When I Remember to Be

"Faith is interesting – when you remember it, and you are in the middle of it – it is really liberating and peaceful – as human beings, our minds can forget really easily what that feels like. People ask me what my tattoo means and if I am 'liberated by faith,' and I have to say, ‘Yes, when I remember to be...’"

-Cathy DeBuono

Anyone who knows me, even a little, knows that I am a sucker for an amazing quote. Of course, I have lots of favorites from philosophers, classic authors, and great lyricists. But then there are the little side notes that I stumble upon, almost accidentally - in the most surprising places, from the most unexpected people...and these are the ones that stick with me and make me think the hardest...the ones that I end up memorizing without even trying.

A couple of weeks ago, I came upon this quote from actress Cathy DeBuono in a 3 year old article that popped up in a google search about a movie that she once starred in. I found the article, which you can read here, on a sports site - a pretty straightforward bio/profile of the collegiate volleyball player turned therapist turned actress and activist. These words were at the end of the piece...and, even as I read them, they cut right to my heart...and have remained there ever since. I am convinced that Google and the universe aligned in that moment, because these words were exactly the ones I needed to find.

I am not really a big fan of the holidays. This time of year seems to spike the level of difficulty in every single area that I struggle with even on my best days...depression, anxiety, addiction, insomnia...every little neurosis just seems to get bigger, sadder, and crazier. I ruminate about the mistakes I have made, the people I have hurt, and been hurt by, and lost along the way. I start worrying about the future and that I will ever have enough money to retire comfortably or a partner to love or be loved by and how I will go broke and grow old and die alone. I want to medicate. I want to obliterate every thought in my head and feeling in my heart with Xanax, Vicodin, and a bottle of Patron or a few really good, disgustingly dirty martinis. This is the time of year that I lose my faith.

And yes, my human mind does forget what it is like to stand in the middle of the feeling that no matter what is happening today...tomorrow is a new day, and a new chance...and that somehow I am exactly where I need to be in this moment, and the universe always works itself out the way it is supposed to - mostly without my input.

And then out of nowhere, with words on a page from a person that I do not know, I am reminded of every lesson that I have ever learned about choices and personal responsibility. Of course, the intellectual, educated, rehabilitated, 12 step part of me knows that the only control I have over events, situations, and feelings that seem unmanageable is how I choose to react to them. And whatever choices I am making today, I can change tomorrow, or next week, or right now - but I have to choose to do so. When the faith eludes me, I can curse my own faithlessness...or I can seek it out, find out where I laid it down, chase it down, and claim it as my own again. I will not escape the hole that I am in as long as I remain still and afraid - but the tiniest glimmer of hope, joined with purpose and intent, has the power to banish even the darkest of nights and light the path that the universe has all planned out for me. Delivered by faith...when I remember to be.

Deep down, pure, genuine, liberating, faith can never be truly lost. It never really goes away, even though I can't always see it...it never abandons my heart, even though I can't always feel it. It remains in me, even as I grope in the darkness to touch what I can't see...sometimes loud and screaming, and sometimes a voice I can barely discern, telling me that I am not done, that it is not over, and that a new day will always bring a new chance, a new choice, a new change...

Peaceful...Free...Delivered...

In the middle of it...

...When I remember to be.

---When I remember to be.

---When I remember to be.

I think I have a new mantra...I hope I don't have to pay royalties on it...

The Fable of the Porcupine

Fable of the Porcupine

It was the coldest winter ever. - Many animals died because of the cold. The porcupines, realizing the situation, decided to group together. This way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions even though they gave off heat to each other. After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their companions or disappear from the Earth. Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. This way they learned to live with the little wounds that were caused by the close relationship with their companion, but the most important part of it, was the heat that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.

Moral of the story: The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but the best is when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person's good qualities.

An Authentic Life: This Is Me

Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim.
Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself.
~Harvey Fierstein~

If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise.
~Johann von Goethe~

DOWNLOAD "THIS IS ME" BY JEN FOSTER FREE RIGHT NOW IN THE SHOP AT WWW.JENFOSTER.COM

If you were hated because of who you are, would you change yourself to fit in? Could you change yourself to fit in - or would it just be a big game of pretend? How long could you go on with the charade?

These are the questions I ask myself when I hear the gut wrenching stories of teenagers...children, really...who resort to desperate measures to end the pain and heartache in their lives caused by being bullied by the world around them because they are different. Sadly, a huge percentage of these young people are in the midst of the turmoil and confusion of discovering their own sexual identities and the fear that they will be scorned and rejected, not just by the bigger kids in the locker room, but by their very own families, spiritual leaders, and communities as well. I cannot even imagine going through this process today.

I initially came out as a lesbian when I was 23 years old. At that time, it was not a difficult process for me. After many years of not really understanding my feelings at all...not being able to really put a name to it, boyfriends, bad sex, and an even worse marriage...I met a woman, we fell in love, and I was home. This is how I knew it was right - because it was home. At that time, I was fortunate NOT to be in high school. Instead, I was living in the middle of Dallas' very large LGBT community. I was blessed to live less than 1 mile from the largest Metropolitan Community Church congregation in the world - and to have, at my disposal, loving and caring leaders, pastors, and friends to guide me through the process of understanding who I was as a woman. I never, to any large extent, experienced the discrimination that many LGBT folks find themselves battling every day.

And then I became addicted...got in trouble....went to, well, you know..."camp"... And my world completely changed.

The treatment program that I was required to complete was rigid, unforgiving, and based upon the idea that relentless confrontation of undesirable behaviors would make you a better person. Twice a week, I was required to attend a group in which everyone sat in a circle and confronted each other about the bad behaviors that they had observed during the week. I routinely was confronted for what was termed as "unhealthy behavior" for things like talking to one particular peer too often, glancing at another person in the shower room, and spending too much time with other "obviously gay" peers in the recreation area. I never allowed these confrontations to end without a statement in my own honor...usually something like "I am not here to recover from homosexuality, I am here to recover from addiction. I am not interested in a relationship here, and have not engaged in the behavior that I am being accused of." These sessions were often followed by a summons to the unit commander's office to receive consequences for my "undesirable" behavior "- typically being restricted to my tiny cubicle for anywhere from 1 day to 2 weeks. And still I was steady in my own identity.

Upon leaving this program, I was mandated to complete an aftercare program in a transitional living center that was run by a fundamentalist christian organization - and this is where my struggle really took place. I was alone, vulnerable, and very afraid that if I did not change every thing about my life, that my sobriety would be short lived and I would find myself right back in the horrible place that I had just left. The first Sunday that I was there, the other residents were lining up for church and I told the staff on duty that I was not interested in attending. Immediately, the women in the line began to whisper among themselves that I was not a christian and that the devil had a hold on me. In my state of weakness and turmoil, it took that little to shake my foundation. What followed was one of the most difficult times I have ever experienced. I went to the services, I listened to the pastor saying things like "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." My program counselors sought to determine the "cause" of my gayness" so that they could help me "overcome that issue." I sought the counsel of the church leaders...and was led to the standby scriptures that are so often utilized by the christian right to condemn homosexuals and to instill fear and hatred into our families and friends. As I retreated further and further into a dark and lonely closet that I had never really experienced, I was heavily rewarded by the people that I was beginning to rely heavily on for my new identity. They were my examples of "good" people - people that were not going to Hell. I thought about dating men...I carried a purse...I started growing my hair - all things to please and appease the world that I was in. I had friends, I had the respect of many people, and most of all - I wasn't going to Hell. The problem was that, inside, I was already in Hell. I was living completely contrary to the person that I knew myself to be.

Separating from that situation turned into a whole new coming out process for me - this time in an environment not nearly as friendly or accepting as the original one had been. I had developed relationships and attachments to people based on someone that I was not, and so my pulling away from them felt very unfair to them...and then I felt guilty and bad as a result of that. Rumors flew about the endings of those relationships and multiple attempts were made by various people to track me down, pull me back, and save my soul. I ended up feeling angry, stalked, and crazy...and it took a great deal of time for me to move back into space where I felt comfortable with myself. Honestly, I am not sure that I have ever come closer to relapsing than I did in the middle of all of that...it was a terrible time for me - a time when I wondered if I would ever be accepted and loved for what was really inside of me.

Fast forward to today...I have found my home again, and am very comfortable here. I don't fly a rainbow flag from my porch, but I refuse to hide who I am or who I love. I speak openly at work and in social circles, and I stand up for what I know when others around me harass, ridicule, or slander others. It doesn't take activists to create change in the world...it takes regular people like me, just one at a time, speaking out against that which is wrong, and refusing to accept that which is unacceptable. It should be noted, too, that I have been able to reconnect with some of the people from that fundamentalist church via social networking, and I am convinced that they are well intentioned and kind individuals that were only trying to be helpful - I do not believe them to be evil, or purposefully hurtful at all...they simply have a different truth than I do. Finally, I get that there are plenty of arenas in which coming out is risky business, however, I also believe that it is the single most important thing that we can do in setting the example that we are willing to put our money where our mouth is and live our lives honestly and without fear. I understand the pain of our young people...the uncertainty, the shame, and the drive to hide their true selves from a world that seeks to destroy them. I understand the feeling of wanting to hide, to disappear, even to die because there is no place that feels safe, or comfortable, or loving. And if they are reading now, I want them to know that it gets better...there is a place for you in this world.

I am writing this blog today, because I have lots of acquaintances via this amazing internet whose reach goes far beyond what mine ever will. Icons and heroes of a community that has been a refuge to me for most of my adult life...celebrities like Suzanne Westenhoefer, Jen Foster, Cathy Debuono, Jill Bennett, Melissa Etheridge, Amy Ray, Emily Saliers, Ellen Degeneres, Rosie O'Donnell, Sarah Bettens, Meredith Baxter...these are just a handful that have been influential in my own life - there are so many more. I want to challenge all of these people, and the publicists and press that surround them to take action!! Make videos for the It Get's Better project, or the We Give a Damn Project...reach out to your audiences, to your politicians, your voices are loud and listened to - use them!! Please...there are lives at stake...your work may never be more important than it is right now.

7 Years...Amen

At times this world can be so beautiful, it's hard to take it all in.
But don't you be afraid, just let it rain...and say Amen.

~Jen Foster~

August 23, 2010 marks 7 years of sobriety in my world...7 years since my world fell apart...7 years of slowly picking up the pieces and figuring out how they all fit back together...

August 23, 2003 was a Hell hot day in Dallas, and I guess I could say that it was the worst day of my life. Then again, I suppose I could also say it was the best. We all have moments in time that alter not just our circumstances, but the very essence of who we are...and, for me, this day and the weeks, months, and the immediate years that followed held many of them.

So much has changed, in fact, that I cannot even recognize the person that I was before I got sober. That person had such different values and perspectives than my own - and yet, there is proof of this existence in a handful of writings, photos, and legal papers that I keep in a box underneath the bed that I sleep in today - 700 miles from where it all happened. Most days, it might as well be 10,000. Some days, it feels more like 10. Always, I am aware that the road back is as short as the journey here has been long.

Every year on this day, I make a point of going back there in my mind and making a concerted effort to re-experience the "highlights" of the two years after my active addiction ended. Police cars, courtrooms, handcuffs, strip searches, work detail, letters home, family visits that never happened...endless days, and nights that seemed even longer. I don't force my mind back there to punish myself - I do it to remind myself of where I can never be again. For whatever the reasons I will say out loud that I stay sober...the real thing that keeps me clean is the pure and unadulterated terror of returning to that place. There is nothing that I fear more - and nothing makes me more grateful to be alive, and to be who I am now than the humbling memory of the path that led me here.

And then I think of how the story has changed. I think of how broken I was, and how strong I am now - mainly because I was just too dumb or hard headed to understand that giving up was, indeed, an option. 7 years - more than 2500 days - have passed since then, and each and every one of them has begun and ended with a prayer of thanksgiving to the higher power of my understanding - an entity for which I have no name...only the concept of a universal energy that encompasses the ideals of truth, love, compassion, wisdom, kindness, tolerance, patience, humility, forgiveness, mercy, and faith. The hours in between are filled with steps counted one at a time in the hopes that enough of these steps taken consecutively will eventually come together to create some sort of productive and meaningful life that is worth at least an honorable mention. It's a work in progress. When I stumble, I get up. When regret threatens to choke me, I fight myself out of it's grasp until I can breathe again. When the winds of change blow so hard that forward movement seems impossible, I go through the motions anyway...step...step...step...step. Eventually, the storm will calm and I will be on my way once again. Building my life upon these foundations has brought immeasurable joy and blessed me with the ability to reach beyond my comfort zones and into the places where my dreams await. There is less fear, and more risk (calculated as it might be) with the understanding that any given failure will not be my last...or necessarily even the end of the story at hand.

Looking out into the rain at the dawn of the 8th year of my second chance...I acknowledge the battered and broken person that has become a mere whisper in my mind in the darkest moments of night...and I celebrate the strong, hopeful, (and ever so slightly neurotic, many would say) individual that has taken her place. And each breath I draw into my lungs is released as a prayer of gratitude to the universe...

...Amen, once again.

The List

From the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous:

8
We made a list of the persons we had harmed and
became willing to make amends to them all.
9
We made direct amends to such people whenever possible
except when to do so would injure them or others.

I have a list. Anyone whose life has ever been touched by the disease of addiction has a list. The list that I keep consists primarily of those people and offenses that I remember, however vaguely - but I am certain that there are individuals out there that I am not even aware of whose names should be added. If I got really honest, I could likely fill a novel sized book with situations and events in which someone other than me was hurt, offended, saddened, or otherwise affected during the course of my active addiction.

Early in my recovery, as I tried to burn through the steps in record time, I tried to "do" amends. I made it my mission to try to track down every soul that I was aware of ever hurting so that I could tell them I was sorry and make amends to them in whatever way I needed to. One person after another responded with a mostly lukewarm "That's Nice" or "I'm Happy For You." Some were a little slow to respond, and some never did at all. A handful made it clear that no amend that I could ever make would undo or repair the damage that had already been done. Since that time, I have learned more about amends and what they are supposed to involve. I have accomplished some milestones related to step 9 that I never thought I would be able to accomplish. It has taken great patience and monumental effort, along with deep compassion and forgiveness in most cases - to begin to rebuild some of the relationships that were lost so long ago. But it is the images and memories of that handful of people that stay with me...visiting my dreams and occupying the dark corners of my heart that I only become aware of in my most solitary and silent moments. This is the regret that I carry with me. Some days it feels like it is strengthening me, and others, it seems to be crushing me. But always, it is there...like a boulder that I can't seem to set down.

Every night as I leave my job, I pass under an arch that reads "Let Go and Let God." It is a concept that all in recovery are familiar with, for it is only when we loosen our grasp on trying to control that which we cannot, that a new freedom opens up to us - not surprisingly, we also have to be ready for that freedom in order to really, fully, completely let go and give in to the surrender. Almost on a daily basis, I ask myself what purpose the pain and regret are serving in my life and what it will take to finally be able to loosen my grip on them, turn them over to the care of the universe, and free myself from limitations that they put on my own growth and happiness. Sometimes I think that keeping them with me provides the punishment that I feel I deserve for some of the things that I have done, and sometimes I think holding on to those regrets is my way of keeping those people with me that I cannot bear to think of living the rest of my life without...even though I know in my mind that there is not enough good intention and positive change in the world to restore what those relationships once were to me.

And so, even as I continue to go through the process of righting wrongs, rebuilding that which I destroyed, and marking off my progress with tiny little check marks...I doubt that I will ever be able to completely relinquish the hope that one day the list will be complete.

Until that day, I keep working.

The Things We Cannot Change

I open my lungs
To breathe in forgiveness and love
Haunting me now
Reminders of how I used to be...

...Tell me how to make right
All the wrong turns that I've learned
So this can all end tonight...

-Chris Daughtry