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

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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...