"Been To Hell, Thanks"

I'm at Asilomar, a state beach down just south of the Monterey bay here in California. Most of the year, it's cold and clouded over, but this weekend there's nothing but clear skies and a mild wind. The green-blue ocean sends waves to crash over protruding rocks, shallow tidepools, and a gray-white, sandy beach. Across the ocean road is an area of protected sand dunes covered with local flora. A mile-long boardwalk winds through the dunes. Along the walk are many benches facing out to the ocean, and it is there that I have parked myself to blog. It's beautiful here, and a great spot to get centered. 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm still an addict and my brain still does some weird shit sometimes.

There's a conference center here, and a conference is going on this weekend. It's a business session for the northern California / Nevada churches for the demonination I grew up in. Undoubtedly I know many, many people there. I'm sure a lot of them would be glad to see me. But I'm not here for the conference, I'm here to play piano for a church service tomorrow. And besides, I need to get my head straight before I even attempt to walk through the world of all those people I used to know. There are a few people here this weekend, too, that I owe amends to, but even that isn't what's troubling me.

Strange, that I should write about prayer and meditation as a way of getting my head straight. It used to be firing up a bowl or a joint--that was getting it together. Now, it's the need to be more spiritual, check in with what's going on inside, instead of ignoring the feelings and squelching them. I got into town last night and felt great. Even this morning when I woke up, I was fine. Then, all of a sudden, insecurity hit and it came like a crushing blow. I remember earlier in my sobriety, when serenity was becomming the norm. I would have moments where it would disappear, vanish, and my brain would once again be awash in all the addict insanity. I always hated it. Today has been like that, except it's the self-confidence issue.

I know many addicts in Recovery who are gregarious personalities. The friend I'm staying with this weekend is like that. They naturally put themselves out there; they're friendly, funny, the kind of people others are drawn to. Folks who are like that, and who suffer from this disease of addiction, often find one of their main challenges in Recovery to be the reigning in of their egos. For an addict like myself, who was plagued by his insecurity, I have the opposite challenge. I have to work on not selling myself short, on standing up for myself, being present in conversations with others and in my life. I have to remember that I am enough--no matter what the bullshit I carry around in my head might try to tell me.

I've made great, amazing strides at improving my self-esteem. So much so that I now consider myself as someone with a higher than average self-confidence. I've done the work. I've looked at the past and done what I could to make amends for the wrongs I've caused. I've looked at myself and deliberately worked to build up my self-esteem in healthy ways. I'm aware of my character defects and know that, with God's help, I can live life without acting on them. I have learned to accept myself for who I am as I am. An addict may be what I am, but it is not who I am. Working the program has given me the opportunity to learn and change and grow.

For whatever reason, today the brain kicked down this bullshit 'Zach, you're worthless' crap. And now I've got to work through it. I've got the tools, thougth, to do so: pray, meditate, try and help someone else. I've got the knowledge and experience now to recognize what is going on, to know that what the disease is telling me isn't truth. It's just a tv show Uncle Steve is watching. It's just a feeling. It won't kill me, and it will pass. Because all things do.

It's not an unfamiliar or unexpected feeling for me, either. I'm not involved in church anymore. This place I'm at, right now, is a deeply spiritual one for me, a place I went to often during the time when I was involved in the church. I know I have program business to do--the amends--and that can be scary stuff. Mostly, though, I'm feeling a touch of less-than because I don't really fit in with these folks anymore (if I ever really did). I don't want to go on a long diatribe about why I don't participate in church these days. Maybe the best way to simplify it is to say that I went to church all the time growing up, but never did I see God there. I don't recall hearing about how to let God work in my life. It wasn't until I got into the rooms of Recovery that I truly saw God working directly in people's lives.

In meetings, we sit around and discuss the harsh realities of our lives. That feels far more real to me than sitting in pews or chairs at a church service. Church is a social place where polite conversation is had. I've never been to a church function where people talked to each other about the horrors of abuse, of being homeless, of not feeling comfortable in their own skin. Those kind of conversations fall under the Too Much Information banner, it seems. The things we deal with in the rooms are the issues polite society doesn't discuss, either because they condemn us or because they flat-out have no idea what to say or how to handle it.

I need the Real that we talk about in meetings. I need to hear the stories of being raped, of being strungout, of being passed-out drunk in jail. I need to hear others talk about their emotional pain--feeling lonely, desperate, and hopeless--because it's how I felt for so long. I need to share and talk about my own trauma, too. I need to have a spiritual practice, a fellowship, with other people who I can talk to about what it's like to be me, listen to them talk about what it's like to be themselves, and where we all nod and understand because we can relate. We truly do understand. It's right there in the literature: the theraputic value of one alcoholic or addict helping another is without parallel. Only we truly know what we go through.

They say religion is for people who don't want to go to hell; 12-steps is for people who've been there.

"Just Asking Questions"

This blog is about my life in Recovery. Some days, the focus is a little less on the 'recovery' part and a lot more on the 'my life in' part. Today is one of those days.

I've just come from my first day back at class after being on a very late-term spring break. We had another panel discussion in my Issues of Diverse Populations class and today's was about Heterosexism--the oppression of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, & Transgendered individuals. As was the case for when we did the Sexism panel, there were some comments from my classmates that I strongly disagreed with.

I suppose before I go any further, I should re-out myself as a progressive liberal hippie commie pinko, just in case anyone reading this isn't familiar with my political beliefs.

There are a couple of my classmates who are extremely prejudiced, who hauled out their bibles yet again to talk about how gays are evil and should be killed. Okay, I'm overstating, they didn't go that far. But it's the kind of opinion and argument that really pisses me off. I have to practice a lot of patience and tolerance when someone voices that opinion. I don't argue with them or try to change their minds, but I don't remain silent either. My comment today was about a piece of legislation being considered in one of the US states that would make it illegal for the word 'gay' to even be said in public schools. I thought it an excellent example of institutional oppression. Ultimately, that's what any 'Ism'--racism, sexism, etc.--is about: the institutional practices that perpetuate the oppression in our society. But I'm getting away from my point.

One of the people who was making thinly veiled anti-gay comments was a black man. I don't want to wade into the waters of bad blood between blacks and gays here; suffice to say, if you aren't aware that it exists, trust me it does. It surprises me, though, every time, to hear biblical arguments used by blacks against gays because it was those same exact arguments that were used against blacks to justify slavery. The idea that being gay isn't 'natural'? When slavery was legal, it was thought that the black man's 'natural' place in society was as a slave. The bible says being gay is wrong? The bible talks about slavery a LOT more than it talks about being gay.

My point with all this (and yes I do have one) is a question I discuss with other deep-minded individuals from time to time: must a tolerant society be tolerant of those who are intolerant?

Many say, "yes, absolutely; that's what being tolerant means!" But I wonder. Here in America, we get all up on our high horses about 'free speech'. An example that comes to my mind is how organizations like the Ku Klux Klan are allowed to organize and march in parades. People don't like it, but it's allowed because of their first amendment rights to speech and assembly. But how willing are we to allow a black nationalist group to march? Less so, to put it politely. I see the Tea Party faction of the conservative political spectrum in this country holding rallies with their anger and their guns, and how it's broadcast with almost a celebratory air on national television while they shout angrily with their antigovernment agenda. Would a group of well-armed Muslims be as well publicized and in such a favorable light?

And at the end of the day, how much of this is just opinion? My opinion is that anyone LGBT is as much of a human being as I am. Some people think that it's their personal mission handed down to them from God to get rid of LGBT folks. Who is right? Is anyone?? What about when intolerance becomes more than just harassment? What about when it turns to murder or genocide? If it's agreed that we need to step in and stop that kind of intolerance, why is it okay to be accepting of lesser forms of intolerance?

I'm not pretending there are any answers to these questions, I'm just putting them out there, asking them, because they're questions I ask myself and others. Asking questions leads to debate, leads to new and different ideas. Change happens when we stop going along with the status quo and start examining what goes on around us, in our lives, and inside ourselves. Maybe even it's the asking of questions that says more about who we are as human beings that any answers ever could. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? What do I stand for? What will I accept from the people around me?

It's a privilege to be awake, to be sober and clear-minded enough to ask questions. It means I have the opportunity to examine my life, the people in it, and the world around me. It means I have the opportunity to stand up for what I believe in and take action on causes I care about. It beats the hell out of mindlessly going along with whatever is thrown at me.

“Easter Miracles”

I have a saying: St. Patrick’s day is just another day if you don't drink. I'm feeling a little like that about Easter today. I was raised Christian, was very involved in church growing up. I've spent a lot of time studying the bible, Christian history, and had many conversations with my friends who are ministers. At one point, I had seriously considered going into the ministry, had even applied and been accepted to seminary.

These days, I’m barely involved at all. I never go to church. Occasionally, I’ll play piano for services, but that’s pretty much it. And that’s okay. I have my spiritual practice, my own faith discipline, through going to meetings. It’s what works for me and that’s what’s important. Later today I’ll be getting together with my family for Easter dinner and that will be the extend of my holiday-related activities. I think I better change subjects; I’m feeling a bit of Easter scrooge creep in.

I’m feeling better today, regarding all the stuff from Friday night. I had a long, good talk with my sponsor. The brain is much calmer, thankfully. Right now I’m enjoying an iced coffee at one of my local cafes and doing some people watching. It’s great weather outside and very few cars on the road. Lots of folks here, though. Lot’s of parents with their kids; lots of couples with their little tiny dogs; lots of couples, period.

I seem to be having a gratitude moment. I may not have a girlfriend or a wife & family, but that’s okay. I’ve got good friends, clean air, a place to live. It’s one of those moments where everything feels just fine. I can take notice of little things. Birds chirping, bugs in the dirt. Hmm. Suddenly I want to call, ‘ya goddamned hippie!’ on myself :)

You know, early Recovery is tough. Bit by bit, though, you get those moments of peace and serenity. There’s the big crash coming down off the pink cloud and things get much harder. And then they get harder. And then they get even harder. In time, and with continuing to work the program on a daily basis, things do finally start to get better. The ups and downs even out and life just becomes... life. We get the opportunity to make life what we want it to be.

For me, a lot of what I want out of life is what I have right here and now--sitting peacefully, being a part of the world, being okay with myself. Fame? Fortune? Eh, that’s not exactly top priority. Just being okay, happy to be me and be at peace. That was what I wanted for so long, and it’s through working the program that I’ve found it. It’s not like that all the time, not every moment of every day, but more often than not and much more so than I would have guessed possible. That’s the Easter miracle in my life: being sober and being at peace within myself.

"Meeting Drama"

About half a mile from my apartment is a huge city park. There are tennis courts, tons of picnic tables, huge grassy areas, a duck pond, baseball diamonds, huge wooden castles for kids to climb on, and--at the far end--a rose garden. I'm sitting on a bench there today, watching a wedding rehearsal. Okay, I'm also watching the occasional scantily clad jogger go by. Springtime really brings out the shoulders. Seriously, though, I pass this park many times throughout the week. It's on one of my main walk/run paths. Today, I have a lot on my mind, so I've sat myself down on a bench to calm my mind and see if I can slow down all thoughts and take stock of what I'm actually feeling. The air is pleasant. Not too warm, not too cool, and a hint of a breeze moves the leaves of the rosebushes and a nearby... whatever kind of tree that is. Bored little kids in the wedding party run and laugh and screech.

The program teaches us to simplify, but even if I simplified, I'm not sure how short I can make all that I'm thinking. How about this: at my homegroup last night, a member rudely interrupted another member while they were sharing. It was really inappropriate and I said so right then and there. He copped a resentment and bailed, saying he hated the meeting and everyone in it anyway. After the meeting, a third member came up and told me I was wrong to do what I'd done.

Actually, yeah, that is pretty well simplified. Here's the extra stuff I'm leaving out, though: the person who was rude has been warned before about it. He's been called on it, both outside of and in meetings. He's been reminded that it's a non-crosstalk meeting. It was still enough of a problem that there have been multiple complaints by other members--so many that we had a discussion about it at our last business meeting. It was decided that the way to handle it was to be very direct, to let this member know immediately when he was being inappropriate. As the General Secretary, the job fell to me. The other part that I'm leaving out is that the member who criticized the way I handled the situation was someone who I've had personal conflicts with before and was not at the business meeting where we discussed the situation. He and I didn't come to blows but it got heated enough between the two of us that the other folks standing around were saying, 'calm down'.

I've had a brief conversation with my sponsor about what happened, and he gave me some good prayer homework to do, but I'm waiting for a chance to talk to him about it some more.

The reason I'm having trouble sorting through my thoughts on this is I'm just having so many thoughts about it. I could write about the importance of maintaining the integrity of the meeting so that everyone has a place they know is safe. I could write about how we walk into the meetings without any sense of discipline or compassion and that part of going to meetings and listening to others' shares is learning to be respectful. I could write about my own issues with confrontation, how being assertive is something I've had to learn and that it is still difficult for me (very tempting). I could easily go off on this member I've had issues with, about what shoddy recovery they have and how judgmental and disrespectful their own shares are. Actually, that was some more good simplification.

But there is deeper stuff going on here. As I was walking over, and even sitting here in the rose garden, I thought about how I wish I had a girlfriend to support me in all this. As in, to stroke my head [re: ego] and tell me it's okay, that I did the right things, handled both situations well, etc. There were a couple of people last night who let me know my actions were very appropriate. Three of us had a coffee fellowship following the meeting and there was a lot of talk about how something needed to be done and, now that the situation has been dealt with, the vibe in the meeting is much better.

This happens from time to time in meetings. People are loud, rude, and disruptive. When they get called on it, they cop a resentment and leave. I know that I'm not responsible for this guy's feelings, and I'm not sure I feel too bad about letting him know he was out of line. I mean, how else can we learn when we're fucking up if no one tells us that we are? I depend on the people in my life to tell me when I'm in the wrong because I can't always see it. I wish I hadn't had to have said something to this guy, though. I wish he'd been able to hear when people talked to him before. I just hope that he finds another meeting that he wants to go to, a sponsor he wants to listen to, and learns how to listen when his friends call him on his bullshit.

Enough people expressed their support that I feel more or less okay that I did the right thing, and it was what the group had decided needed to be done. I still wasn't happy about having to do it, and I was really sorry to see him bail, but that was his choice--no one made him leave or even suggested to him that he do so. I can remind myself that he was the one who had been consistently rude. I can tell myself that I did my job as a trusted servant, carried out the will of the meeting as expressed by group conscience.

As for the personality conflict, I can counsel myself that even though I let somebody get to me (who gets to me far too often), I wasn't an asshole back to him; I was being attacked in a very underhanded way but I stood my ground without resorting to personal attacks back. It was choppy waters, spiritually, but I navigated it to the best of my abilities. Not perfectly, definitely not perfectly, but better than I would have in the past.

Progress, not perfection, I guess. That's all any of us get. It's the best any of us can do.

"Old Journals"

Last night I stumbled across one of my old journals from about ten years ago. Reading it was a bit of a trip.

Many of the things I wrote about were things I still think about today. Things like needing a job, feeling fat, and generally wondering what the fuck is wrong with the world--especially when it comes to how miserable so many people are with their jobs. The insomnia issues were there, and obsessions about women too. Some things I wrote about were very different than how things are today. There were many of entries about weed, like trying to control the smoking by taking breaks to 'prove' to myself I didn't have a problem. Booze was in there, too.

I wrote a lot about being unhappy with life and waiting for it to get better. Things like, if only I moved; if only my band got discovered; if only this, if only that, etc., etc., then I'd be happy. There would even be the occasional entry about how things were going well and I was happy. There were entries too--particularly from the times I wasn't smoking--where I talked about how miserable I really was and how that’s why I was always getting fucked up.

As has been shared by others and is true for me, what's different now is that everything has changed and nothing has changed.

I still look at the world and think, "what the fuck?!" In fact, one of my big hopes for when I pass from this world into the next is that I get that question answered. I'm not drinking or smoking myself to sleep anymore, obviously. The weight is an issue for me right now, but it's something I'm working on; I exercise these days--whether it's running, walking, pushups or dumbbells--and that's something I never used to do. Sometimes I do still get that feeling of waiting for life to happen, but for the most part I combat it by taking action, doing something to make sure I'm living life in the here and now.

I can see the differences between then and now, but the similarities are what struck me. And it isn't so much any of the things I've written about here, just a general 'I know this guy' feeling. Like, I'm still who I am--or maybe even more so that who I am is who I was. The Zach inside is still the same Zach. On the one hand, I have no idea if that makes any sense. On the other, well duh of course I'm still Zach and always have been.

It was interesting, regardless, to get a better picture of myself and be reminded that there are just certain things about who I am. One of those is that I'm someone who thinks about the world around me; I don't just go through life on autopilot. Ten years ago, I was restless, irritable, and discontent. Today, I do still feel those things from time to time, but as part of the normal human experience.

A couple similarities stood out that were really good to see, but even in those I can see how I've changed. The importance of my music was in there. My music is still very important to me, but I no longer do it under the sole hope or justification that I'll become rich & famous for it; it is truly my art now, my hobby, and I do it for myself because I enjoy doing it. God was the other thing. There were entries, prayers to God to save me and lift me out of my misery. I've shared in meetings that I came into the program having a higher power in my life, but I didn't know how to use it. Now I understand that I have to do my part, take action, even if that action is nothing more than letting go and letting God take care of whatever it is I’m obsessing over.

I’m not always diligent about keeping a journal, but it’s something I’ve done off an on for most of my life. Going back and reading about what it used to be like is an education, both in terms of my forgetting how bad things were and also seeing that even in the midst of my active addiction, I was still me. It’s another stepping stone on the path of self-acceptance.

"Women And Men"

Less than an hour ago, I stepped out to have a cigarette. My eyes darted up the block to watch an attractive woman in a low-cut top and skin-tight sweats step onto the street and start walking towards her car. On the sidewalk was a man pushing his baby in a stroller. His wife was a few paces behind him, walking their dog. If I could see his head turn to follow the tight sweats, she had to have seen it, too. Two thoughts occurred to me simultaneously: "damn dude, your wife is hot; what's the problem?" and "we men really are all just men aren't we?"

I suppose, in all fairness, I should mention that I've seen the occasional woman glance my way even though she was in the company of her own male escort. And I'm not about to pontificate about the glories of men being horny bastards. Some men hide it better than others; I am not one of them. More than once I've had female friends talk about my constantly darting eyes, wondering why I don't get whiplash from turning my head all the frickin' time. It's something I keep working on.

Whether coincidence, or by the will of my higher power, I had actually been talking with my sponsor on this very subject earlier today.

From time to time, a newcomer will walk into the rooms that catches my attention. Now, I'm a firm believer in the 'no new relationships for a year' suggestion and especially its flip-side 'leave the newcomers the fuck alone'. But I came to that by not listening to it and making some unfortunate, painful, mistakes. Suffice to say, I learned my lesson. I've also done plenty of work through therapy when it comes to my relationships with women. Followers of this blog know that I'm not dating right now while I take some time to work on being okay by myself. None of this means, though, that I don't notice when a good-looking woman sits down next to me.

The thing I was talking to my sponsor about was how frustrated I get by how I still obsess about a newcomer from time to time. I told him it's unwanted emotions. I don't act on it, don't try to hook up with her or call her, but I'd still rather not feel that, you know? He picked up on the guilt and shame I was feeling and had some good things to say. He reminded me that my actions are what counts, and that if I'm being genuinely nice and welcoming, but not crossing the line to where I'm hitting on her, then that's a very good thing. It's progress worth being proud of. As for being attracted to a good-looking woman? Congratulations, Zach, you're a man! He polished it all off with some of his loving sarcasm. "You should be ashamed of yourself for feeling that shame, dude." Love that guy.

I wasn't around other boys growing up. I didn't have any strong male influences in my life to explain to me that being a horny dude is just part of being a man. I didn't know that it was normal and okay to feel that. It feels stupid to write, but it's the truth. And somehow I doubt I'm the only guy who's ever been made to feel guilt and shame when it comes to sex. (Heh-heh. 'Comes' to sex.)

Something my sponsor is real big on is turning the 'unhealthy' obsessions into positive ones. It's just as easy to imagine a wildly good thing can happen as it is to let fear turn your mind to something terrible. Today he suggested why don't I imagine this: a sexy newcomer walks in and sits down. She sticks around, works the program. In a year or so she approaches me and says, 'ya know, Zach, I've worked through my steps and I've been doing this Recovery thing for a year now. I've always appreciated how sweet and respectful you've been to me. How'd you like to go have coffee?"

Maybe the one fantasy isn't any better than the other, but it seems to me that it's a much better thought than beating myself up for just being a man.

"Dealing With Conflict"

One of my sponsees is currently a meeting secretary. I'm proud of him for finally taking on that service position. It's been a little difficult for him and he's discovered an interesting little tidbit--that meetings 'look' very different when you're sitting in that chair. He's not someone who has any trouble with public speaking, but is finding a little bit of difficulty in keeping order. We've talked about it, how it relates to self-esteem and fear issues, and how it's a growing opportunity for him.

Sometimes he has difficulty with the louder members of the fellowship. Not everyone in a meeting is polite, of course. Most people wait their turn, wait for others to finish, are good about not engaging in crosstalk, etc. Not everyone is like that, though. He & I have talked about his hesitance to shut someone down when they've shared too long, or when they're sharing more than once and not giving others an opportunity to speak. He doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. He doesn't want to be rude. I try not to laugh too hard at this, because it is such a common feeling, and one that I know well and have struggled with plenty myself.

I've encouraged him to be assertive and to remember that a big part of his being the meeting secretary is keeping order and making sure the meeting runs smoothly. The other night, he managed to answer his own question. He was talking again about how he didn't want to be rude, then realized that it was actually the loud mouths who were being rude. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he will continue to grow and that this will prove to be a good experience for him in terms of learning assertiveness and having stronger boundaries. I've reminded him that he doesn't have to be rude when keeping order, just assertive. It sounds like this: "_____, you've already shared. Let's give everyone a chance to speak before sharing again." If the offender takes it personally, that's on them. Part of being in meetings is learning to listen.

For myself, I'm doing a little learning of the opposite of this right now. Sometimes, the appropriate thing to do is to let go, let a comment go by and not respond to it at all. A fellow member of the program sent me an email recently that was rude. He asked me to take over one of his service commitments, and he prefaced his request by making a comment about how, since I was unemployed, I should have plenty of time to do it. To make matters worse, he started off the email by admitting that he knew what he was saying might be considered rude.

This is one of the most frustrating things for me to listen to--when someone starts off by saying they know they're going to say something rude and insensitive and then proceed to say it anyway. It's like announcing, "I know I'm being an asshole, but I'm going to be an asshole anyway." It's so the opposite of what the program teaches us. Part of learning to be more spiritual is practicing compassion. If someone doesn't realize they're being a dick, I can mostly let it go. When someone DOES realize they're being a dick and then goes ahead and does it anyway, that's pretty damn lame.

Anyway, I didn't respond to the email, didn't buy into it, didn't tell the guy off or anything. I was all set to, was ready to rip this person a new asshole and explain to him that this is why people don't like him--because he knows he's being a dick and then goes ahead and is a dick anyway. He actively chooses not to change the thing he can--himself. But I didn't. And I called my sponsor up to tell him so. My sponsor gave me mad props for it, let me know he was proud of me for not feeding in to the bullshit. He reminded me that someone who doesn't have very good Recovery isn't going to be helped much by my telling them they're being an asshole. With sponsees, we can say that to a certain extent because they have asked us for help in improving themselves. Random program members, people we meet in real life? The best thing we can do is let it go. Or maybe even say a prayer about that individual learning some compassion.

Conflict is a part of life. Knowing the appropriate response is a skill we develop, as is being able to follow through and take the appropriate action. Sometimes that means speaking up, sometimes it means letting go.

"Strange Dreams"

I had some vivid dreams last night.

One of them was a using dream. It's been a long time since I had one of those. Can't say I like them any more now than I have before. It's always very emotional. All the drama of having relapsed, having to resign my service positions, etc. Usually I wake up and it takes me a little while to realize it was all just a dream. This time around, I actually went through that part of the process in the dream itself. Ugh. Not fond of those.

The other dream I remember is really weird. I was playing for the SF Giants (they're my favorite team in real life). Huff was at the plate, and for some reason I was behind him at the plate. No, not as the catcher, but like as an additional batter and I was way on the left side. When the pitch came in, it went by him, and I slammed it--hit a home run in fact. But then I 'realized' that I was doing it wrong--I was actually supposed to be standing opposite him at the plate and giving him advice. A lot like a batting coach but while he was at bat. I apologized for hitting his home run and he said it was all good. We must have been playing the world series or something, because the next thing I knew we'd just won big. I remember having a red squishy ball in my hand for some strange reason. In the midst of the celebration, I broke down into tears about how I don't belong there, that don't know anything about playing ball. Someone (I don't remember who) comforted me, and that's when I ended up with the red squishy ball. Totally bizarre.

I'm real big on dream interpretation, and what happens in a dream is almost never literal. I've looked at some of the scientific research, too. When we dream, it's our brain processing information, storing permanent knowledge. Think of how people will say that when you start dreaming in a foreign language, you know that you're really learning it. There are lots of books and websites out there with the meanings behind dream symbols. I had a look to see if I could piece together the baseball dream.

Playing in the baseball game could mean that I need to work on setting goals. The red ball is actually a good symbol; it denotes wholeness, completeness, and perhaps and need to get in better touch with the child within. The color red, just by itself, is an extremely potent dream symbol. It's deeply emotional and spiritual. It can symbolize passion, aggression, power, courage, as well as danger, violence, shame, or rejection. But how do you integrate these possible meanings into what the specific dream actually means? By relating it to what's happening in your life.

I've been praying a new prayer lately. I've been asking God to help me to find my place. Specifically when it comes to work. Being unemployed for going on a year now hasn't been easy. The jobs I had in the past were jobs I took because I didn't have any faith in myself to really be successful. I didn't see myself as a person of worth and value, someone who could succeed, so I took jobs that didn't challenge me, where I was treated as less-than, because I thought it was all I deserved. But I have an issue trying to relate this dream to my current circumstance. I do have goals--I'm going to school in order to become a therapist. Of course, that doesn't help me with income in the meantime.

Maybe the dream is just an acknowledgement of my continuing depth of excepting myself for who I am as I am--knowing that I am enough, as we say in the program. Maybe I have more confidence in myself than I realize. That's been a pretty common theme in my Recovery, actually. There have been many times where I've been the last to realize some character strength that I have. Everyone around me can see it, but I can't, because my brain is still trying to catch up to the new me I'm becoming.

Or it could always be that the dream is just a dream.

If I were to step back and look at it, my instincts tell me this: that the significant part of the dream is me being part of the 'winners' and feeling like I don't belong there. Three decades of feeling like one of the losers doesn't disappear overnight, and even with all the good things I do know about this new person I am and am becoming, there's still that holdover that I'm a worthless sack of shit. Thank God for Recovery, that I can trust now that that voice, the one that tells me I'm no good, is just my disease talking. It doesn't want me to feel good, because then the disease is losing and I'm winning. Maybe that's what the dream is for--so that I can look down at the red squishy ball in my hand and remember that the disease--as always--is full of shit.

"The Selves, They Are a-Changin"

A few days ago, I went to one of my regular meetings and didn't get what I needed from it. Stepping outside, I talked with a couple guys from the fellowship. They said they felt the same way, so we took ourselves out for after-meeting coffee and conversation. We ended up having a great time. We talked about the program, the experiences of our lives, what had brought us into the rooms, and the disease in general. We ended up comparing notes (so to speak) and got into some deep waters about the commonalities all of us with the disease share--things like not fitting in, feeling worthless, the struggle to become comfortable in our skin, etc.

Relationships with women came up. We shared horror stories of previous relationships, then we spent a lot of time talking about how Recovery seems to cause romantic relationships to crumble. We wondered why that might be. Someone mentioned that they just didn't have patience for the bullshit anymore. Someone else mentioned that they used to just look for sex and now they needed more than that. I talked about how Recovery changes us, how we become different people. The kind of people we used to be attracted to, we aren't attracted to them anymore and vice versa. As we change, become different people, we attract different people into our lives.

The literature talks about this. As we progress in our Recovery, we become less attracted to drama and trauma, and more attracted to sanity and serenity. I've seen it happen in my own life and it's surprising to me when it does. Maybe it's a girl I used to be obsessed with, then I'll see her months later and wonder how on earth I was ever interested in her. Or it can be that I meet someone new who has that goofy, zany personality I used to find so irresistible, that I now find myself saying, "eh... no thanks" to.

We all have a natural magnetism. Because of who we are, we naturally attract a certain kind of person into our lives. When we begin Recovery, who we are inside begins to change. Sometimes the change is subtle, sometimes drastic. Regardless of the scale, the change is real. Who we matched with before is, most of the time, not who we might match with now. A lot of the relationships we got into while we were in the grips of our disease aren't healthy. Holding on to those relationships can prevent us from making progress in Recovery. The unofficial 'rule' of not getting into any new relationships for the first year is a really good suggestion to help us guard against this.

As addicts/alcoholics, we are control freaks and we resist change. If we take away our main fix, we look for something else to fix with. Until we've gotten some experience living a new way of life, our disease-colored instincts are still in major effect. Many of us haven't yet learned that we are enough, and so we look to a relationship--another person--to do those things for us that we need to learn to do for ourselves.

Unless our partners are willing to change too, staying in our old, unhealthy relationships can prevent us from changing into the new people Recovery turns us into. It’s not that Recovery itself is death to relationships; Recovery is death to all the old, unhealthy aspects of our lives. As we become more spiritually healthy, the kinds of people we bring into our lives changes. There’s a lot of letting go to be done, a lot of faith to be had, and a lot of trusting in our higher power that needs to happen. But then again, isn’t trusting in our higher power to do what’s best for us the whole point?

"A Recovering People-Pleaser"

NA's 'Just For Today' hit me hard today. It was about people-pleasing--doing things just to gain the approval of others, and how it stems from low self-esteem. Sure, we like to feel good about ourselves. When people tell us they're proud of us or that they like us, or what we've done or said, that feels great. But doing things or saying things specifically to get people to like us? We just end up feeling worse about ourselves. Putting all that in some program terms, it doesn't help to fill the hole inside. It's as empty a feeling as the high we got from using.

I used to be a major people-pleaser. There was a time when I don't think there was a single action I took or comment I made that wasn't designed to get someone's approval. It showed up especially in my relationships with women. And honestly, it still can show up there. I still catch myself obsessively trying to form exactly the right words, measuring my responses out almost scientifically, all in an attempt to get a girl to like me, or to approve of me, like a little two-year-old trying to get mommy's approval. I'll come back to that in a minute.

Some folks don't see anything wrong with people pleasing. They say that if we can make other people happy, that's a good thing. It helps us to feel better about ourselves. What's wrong with making others feel good? In a word, everything.

Allow me to peel back a few layers of denial. First of all, people-pleasing is a type of manipulation. If we're trying to make someone feel better, how is that any different from trying to make them feel worse? It isn't. The problem isn't trying to make someone feel _bad_, it's that we're trying to make them feel what we want them to. We're exerting our will, forcing it on others; we're manipulating them. Just because we're manipulating them to feel good doesn't make it okay. Second, if we're saying something or taking an action to gain someone's approval, we're being dishonest; we aren't being who we really are. Worse than that, we've given away our own power, given someone else control over us. If the only way we have to feel good about ourselves is by having others approve of or praise us, then our happiness is dependent on the reactions of other people.

We can fall into a vicious cycle, one where we are constantly acting not according to the meeting of our own needs, but manipulating our behavior in an attempt to manipulate the behavior of others. And all the while, we aren't being our true selves. The psychologists refer to this as 'external locus of control'--and it is devastating for self-esteem. How we feel about ourselves is entirely at the whim of others. When they don't respond the way we want them to, we feel even worse about ourselves because we didn't manipulate them properly. I'm not saying anyone literally thinks in these terms, just describing the process.

A lot of us learned to be people-pleasers and peace-makers. It was the rules for my family-of-origin. It was what I learned growing up as the way to be in the world, to relate to other people, and to conduct myself. I was a smart kid and I learned it well. Like other addicts who grew up in dysfunctional families, I learned this behavior because I had to in order to survive. I learned that what other people thought was of prime importance. I learned nothing was more important than avoiding conflict at all costs. I learned that my own wants, needs, thoughts, and feelings were secondary. So I spent many years trying to please others, trying to make other people happy, because I had learned that my self-worth is tied directly to how good I was at doing that. If I failed, if other people didn’t respond ‘properly’, then the fault was mine.

It wasn’t until I got into Recovery that another way of living was presented to me. In Recovery, I learned new things: that I can’t really control other people and that my attempts to do so were a big part of what made my life so unmanageable. I learned that others don’t have to respond the way I want them to or think they should--even if all I’m doing is trying to make them feel good. I learned that I wasn’t a failure if they didn’t, and that I was creating my own insanity by continuing to try.

It used to drive me so crazy. I would do what I’d learned to do, but people wouldn’t respond the way they were ‘supposed’ to. It wasn’t until after a lot of Recovery (and some good therapy, too), that I began to see how I was playing out the patterns of my childhood. It was like a script I’d learned as a kid. I do this, then other people do that. And when they didn’t, I’d go crazy, kind of like a loud-mouthed director who was constantly shouting at his actors and crew that they weren’t doing it right. And because I had learned that I was supposed to be perfect, I thought it was my fault when other people didn’t follow the script. I had to learn that I’m not responsible for other people, for their actions, their words, and their feelings.

Pretending to be someone we’re not is not a recipe for building healthy self-esteem. Having our own happiness dependent on how others are feeling is a trap. Real self-worth comes from how we feel about ourselves, not how others feel about us. Learning to love ourselves for who we are, just as we are, is an huge part of Recovery.

“Walking The Walk”

I’ve got some tenth-stepping to do here. Followers of this blog have seen me rant about my issues with my Issues Of Diverse Populations class. It’s frustrating for me to sit through lectures on stuff I’ve spent most of my life learning on my own. I don’t like the professor’s teaching style. I really struggle a lot with keeping my mouth shut in the face of ignorant attitudes--because it’s not my place to tell others what to think, and I’m not about to act as if it’s my class to teach.

One of the coolest parts of working the program of Recovery is being able to admit our own mistakes. I won’t say that I’ve come to like this professor’s teaching style any better, or that she’s become less pedantic, but I will say that I have found a growing respect for her. Here, let me explain.

We’ve been covering the different prominent ‘ISMs’ in American society--Racism, Classism, Sexism, etc. Each student in the class was assigned one of these topics and wrote a research paper on it (mine was on Ageism). For the past few weeks, we’ve been having panel discussions. All the students who wrote their paper on Racism, for example, sit in front of the class and basically ‘teach’ it for their particular topic. Today’s panel discussion was on Sexism.

There were a couple of students in the class who clearly did not get the subject. Someone tried to argue about how women are second-class and need to be kept in their place. There was a point about how women shouldn’t be allowed into combat. My internal response to that was ‘why the fuck not?!’ We even had a bible thumper who started quoting scripture about the proper place of women. Okay, maybe I’m overstating things just a little bit, but that’s because it’s easier to me to type the gist of what people said than to list out the long ways they talked around their points.

We’ve had other heated discussions in this class, too. The units on homosexuality were rough. Lots of bible comments there. I suppose this would be the point where I could digress about how bizarre it is to me that just because someone is a member of one particular oppressed group doesn’t mean they won’t make every effort to oppress another.

My point is that I’ve had to listen to a whole LOT of ignorance this semester. I haven’t remained totally silent, I’ve made a few choice comments here and there, mainly because I’ve learned that, in situations like these, you have to really choose your battles carefully. People who believe gays are against God or that women are subordinate to men frequently believe that because it’s a tenant of their faith. Messing with people’s faith is, well, choppy water for sailing in.

As time has gone on, though, I’ve had to revise my opinion about the professor. Through all this ignorance, she’s remained far calmer than I ever would have been able to. She’s let everyone have their say, made sure that everyone’s opinion has been valued. It’s been pretty damn impressive.

I don’t always enjoy being wrong, but sometimes I do. Being able to admit it when I am is a skill I have learned through working the program. It’s important to be able to admit when I am wrong. The tenth step tells us to promptly admit when we’ve been wrong. So today, I waited until everyone was gone after class and let the professor know how impressed I was and that she had really earned my respect. And now I’m putting it down in print here, so y’all can know too.

Understanding differences, realizing the advantages that some people have over others, and the importance that everyone’s identity plays in who they are, is a big deal. I’ve probably said this before, that being ‘colorblind’ is the wrong approach to racism because people’s culture and heritage are important to them. The catch is to be ‘color-affirming’, to recognize the differences and embrace them. There’s nothing ruder than saying to someone that they ‘don’t act gay’ or that they ‘don’t sound black’.

We’re all people. The color of our skin, whether we’re men or women, if we’re gay or straight or something else entirely, these are all important aspects of who we are. Recognizing those differences and not judging each other according to them is the real challenge. Understanding that men and women are different, yet knowing that those differences do not mean women are less capable than men, that is the answer to sexism. Not falling into the trap of thinking all black people or latinos are ‘like that’ is the way out of racism.

Hmm, I seem to have ended up preaching a little here. How ‘bout that. All politics and activism aside, though, the real point is that for all my differences with my professor, she’s managed to earn my respect and admiration. And so I told her so.

"Work And Willingness"

Ugh. See, this is why it's so important to enjoy the good feelings while they're there--because this too shall pass. My allergies are really driving me crazy today. I know that's all it is, but it feels almost like a nasty cold. I hate being sick. Well, the good times pass, the bad times pass, and life keeps going on and on.

I've assigned myself the task today of getting caught up on my journal entries for my Issues of Diverse Populations class. After coffee. Yesterday, my folks took me out to dinner as a 'thank you' for helping them out. School came up and I mentioned that I'm doing well, but that it's because I'm doing the work. Last night, my friend that I took to the meeting and I had a similar conversation. Her son is in school and doing well, too. We talked about dedication, having the drive to do the work.

The speaker at the meeting last night was really good. It was a woman with ten years and you could just tell, listening to her talk, that she had really good Recovery. She was a bit of a book thumper, but the passages she brought up were important ones, like how no one who lives the program relapses. It got me thinking about how relapse isn't a part of my story and how I don't say much about that because I don't want other people to get the idea that I think I'm better than they are--I don't; it's just a part of my story, of what is.

For a topic, the speaker asked for people to talk about spiritual principles, and that was a great topic. The program is a spiritual one, after all, and it's living by the spiritual principles we learn in the program that allows us to Recover. I didn't get called on, but if I had, I would have talked about Willingness. If there is a reason why I haven't relapsed, my best guess is that I'm lucky enough to have been blessed with a lot of Willingness. I've been willing to keep going to meetings, willing to get a sponsor and work steps, willing to take service commitments, and willing to sponsor others. I've been willing to work the program of Recovery.

But willingness isn't the 'gift that keeps on giving' either. Doing the work isn't easy. It's simple, but it isn't easy. The reason I'm doing well in school is because I'm willing to do the work; the same is true for my Recovery. I have to keep on being willing. I try to call my sponsor regardless of how my life is going. I still take myself to meetings even when I don't feel like going. I pick up the phone when my sponsees or other people in the program call needing help; I'm there for others because they've been there for me.

A lot of people refer to the 12-step program as a new way of life. It is, most definitely. I tend to think of it more as a way of living. To me, thinking of it as a way of life would mean that all I do is the program. Thinking of it as a way of living means that the program is the foundation that allows me to have a life. The spiritual principles of the program are guides to help me deal with myself, with other people, and with this crazy world I live in.

Some people say no one's born with an instruction manual on how to live life, but I've found the 12-step program to be a really useful guide. Maybe it doesn't cover everything, but it comes pretty close. The program works, so I keep working it.

"Sunday Slice of Life"

Allergy season is upon us. Those of us who live here in the central California valley have a saying--if you didn't have allergies when you got here, you will soon. A friend of mine at the meeting the other night was bemoaning it, talking about how he just didn't feel right all hopped up on the antihistamines. It's a necessary evil. Either spend all day sneezing your head off, or take something. Speaking for myself, my nose and throat have been itching for a week. I've been taking my pills, too. In fact, last night I made the mistake of taking the wrong thing about ten o' clock and didn't get to sleep until around 5 am. Thank god for South Park on DVD.

It's a beautiful day, otherwise. Blue sky, warm air, and a slight breeze. The coffee shop I'm at is across the way from a park and there are plenty of opportunities for people watching. Dog watching, too. In fact, lots of cute girls on their bicycles. Moms are pushing their kids on the swing sets. It's a good day. Later today I'll be helping my folks out with some yard work, then this evening I'm taking a friend to a meeting. My schoolwork for the weekend is mostly accomplished. I got my Social Psych paper written, and I'm feeling good enough about the state of my music projects to let them be for a day or two. My brain feels pretty calm today, which is surprising, considering the insomnia from last night. There was a touch of not good stuff last night, fears about money, loneliness, all perfectly normal for someone unemployed and without a girlfriend.

Right now my view is filled with a group of people. I'm staring from behind my sunglasses at a sexy stoner chick. She's got long hair that's mostly a dark red, but with a healthy streak of white and a hint of blue in there somewhere. I notice her smooth skin and ample bosom. Her tall, lanky boyfriend stands beside her with his arms folded, not saying much. His gauge earrings and tiny hipster hat express the 'cool' fashions of the times. The two of them listen and laugh at the random ramblings of a couple of their stoner friends. They all seem like good people, just out enjoying a nice day. Behind me, a pair of guys talk nuclear politics. The damaged reactors in Japan, the moratorium on oil drilling and its effect on energy research. They pause occasionally to bark behavioral commands at their dogs which sit here with us unleashed. A 30-something mom, her nose and ears adorned with multiple earrings, talks on her cell phone while making sure her infant is out of the sun. A man picks up the free local liberal rag newspaper, flips through its pages of medical marijuana ads, and talks on his own cell phone about being hung over and how much he had at the different bars he went to last night.

This is life. Most of the time, there's not much happening, and how we perceive it has a lot to do with what our reality is. So much of what I'm feeling, I get to choose. Do I glance through the pot ads and think wistfully on getting stoned? Or do I just chuckle at how many there are of them? I could stare at the cute girls and wish I had someone to share my life, or I can just enjoy the sight and know there's nothing wrong with admiring a good-looking gal. Do I look at the good-looking guy and wish I was him? Or do I wonder privately how much speed he has to do to maintain that figure? Or maybe--just maybe--I take it all in and don't think much about any of it.

This is what being at peace is like, and I'll take a brief moment here to show some gratitude. This is what freedom from active addiction is like for me: having the opportunity and ability to just be in the moment and enjoy it. Not reacting to any of it, just taking it in and experiencing it. Very Zen.

For someone like myself, who in the past was accused so many times of never being satisfied, I have to admit that I'm feeling pretty satisfied right now. Maybe I don't have lots of money, or a big house, or a fancy car, but so what? Those things are nice, and I'm sure it'd be nice to have those nice things, but here's the thing about inner peace--it means being at peace, no matter where I am or what my circumstances are.

"Still Unemployed"

I'm at my favorite coffee shop, smoking a cigarette and waiting for my caffeine infusion. My plan had been to read, but wouldn't you know it, I've got other things on my mind. The book is for one of my classes. I have thirty pages to read and an online quiz to take about it. I've also got a research paper to write this weekend as well as six journal entries to catch up on. Oh and I seem to be falling behind in my statistics class, so it would probably be a good idea to do some general studying for that class as well.

The music side of things is getting better. I've been reworking the tracks for the Hip-Hop album and that's going well. I've still got one or two to remix, and I'll probably spend some time today on that. I'm pleased with what I've done. We'll see what the artist thinks, but the sound I'm looking for is there now. That's the thing about being a Producer--it's about the sound. The album stands at 8 tracks right now, and it feels about half done. I always try to overshoot the mark when it comes to the number of songs on an album; you always end up cutting something. Plus, I hate when people go totally lazy and do a ten-song album. Weak. If I can get the artist I'm working with to sign off on these 8, I can kick back on the project for a little while, let him write & record vocals. It's turning out to be a big project and that feels good. We've been throwing around names of other local artists we want to bring in to do guest vocals.

So what's on my mind? The thing I haven't mentioned in a while: work. Or, more specifically, the lack of it. This month is the one year anniversary of my being laid-off. I have done some temp work here and there, played some gigs, worked under the table for a friend or two, but I am still gainfully unemployed. It's not like I've been sitting around doing nothing. Lots of music. School is going well, and maybe I even put a little extra effort into doing those things well because I don't have a job right now. But there's still a weight on me because I don't have a regular job.

I've got a lot of feelings on the subject, but I try not to let them take over because most of them aren't healthy. The last job I had, I got it because I was trying to do what I was 'supposed' to do, what society told me to do: get a good stable job; start at the bottom & work your way up. Just get a job--any job--and be miserable because that's what everyone has to do. It's the whole erroneous conceit of America-the-meritocracy, this idea that if you just keep your head down and work hard, you'll be rewarded.

And hey, I know people that that's worked for them. It hasn't for me. My 'stable' job turned out to not be so stable after all. Being in a union didn't help me to hold on to my job, it was actually the direct reason I got laid off. Being a smart worker didn't lead me to promotions or new opportunities, it lead me to being stuck in my entry-level position. Standing up for myself & bringing my good ideas to the table didn't lead me to bigger and better things, it led to my not being trusted by my superiors because I was seen as a troublemaker who rocked the boat.

The teacher in my Issues of Diverse Populations class has a saying, talking about how just because you're a member of the dominant culture doesn't mean you will receive the benefits of it: "you can live in a rainy city and not get wet". Translation: just because I'm a straight-white-male from the middle class doesn't mean life is going to be easy for me. Just because society is set up for me to succeed doesn't mean I will.

Maybe if I had been someone to sit down, shut up, and go along with the way things are, I would have been more successful in life. But no, I have to be the guy who holds onto this crazy idea that I don't deserve to be treated like a bottom-feeder. I have to point out the racist, sexist, classist attitudes of those above me. 'Why can't you just play the game, Zach?!' Because that is not who I am. And I have not spent the past two and half years learning how to pretend to be someone I'm not. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Well, caffeine infusion time is done. Time to go home and make some more hits. Still stayin' sober over here.

"Okay Being By Myself"

Insomnia kept me awake again last night. I didn't make it to school on time and was late enough that there didn't seem to be much point in going to my first class. So I've sat myself down on a slab of concrete underneath the many giant oak trees here on campus.

It's a nice day out here, blue skies and warm sun, but my legs are still hurting from when I pushed myself too hard running this weekend. I guess I'm feeling alright, overall, but I really would rather be at home. Ah well, at least I'm here. Better to be late and miss one class than to not go and miss three. Suddenly I'm remembering being in college the first time, all the times I had insomnia back then, all the classes I missed. More than one professor got the impression that I thought I was hot shit and didn't need to go to class. If only it were that simple.

I really hate the insomnia. I've had it for as long as I remember. No amount of psychotherapy was ever able to find a cause. Without a job & health insurance, medical assistance is out of the question. Besides, the only drug that ever really helped me get to sleep was weed, so there's that. Exercise helps some, eating better helps some, but even so. Anyway, I don't want this blog to be an insomnia rant. I actually have relationships on the mind today.

My sponsor and I talk about this issue a lot. It's one I have had major struggles with. Lately, I've been doing something different. I haven't fully sworn off dating, but I'm not putting myself out there. I'm not doing anything to try to meet women, not going out, not actively seeking. I've even given my online dating profiles a rest. I've been saying that I'm unofficially not dating, taking time to just be okay by myself. It's been about two months now.

Honestly, there is some bitterness there. It's not at the 'fuck it' level, but there's frustration. I don't know how much of it is about me, or the way I was trying to meet women, but I just wasn't meeting the kind of woman that I wanted. My last therapist told me to think about what I want, and that is important. Even more important has been letting go of what I don't want. 'Cause the truth is that I still meet women, just going about my life. Sometimes there's a connection there, but I haven't met anyone that I really wanted to pursue something with, so I haven't pursued anything. And hey, that's a good thing. My sponsor was pointing out to me over the weekend what progress that is. I'm not jumping into a relationship or jumping into bed with someone, then realizing afterwards I wasn't really interested in after all.

I know a lot of single people out there are bitter. Some people don't have any trouble meeting someone they can get along well with. Others of us have a harder time of it, but I think that the letting go is a big step towards finding a relationship that's healthy and satisfying; to get to the good, you have to let go of the bad. I mentioned that to a good friend of mine and she was seriously impressed. I kind of laughed a little when she said that, though, because it isn't some grand self-improvement thing for me. It's much more of an 'ack; no more; enough; my give up'.

A few years back, I made something of a promise to myself--that not being in a relationship is better than being in a bad one. For the most part, I'm pretty content being by myself these days. My sponsor is real quick to point out how different that is for me. Personally, I think he's astounded that I'm doing this well. That makes me smile. But it's the truth--I'm doing alright, feeling okay just being by myself. And I really don't want any more insanity in my life. My own is more than enough for me to handle. So I'm gonna do this for awhile, not worry about the relationship issue, not stress over it, and just be okay with me.

A number of friends have told me 'good for you', and that when you stop looking is when you find that special someone. Maybe that's true. We'll just have to see. In the meantime, I've got a class to go to. It's my Social Psych class. We're studying attraction.

"Why I Write"

It's been a progress not perfection weekend over here and that's a very good thing.

On Saturday, an old friend of mine was in town playing a gig and I went out to see him. I was feeling a little un-centered heading out there. The last time I'd seen him play was at that same spot, but I'd gone to see him there with my ex-girlfriend. When I got to the gig, the cover was really high. I paid it, though, and went in. Inside, I saw my friend, gave him a CD that I'd been needing to get to him, and began to reckon with a feeling that had been brewing inside: I really didn't want to be there at all. So I bailed. If I'd been more on the ball, maybe I would have been able to stop when I found out how bad the cover was, and just gone inside to give him the CD. Or maybe if I was more spiritually advanced, I would have been able to let go enough to say to myself, "welp, that sure was a lot of money, but I paid it and I'm here so I might as well enjoy the show." Neither of those happened, but oh well. My main goal that night was to get the CD to him, and I did that, so I'm going to laugh at myself a little, cry a little, and move on.

Yesterday, I drove down to San Francisco to see another old friend. She just got accepted into graduate school and threw a party to celebrate. I got there early and gave her a hand getting ready. At the party, I ate some good BBQ, met and talked with the other guests. I was there for several hours. Not bad for someone who used to not go to parties and, when I did, could only interact with other people if I was stoned out of my mind. After I left, I went across the SF bay to Oakland and spent a little time with my sponsor.

I did some music work this weekend, too. I'm getting frustrated with one of the projects I'm working on. It's a hip-hop album and I was listening back to the beats I've come up with so far. Some of them are really good, some are terrible. They sound to me like some white guy who don't know nothin about hip-hop trying to write beats. Which, strangely enough, isn't far from the truth. I've listened to hip-hop over the years, I played in a hop-hop band, but I've never been into it the way some of my friends have. I was seriously tripping at one point, but instead of just saying, "fuck it", I went back and started reworking what I'd written. I listened to a lot of tracks from the genre, got the feel & the groove into my creative flow, and overhauled what I'd already done. I still have a lot of work to do, but the tracks are sounding better.

It feels silly sometimes to write about this stuff (especially the music), but this blog isn't my bullshit space; it's where I let out the truth about what's really going on inside. I think men especially are discouraged from admitting their true feelings--especially fears, so writing here is good practice for me. Holding stuff inside isn't good for me. It gets me into all kinds of trouble, breeds resentment. Writing helps me to get stuff off my chest, helps me to check in with myself, and to work out what's going on.

The thing with my friend's gig is about insecurity and self-pity--I feel sorry for myself that I can't command a high price at gigs, that I'm not very good at self-promotion, that for all my talent my music hasn't taken me anywhere. Going to my friend's house yesterday is about overcoming fears, and the fact that I did go and I continue to get better at being around people I don’t know is progress I need to be aware of and congratulate myself on. The fears about working on the hip-hop album are more of the pity and insecurity, but I can give myself a break there, too, and recognize that I’m not giving up, I’m doing the work and overcoming my fears. They used to keep me paralyzed.

And writing here in this blog, letting others know what I go through, is a way to pass on the message. We all have fears, we all have issues we need to work on. I suppose there are people out there who read all this and laugh. To those who are feeling smug and superior, I congratulate you on your judgmental selves. How nice it must be for you to be perfect and have all the mysteries of life worked out. The rest of us mere mortals are over here, doing what we can, taking baby steps, to try and do better. It's for folks like me that I write--people who are in touch with their fears and their failings, who are trying to do better. I want you all to know, because it's what I need reminding of more than anything else:

You are not alone.