on to it with everything I had.

So, it's springtime again. Time to pull out all of the crap, examine it, and sort it into bags marked keep, throw out, and donate. Time to get uncompromisingly honest about what works, and what doesn't ... what should be tossed, what might be worth the cost and effort to repair. Time to figure out a course of action for the things left tucked away, understanding that in order to have room for the things and people that contribute to my peace and happiness, I have to get rid of those that do not... scraping and sanding to make way for the new coat of paint...

And so my spring cleaning begins....

Old People, Places, and Things...

Today is a very different thing for me than yesterday was. I don't really go out of my way to avoid all of the people and places that were important to me in my addiction. I don't have to, really - mostly they have just sort of fallen to the wayside on their own. Different interests have led to different lives...for me anyway. And the brutal truth is, as important as some of that stuff was to me...I was totally and completely disposable in that world - I was just too high to realize it at the time.

Last night, I had the opportunity to visit a new hangout to see a band that I really like. I've been hearing really cool things about the place, sort of a neighborhood bar and grill where folks can meet up, hear some music, grab a bite, etc... I knew that I would likely run into some folks that I know from back in the day - but you know, so much time has passed and I knew that I was with a group of new friends that know who I really am and have never seen or met that stranger that I was 6 years ago. I really didn't count on having any kind of strong reaction at all and, frankly, was kind of excited about seeing some of those folks again.

I was wrong. The new place is the old place in "Cheers" drag. The name is different, but the faces are all the same. The cliques and judgements and exclusiveness are still there. I had a hugely surreal moment when I was standing outside talking with the band's singer, and the booking person from the bar - who I have known for years, but not seen in a good while - came outside and interrupted me, basically taking over the converstation. It was like I was completely invisible, even when I said hello and tried to chat with her. I am talking not even a glance. When the singer went inside, and one of my friends came over to say hello - a conversation happened between she and this person as well... still, I was completely invisible....completely. And it bothered me alot. I spent the better part of my late twenties and early thirties supporting this woman's music...not even a glance. Other people I knew were there too, and all the same...not quite as obvious...just giving me the same looks of disdain they have always had for people that were not part of "them."

When I got home, I couldn't stop thinking about the past, and it was really hard. I have a new life now. The lies are in the past, and I live so completely honestly now that sometimes I think it is probably really annoying to people. I have new friends, and I am not disposable to them...and sometimes that is hard for me to wrap my head around - the idea that I am valuable. It is such a dark place for me, the past. I spent so much time feeling like I could not do anything to be good enough in the world, but trying to make myself up as I went along into something that was. I hate that place, and I hate even getting a glimpse of it.

So now I know how the concept of staying away from old people, places, and things applies to me...even though I never really thought it did (you know, we're always try to be the exception - it's an addict thing).

Think I'll stick what's new, really new.

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop...

I used to believe that my life was just something that happened to me, and that I really didn't have much say. I did the things I was supposed to do...mostly. No one really had to discourage any of my crazy dreams, because I was really good at doing that for myself. The past several years have been comprised of doing what I have had to do to get by. Don't get me wrong, getting by is a good thing...it's an awesome thing...and more than I have ever really expected to be able to do. But over the past year or so, things have changed for me. Suddenly, it doesn't seem to be enough anymore - getting by. Perhaps the biggest change has been that, rather than sit around and think about how things just don't seem right, I have actually taken positive steps to move forward... and to consider some of my dreams as real possibilities.

This change in perspective has actually made some very real differences for me. In the same way that I used to be able to really discourage myself, I am finding that I can motivate myself as well. Rather than relying on other people to validate what is real, possible, and true for me - I am becoming more trusting of my own thoughts and opinions. I am taking chances and offering my hopes up to my Higher Power - and truly letting go and practicing patience and acceptance while things work themselves out. It is just amazing to me how my changing the way I interact with myself changes the way the world interacts with me.

Last week, something really cool happened for me...something that I have hoped for, worked toward, and outright asked for - and yet, it was a surprise when it actually became real - and it still feels kind of like I have that little "when is the OTHER shoe going to drop" voice whispering in the back of my mind somewhere. Historically, I have looked for reasons that these kinds of things just don't happen for me, that people just can't like me if I am my honest self around them, and that I would never really have anything to offer - and through that perspective - I never really failed to make all of those things true...the old self fulfilling prophecy concept. A few days ago, I was on the phone listening to someone say some really cool things about me to me...and I was having a really hard time hearing them - I don't know why I am like that - but I am really working on it...and I think part of my changing perspective on myself and the world has to do with learning to shut up and just listen...and then to believe, as hard as it sometimes is.

And then there's this - Sometimes, it just is what it is...

...there's not always another shoe.

Finding It On the Inside...

I've been clean for more than 5 years now. For many cancers, a remission of 5 years is viewed by the medical establishment as a cure. Many days, I think maybe that should be true for me - then others....well, I am pretty sure that one would still be too many, and that a thousand will never be enough.

The last 5 years have brought so many changes in my heart. Things and people that I once thought I would never be able to live without have fallen to the wayside, and, as the distance has grown between myself and them, I have been able to see so much more clearly how damaging - or at least unhelpful - many of them were to my life. And yet, living apart from them has required strength that I would never have believed that I possessed had I not been forced to reach so deeply inside of myself to find it.

Recently, I was writing an email to one of my new friends - a musician that I met last year in Dallas. I read a blog that she wrote in which she shared some details about how extremely difficult things have been for her lately. As I was thinking of things that I could say to encourage her, I started to think about the fact that many times in life, our greatest moments of courage, creativity, compassion, and growth are so often borne of the kind of pain that gives us no choice but to stare deeply into our own broken, bleeding souls and either accept what is staring back at us or commit to changing it. My addiction has been that pain for me - and the last 5 years have been made up of so much healing, so many instances of forcing myself to leave my comfort zone, so many AHA moments that come from facing my insecurities head on, rather than trying to bury them in a haze of pills and Jeagermeister.

I still struggle with old demons from time to time, but am better equipped to understand and have more compassion for myself than ever before because I have been forced to look inside and to understand what is inside of me, who I am, what made me broken, and what brought me back to life...

Through the lens of gratitude, the demons always seem smaller and less threatening...and, just for today, that is enough.

Thanks for letting me share:)

No, Thanks....just Coke...No, really....

Posted this on my myspace blog a month or so ago...

I recently was invited to a holiday gathering which was, like many other celebrations, a festive event involving great music, rich food, and freely flowing alcoholic beverages.

Most of the people in my life know that I am in recovery and that I do not drink - and most of them are incredibly respectful and supportive of that in my life (most of them also knew me when I wasn't in recovery...which is precisely WHY they are so supportive, lol). The folks hosting this event, however, are new friends - and I didn't know alot of the people there. As we arrived, we were asked what we would like to drink - and when I said "Coke," I got the strangest look of misunderstanding...then the question turned into "with rum?" Answer: "No thanks, just Coke." A bit later, a very similar conversation took place again - oddly enough, with the same person, who seemed to be feeling like maybe she just wasn't offering me the right drink and that if she kept trying different options she would finally land on something I would like. Finally, I said "I really am fine with Coke, I just don't drink alcohol." I watched her face as this sudden look of knowing came over her...then her nose sort of crinkled up and she said "Oh man, that sucks...I didn't know you couldn't drink."

This is not the first time I have heard this - or seen this look of combined astonishment and, well, some sort of strange pity...it usually comes just before a statement about how hard it must be, or a time when they got really drunk, or some such thing.

Can I just say...it's not that I can't drink - it's that I don't drink...there is a difference. It's nothing to be sad about - and, in fact, I am quite happy with this choice. Watching other people drink does not make me want to drink. Watching other people get completely lit just reminds me of why I have made the choices I have. Seeing other people have a drink does not offend me. I do not feel bad, sad, thirsty, or left out unless the alcohol is the complete focus of attention - in which case, I will go home.

It's a strange feeling for me when this kind of stuff happens. There is this automatic assumption that I am not having as much fun as other people because I am not drinking - and that is just not true. The fact is, that I have more fun sober than I ever had fucked up - and the best part is that I remember it all the next day...AND, I don't have a headache.

And in the power of my own choice...I have made it through another day sober, beaten the odds one more time...and, for me, there is nothing that calls for celebration more than that.

And on that note...thanks for letting me share

----------------

The Difference Between Then and Now

That last post was not so much about my addiction - I could write a hundred posts with the same kinds of bad scenes in them. The arrest, and ensuing prison sentence, were the beginning of my recovery, and the opening up of a whole new world for me...like starting all over again as a little toddler learning to walk and talk, and right from wrong, and how to take responsibility for myself. Even now, over 5 years later,I find myself in situations in which I feel just like a small, vulnerable child that can't quite figure out the right thing to do without a little help.

I thank God that I have developed the skills, and the courage to be able to reach out when I need to - it's the only way I can survive sometimes if I am being completely honest...

Five Minutes to Live...August 23, 2003

The tiles of the bathroom floor were cold and hard against my face as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The evening had started with a trip to the emergency room followed by a trip to the pharmacy to pick up the pain killers that the doctor had prescribed for my imaginary ailment. It was a scene that had been played over and over in the previous months as my addiction to the pills had overtaken my life. Before I could even make it all the way to the hotel room that had, along with various homeless and battered women’s shelters, been my temporary home since my girlfriend had kicked me out of the apartment that we shared - I had already taken all of the pills in the bottle and thrown it out of the car window. I could feel them taking effect and knew I needed to hurry and get into the room if I was going to be able to enjoy their full effect.

Before lying down on the bed, I poured out a coke into a glass full of ice and fixed myself a sandwich. I had run out of the anti nausea medication that I usually took with the pain pills to avoid getting sick to my stomach and a ruined high, and had been unable to talk the ER doctor into a new prescription. I was hoping the sandwich would ease the irritation to my stomach enough that I would not need them. The process of getting high had become a ritual, and I was ready to lie down and feel the escape that I knew the hydrocodone would bring.

The numbing effect of the drug began to wash over my brain, and I could feel the release…the relief… I took deep breaths in an effort to make the drug work better, reach its full effect faster. Suddenly, I could feel myself salivating heavily and I knew that the sandwich was probably not a good idea. Groggily, I pulled myself up off of the bed and hurried into the bathroom struggling not to vomit before I could get there. The contents of my stomach emptied almost in an instant, but the retching and heaving did not. After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the dry heaving gave way to a spewing of bright red blood onto the off white tiles of the bathroom floor. I thought it would never stop. Finally, weak, and spent and trembling, I laid my head down on the floor. I knew that I was dying. Just like they always say it does, the events of my life started to make their way into my head. I saw the faces of all of the people that I had ever loved – and who had ever loved me, and I heard their voices confronting me and pleading with me not to leave them. The urge to close my eyes and sleep was impossible to resist, though I knew that giving into that would surely mean never waking again.

Here in this cold hotel bathroom - lying in a pool of my own blood, vomit, tears, and sweat – I began to pray - to anything out in the big black universe that would listen. I prayed to wake up. I prayed that a stranger would find me. I prayed that my mother would never know how I was found. Shivering and crying and struggling to stay awake, I promised that, if I could just be allowed to wake up…if  I could just make it through this one last time…I would be better, stop using drugs, fix things with my family and friends, and become a productive member of society. The word "Amen" barely passed my lips as the darkness finally engulfed me and the world around me went dark.

Hours later, I opened my eyes and found myself on the same bathroom floor, horrified and disgusted with myself. Too weak to get to my feet, I crawled into the bathtub with my clothes on and turned on the water. The water was clear and cold as it washed away the filth that I had slept in. My head began to clear and I remembered the desperate, pleading promises made, and yet, I knew that I would not make it through this day without my pills.

Finally feeling strong enough to get into clean clothes and forage around for something to eat, I sat on the side of the bed and picked around at a bowl of cheerios as I formulated my plan to get off of the narcotics that I had become dependent on. I had been forging prescriptions for some time, and had even been arrested a couple of times for it. “Just one more scrip,” I thought. The best plan, I decided, would be to forge a prescription and then taper myself off of the pills gradually to avoid the horrible withdrawal symptoms that plagued me anytime I went more than a couple of hours without the drug in my system. Still weak from the night before and nauseated from the cereal, I headed down to the pharmacy – fake scrip in hand. It seemed to take longer than usual for the prescription to be filled and I could feel my muscles start to twitch as the level of narcotic in my system started to drop. I paid for the pills and hurried out the door, trying to beat the withdrawal symptoms before they had a chance to really take hold. In a scene that seemed right out of a movie, the police – who were waiting for me on the other side of the door – flanked me on both sides, grabbed the bag holding the prescription, and shoved me to the ground. I felt my head spinning as I was handcuffed and pulled to my feet. As I sat in the back of the police car, under arrest, I once again remembered the promises I had made to God in my desperation to stay alive the night before. I leaned my head back against the plastic seat in the cruiser…tired, I was so very tired. In that moment, I knew that all was lost. It was August 23, 2003 and I was still breathing, my body was alive… just barely – but my soul … my soul was dead.

It was August 23, 2003 - the day that I would, more than at any time in my life, begin to understand two things:  Powerlessness, and Grace.

Thoughts on Addiction and Recovery...A Disclaimer

Drugs always wear off eventually, but addiction is forever – at least that’s what all the professionals say. I don’t really know how much I believe that. There are so many concepts out there about what addiction is, and what the treatment should be. Is it a disease, a choice, a lack of morality? Is it rooted in genetics, or trauma, or escape, or a deeply ingrained selfishness or sense of entitlement? I am not writing this blog to answer any of these questions for the simple reason that I do not know what the answer is. I have a sneaking suspicion that eventually, it will be proven that the answer is quite possibly “all of the above.” I think addiction is much more complex than anyone really even realizes at this point in time. I am writing simply to share my journey - from highest mountain tops, and the darkest valleys....and all of the quiet, peaceful, sometimes a little bumpy, roads that connect them all together into one path...

My addiction started with medical issues and quickly became my escape plan to get away from a life filled with emotional pain, anxiety, and insecurity. It eventually progressed into selfish and immoral choices based on my own needs, resentments, and inability to acknowledge the good in my own life. Addiction made me a horrible human being. It took my life away, and eventually – it killed my soul.

Today, I have been clean and sober for more than 5 years, by the grace of a higher power and a little help from the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. Some days it's easy, and some days are excruciating...but there is not a day that passes that I do not find my way to my knees and say a prayer of gratitude for the very fact that I am alive to tell my story.

This world of the internet is amazing. The first people to read this will likely be my friends...and whoever they pass it along to. Perhaps a stranger or 2 will do a google search on addiction or recovery and click this link to find themselves reading in these pages...who really knows how far the ripple will really reach?? But somewhere, someone is hurting, and confused, and sick...feeling alone, and crazy, and desperate. If this blog finds that one individual or someone that loves them and wants nothing more than to help...and just one word gives them what they need on that one day....

Well, then it will all be worth it, won't it??

My name is Christy, and I am a recovering addict....