Wednesday, June 29, 2011

“Feels Good To Be Working”

I’m on my lunch break now from my first full day back to work. I have an hour to eat, relax, and what do I do with it? Blog. Why? Because I have this giddy feeling bubbling up inside me, almost like a secret. It’s almost like I want to pull a random stranger aside and whisper, “Psst! Hey! I love my new job!”

I got here half an hour early this morning, met my supervisor, my coworkers. Things were a little slow at first. I had to get my computer access up and running, which required a trip to the IT department. There was a lot of reading about the department I’m in, the way funding sources are set up, how the coordination happens between local and regional offices. There were some details I probably didn’t need to know, but that’s alright.

In due course, they got to the nitty gritty of training me on the specific tasks I’ll be doing. I couldn’t help myself from smiling. It’s not exactly simple stuff. There’s lots of analysis, lots and lots of little details. I won’t be bored, and that’s a huge relief. I won’t be doing this work on autopilot, either; I’ll actually be using my brain, which is an outright joy.

One of the biggest frustrations at my last job was how tedious it was. It didn’t require much thinking at all. Monotonous--that’s probably a better word for it. Or maybe ‘mind-numbingly dull’. I read a personality profile on myself once that said, “avoid repetitive clerical tasks at all costs!” You know, like they’re the plague or something :-) One of my fears about this new job was that I’d be stuck doing just that. Again. And that the sneaking suspicion I had inside that I was capable of so much more would remain just that--an unconfirmed suspicion. It feels good to be doing more in-depth work, to be pushing myself, and confirming that idea. My employer is showing a lot of faith in me to start me at this level of pay, and I feel good about being able to rise to the occasion.

Probably in time I won’t feel so excited about the job, and that’s to be expected I think. The newness will wear off and I’ll adjust. The new What Is will be that I’m working, just like most people. And I think that’s part of why I’m feeling so giddy right now. After being out of work for so long, I still don’t quite believe that I’m back at it. Maybe it won’t even really set in until I get that first paycheck.

Something I’ve rarely written about through my long period of being unemployed was feeling worthless for not having a job. It’s not like the thought wasn’t there, I just kept it at bay. Truthfully, it was always there. It showed up most often when I would think about dating, for some strange reason. Ah, I’m rambling.

It’s only the first day, of course, and it may turn out that all the new information and training that I think I understand, I’m in fact actually clueless about. But for right now, I feel really good. It feels good to be working again. The people in the office feel like decent, nice folks. And it feels great to be using my gray matter upstairs. So I raise my coffee cup in gratitude for a good start.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

“Going Back To Work”

Okay, here’s some truth for you. This is how fucked up my disease is.

After being out of work for more than a year, I’ve finally gotten a job. It’s actually a better job than the one I was laid off from. A better organization, better benefits, and a dollar more an hour than I was making before. How do I feel about it? Terrified. But that’s not the disease, that’s actually just me.

The disease, this fucked up part of me inside my head, is the little two-year old. Good ol’ lil’ Joshua who when he heard the news that I’d be going back to work, threw a tantrum like you’ve never seen. “I. Don’t. Wanna!” And he stamped his foot and started pouting. No tears yet, but oh is he ever pissed.

That’s the diseased part of my brain, the part that tells me I’m special, I’m not like everyone else. It tells me I’m too good to have work, that the kind of work I’ll be doing is beneath me and stuff I’m not really that good at anyway. It tells me I’m more special-er than anyone else who ever lived, that the rules don’t apply to me. “I’m an artist,” pronounces little Joshua as he grabs his crayons and graffiti’s the walls. “I’m special. Everyone else should just support me because I’m the most wonderful person that ever lived. Don’t they know that? Don’t they know who I am?!”

I hear this; I feel the adrenaline that courses through my veins from that false sense of superiority, feel the top-heavy weight of my inflated ego. But the way through is not to backhand lil’ Joshua. The little snot isn’t suffering from a need in attitude adjustment. He’s just scared.

He’s scared that he won’t be good enough, that he’ll fail. He’s scared that he’ll be stuck like he was before, doing work that he hated for people who didn’t see him as a person and couldn’t really care less about him. That’s the thing about our inner child--they never really get over not receiving the love and support that they needed when they needed it. But talking down to that part of ourselves, cursing ourselves for feeling those feelings, that is not the way. That just plays into our insecurities. It repeats the patterns we’ve come to think are the way things are supposed to be. The cycle continues.

I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m worthless. I’m quite well accomplished at calling myself a lowly sack of shit. I don’t need anyone else to drag me down; I can drag myself down better than anybody else ever could.

When I hear the disease, what is for the moment given voice by the fears of my inner child, I can recognize it for what it is. I don’t have to act on it, and I don’t have to listen to it. I can stop, take stock of what’s really going on. The disease cowers in the face of What Is.

I’ve been doing this Recovery thing long enough now to know a few things, too, about how my disease reacts specifically. It doesn’t like it when I do good things for myself. Whenever I have a significant success, an accomplishment that someone else might normally be proud of themselves for, my disease tries to tear me down instead. This is how fucked up my disease is: the greater my success, the harder it works to make me feel like shit. Thank God that I’ve got some experience living the program, and in dealing with myself, that I don’t have to listen to it, that I can work to overcome it. It’s not easy but it is possible.

The disease never stops lying to me. The truth is that I’m lucky to have found a job, and a good one at that. I’m lucky to have some Recovery so that I don’t sabotage myself anymore. The war can still rage on inside my head, but it stays there now. Maybe even one day lil’ Joshua will throw his tantrums and I’ll just call out to him from the other room, “yes, dear, I see you. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Monday, June 27, 2011

“Sharing Our True Selves”

Sometimes at meetings, I’ll share knowing exactly what I want to say. I might have something big going on in my life at the moment that I need to talk about, or some good piece of advice about the topic that I want to pass on to newcomers, just as it was passed on to me when I was new. Sometimes I feel the quiet voice of my higher power telling me to keep my mouth shut and not say anything at all--let others share, listen.

Every once in a while, I’ll open my mouth to speak and not have the faintest idea what I’m going to say. It’s like that when I chair a meeting, too, but at those times it’s deliberate. I’ve found that there’s more authenticity to my words when I don’t plan them. A quick prayer, then let out what it was like, what happened, and what it’s like now.

A lot of times when I’m a speaker, and sometimes when I share, I get done speaking and don’t have a real conscious recollection of what I’ve said. Or I do remember and it feels stupid. It’s ironic, because I’ve found that it is at those times when people are most likely to come up to me afterward and tell me how much they appreciated what I had to say.

I’ve heard other people comment about having the same experience, feeling like what they shared was dumb or just flat-out not remembering what exactly it was that they said. There are those of us who feel that what is going on during these times is that we’re channeling.

No, I’m not talking about the spirit of Bill W. coming back from the great beyond, I mean our higher power is speaking through us. We’re tuned in, in the zone, aligned with the force greater than ourselves, and that energy flows through us and shapes our thoughts and our words. We’re plugged in to the power of Recovery, and it transforms us into beacons of healing.

I don’t always keep the newcomers in mind when I share. After all, it’s my five minutes and sometimes I gotta say what I gotta say. But when I am thinking of the newcomers, I try to pass on advice that was given to me that’s been helpful. It’s like I say to my sponsees: all this stuff that I’m telling you, it’s not bullshit that I’ve just made up on the spot; it’s the advice that’s been handed down to me by others who follow it because it works.

When I’m chairing a meeting, what I pray before I speak is that my words help someone. If something I’ve said is helpful to even just one person, then I’ve done a service. I can’t save anyone else, just like I can’t keep anyone else sober or make them go back out. All I can do is share my experience and hope that somebody else hears something useful.

There are differences in our stories, but many more similarities. The truth is that we are all far more alike than we are different. That’s why we can hear ourselves in others’ stories. We see ourselves in the way they think, the words they say, and the actions they take. There is nothing about us and our lives that is so unique that someone else hasn’t been in a similar situation (if not the exact same situation). Listening to others who have more experience living the program, hearing how they’ve handled the problems of living life on life’s terms, that’s how we learn.

I’ve been a speaker and had people come up to me after the meeting and thank me for telling their story. There’s no feeling quite like that, to share the story of my life--which includes a whole lot of feeling like I’m the only one on Earth like me--and have someone thank me for helping them to not feel alone anymore because there were so many similarities.

We don’t have to shape our stories to benefit anyone else. We don’t have to say the right thing, or try to make sure what we say is relevant to other people. All we have to do is speak the truth about ourselves, who we are and who’ve we been, what we really think and feel, and it will resonate. It’s the sharing of our true selves, and the finding of others who are as we are. That is the amazing journey of Recovery--learning that we aren’t alone.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

“Deeper Understanding”

I’m a Kate Bush fan. One of my favorite songs of hers is called ‘Deeper Understanding’. It’s loosely about addiction--computer addiction, actually. The chorus is my favorite part: “Hello; I know that you’ve been feeling tired; I bring you love and deeper understanding. Hello; I know that you’re unhappy; I bring you love and deeper understanding.”

Many times, I’ve closed my eyes and imagined someone singing those words to me. The same goes for that Sade song, ‘By Your Side’. Come to think of it, there are a whole host of songs like that, songs that capture the feeling of what I want from a woman. Maybe I should make up a playlist, drive to the ocean, roll the windows down, crank the stereo up loud, and play it as an appeal to the cosmic forces. Certainly, my perfect woman will emerge from the waves, walk right over, and profess her undying devotion to me. Yes, I am being facetious.

There was a news/opinion story today about couples with wide age differences. There was some analysis in there, looking specifically at older men & younger women. The women (re: girls) tend to have histories of abuse, absent father issues, etc. The men tend to think they’re hot shit, different from other men, special, etc. In both cases, a lot of it boils down to people being unable or unwilling to open themselves up, be emotionally available.

As a man who has been on both lopsided sides of that equation--I’ve dated women a lot younger than me AND been the much-younger part of a couple--I’d have to say I agree with that assessment. When I was with an older woman, it was because I wanted to remain childish, be taken care of. When I was with a younger woman, it was because I thought I was ‘special’ and ‘deserving’ and other egotistical bullshit like that.

I remember a friend of mine telling me, “Zach, let someone into your life who is your equal.” In other words, stop hiding, stop being afraid, let yourself open up to another person who you might actually make a real connection with.

Ironically enough, Melody Beattie’s book ‘The Language Of Letting Go’ had a passage on this subject for today’s date--how important it is to not do relationships out of fear, to leave that stuff behind, allow ourselves to be vulnerable and share our hearts with another human being. It was very timely advice.

It’s at least a little ironic that someone such as myself, who is always desiring that deeper connection, the deeper understanding, has so much difficulty making myself open. Or maybe it’s not a mystery at all; maybe it makes perfect sense that because I have such a hard time opening myself up, I haven’t experienced very much of that kind of a connection.

Relationships are disasters for a lot of us with the disease. Sometimes it’s the result of being abused as children. Sometimes it’s because of being sexually assaulted. Sometimes we just happened to be raised in families where intimacy--true, loving intimacy--didn’t happen. And it’s not like our culture gives us a hand at this, either. We’re bombarded with shallow, superficial messages from movies and television that teach us ‘true love’ that is in actuality codependence. Or stalking.

There is some good, old wisdom out there, though, for relationships. When you stop looking for love, that’s when you find it. You have to be okay by yourself first before you’re able to be a partner in a healthy relationship. You need to love yourself before you can love someone else.

I’ve had enough unhealthy relationships to know that being by myself is much better than being in a bad relationship. And these days, with some Recovery and serenity under my belt, I truly would rather be by myself than go crazy trying to do relationships the way I used to. That shit was straight-up insanity. But that doesn’t mean I particularly enjoy being alone. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to have someone to share my life with. It doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely sleeping by myself.

But hey, if everything was perfect, what would I have to complain about?

My sponsor got me going on a good mantra a long time ago: maybe the perfect woman is out there, maybe she isn’t. I can accept how I feel, know that it’s okay to feel it, and then let go. For me, it’s a trust the higher power thing. The point is to be okay with just me, by myself, because if I can do that, if I can be at peace with just me, then ultimately it doesn’t matter so much if I have a woman in my life or not.

Friday, June 24, 2011

“Practicing Perseverance”

Go to meetings, stay sober, work the step or die, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, thanks for reading.

Naw, I’m just kidding :)

It’s a warm Friday afternoon and I’m in the shade of the patio outside my favorite coffee shop. They’ve got a new drink here I just had to try. It’s sort of like a root beer float--a can of A&W, a dash of half-and-half, and two shots of espresso. It’s supposed to come with whipped cream too, but I told the guy to hold off on that. It’s pretty good.

Grabbing my drink, I noticed there are a lot of good-looking women here today. I thought briefly about planting myself on the couch to observe the field, but what would my blog turn out like? I can see it now... “Working the steps is crucial to brunette in a really tight tube top.” “Going to meetings is the best way to pretty blond in a short skirt.” Yeah. Exactly.

Yes, I am in a good mood. And not because of the women, or even the tasty root beer concoction. No, today just feels like a good day. Yesterday I did a lot of exercise. I pushed myself on the weights. My shoulder muscles haven’t been keeping up with everything else so I worked those extra hard. Then last night it cooled off really nicely and I couldn’t resist going for a jog. I did a two and a half mile route, ran my usual 1.1 miles of it, but I pushed the speed up. This morning I stepped on the scales and was pleased with the reading (no, I’m not going to share what it said). I’m trying real hard to not stress too much over the weight loss not happening as fast as I’d like, trying to remember the point is to be healthy, be exercising. But on the days where the scale is down, I feel really good. And of course, on the days when it’s up, I get furious with myself. No surprise there.

The weight is coming down, regardless of how fast. That’s a good thing and something I am proud of, but the more important point is that I’m exercising every day. I was trying to remember the last time I missed a day and it’s been awhile. The weight is coming off gradually, and I know that’s because I’m keeping at it and persevering.

Ah, you knew a spiritual principle was going to show up, didn’t you?

I was talking with one of my sponsees earlier today. He’s going through a rough patch where the disease is just kicking his ass from all sorts of angles right now. We talked a lot about how this is one of those times where the tenth step comes into play full force. Life is hard. Recovery is hard. That’s what is. For those of us who’ve managed to put together some time, apathy is our worst enemy. We have to keep on working the program, keep on climbing that hill. We have to Persevere. Those of us with the disease have something of a catch-22 when it comes to life. Life is hard, so we became addicts; because we’re addicts, life is even harder. But it doesn’t get easier, not exactly. I shared with him one of my favorite metaphors for working the program and dealing with life:

Say you pick up a new instrument, like the violin. At the start, you need someone to show you how to do everything--where to put your fingers, how to hold the bow, etc. All you can play is some ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ bullshit and even that sounds terrible. But with time, with patience, and with practice, you move on to harder and harder pieces. Eventually you’re able to play world-famous concertos. The pieces didn’t get any easier, you’ve just gotten better at playing. As you become more and more practiced, you’re able to play more difficult pieces.

The metaphor works with lifting weights, too. At first, you can’t lift very heavy weights and you can’t do it for very long. As you keep at, keep practicing, as you persevere, you’re able to handle longer workouts and lift heavier and heavier weights. In time, you get a nicely toned body.

With Recovery, it’s life that we’re practicing; it’s our spiritual selves that we’re toning up. As we keep on keepin’ on, we get better at handling life itself. And just like working out or lifting weights, if we miss a day, we can feel our regression. We have to keep going, keep moving forward. We have to work the program on a daily basis, one day at a time. We don’t always see the effects, just as how going to the gym once doesn’t get us bodybuilder bodies. But if we persevere, we will see the results. They aren’t reflected in the mirror, but in the shape of our lives and the people in them. We are transformed and the change is undeniable.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

“Lucky Is A Frame Of Mind

I’m feeling a little pensive this evening. It was a good day. I worked out, got my laundry done, reworked & mixed a song for my own music project, visited with my mom, even gave my jade plant some love (I have a solid bonsai thing going, there). The evening has cooled off and there’s a nice, perhaps even blustery, wind blowing as I enjoy an iced decaf and turn my fingers to write another ‘TOTD’.

It’s not all wine and roses. My grandmother is in ICU recuperating from another bad fall. My uncle’s girlfriend may have ovarian cancer. One of my good friends is struggling with a budding cross-addiction. There is good news, though. My mom’s test came out negative for kidney cancer (it’s just an inert cyst). All of them will be in my prayers.

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs the luck charm I created recently, the newest addition to the altar in my bedroom. It’s not a luck charm, per se. The thing about luck is that people who believe they’re lucky tend to be. The opposite is true, too. So, the charm is more of a reminder to me that I am lucky, not so much trying to bring more luck into my life or make me luckier, just to help me remember that if I believe I am lucky, then I will be. Like a great master once said, “you don’t make miracles happen, you just see them done and they are.”

No sign yet of increased luckiness in my life, but I have been thinking about the subject. I don’t think of myself as lucky very often; it’s one of the reasons I made the charm, to help me tap into that force. I can see myself as fortunate, or maybe lucky in the sense that things could be so much worse. Like, lucky in that much worse things could have happened to me in life, not lucky in the sense that lots of good things have happened to me.

It’s true that I could have been through much worse in my life. I’ve never been homeless, I wasn’t abused as a child--not really. I’ve never really been poor. Broke maybe, without funds, but not poor. I’ve been blessed with a family that loves me and has always been able to help me out financially when I needed it.

I’ve had some challenges, sure. Lack of social skills, severely low self-confidence, and of course this devil’s disease always warping my perspective, trying to drag me back down. The worst hell I’ve had to endure in my life has been the prison of my own diseased brain. And it was hell, dear readers, so sayeth your humble author as he recalls his suicide attempts.

I’m lucky to have found the program, and damned lucky that it’s worked for me. Or maybe it’s that I’m lucky to have had the willingness to work it. I’m lucky that I didn’t permanently damage my body or my brain in the course of active addiction (though only time will tell about any smoking-related illnesses).

I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky so far. So many others haven’t been. What is it that lifts up one individual while another gets pushed down? Why are some of us subjected to torturous lives while others have had it so easy with so little effort? Maybe there is no why. Maybe it’s just the infinite diversity of the Infinite All’s chaotic creation.

I can look around and find someone who’s been more lucky than I have, and I can find someone who has had it worse. It’s not up to me to pass judgment on any of that, just to be grateful for the fortune I have had in my own life.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

“Rigorous Honesty”

We talk about this life of Recovery as being one of ‘rigorous honesty’. Honesty is the first spiritual principle we begin practicing when we start working the program. It begins with the honest admission that we have the disease and that we need help. From there, it spreads gradually to every aspect of our lives.

There’s a lot more to being honest than just not telling lies anymore. There are lies of omission, the things we don’t say, secrets we don’t share. Those can be as devastating as any outright lie. We don’t say we’re only as sick as our secrets for nothing. (A quick owning of my own stuff, here: I tend to be a little harsher on this point because I’ve been burned in the past by those lies of omission.)

Probably the most difficult part of the Honesty stuff is learning to be honest with ourselves. We are so good at self-deception, at rationalizing. We can find a reasonable explanation for any behavior. We’re addicts; denial is second-nature to us. The good news is that we can learn a different way. We can learn to be honest with ourselves about our wants, our needs, our true desires and motivations. It takes time and it takes practice, but that is the work of Recovery.

I was seeing a therapist for a while who talked a lot about emotional honesty. That’s an important one, too. We can be technically not lying, or not keeping secrets, but we still aren’t being fully (or rigorously) honest. Maybe we know something that we think shouldn’t be shared because it isn’t anyone else’s business. But we still feel that sinking feeling in our stomach. That intuition there is our spiritual selves letting us know something’s still not right. I read a great quote once about the need to listen to our conscience--it’s the measure of our selfishness.

Being honest is a part of being someone of integrity. People learn that they can trust us because we aren’t hiding anything. We give them the full truth, our honest perspective on things. We present an honest version of ourselves. We are who we say we are, nothing hidden, no hammer coming down or wild outburst waiting around the corner. This is the type of person we strive to be.

One of my favorite sayings is that no one trusts an honest man. I love that because it’s so true. Is honesty really so rare in our culture today? You’re damn right it is. Hidden agendas, hidden motives, secret plots, plans and pre-conceived notions. Everyone is so used to being lied to that when they’re confronted with someone who is honest, they don’t always know how to handle it. Personally, I think that shit’s hilarious.

What about the ‘little white lies’? I know a lot of people out there believe that ‘little white lies’ are okay, maybe even good, that they’re the glue that holds society together. I happen to disagree. There’s always a way to speak the truth in love, it’s just harder. Then again, if this Recovery way of life were easy, everyone would do it.

I prefer to challenge myself, to work on being honest with myself, and to strive to be emotionally honest with others. Sometimes that means I say things people don’t want to hear. Sometimes it means I have to say things I don’t really want to say, but that’s okay. For me, the point is to walk the spiritual path, try to be a person of integrity, that way I can know I’ve kept my side of the street clean. How others deal with that, how they deal with me and how I live my life now? That’s their opinion, and someone else’s opinion of me ain’t none of my business.

Monday, June 20, 2011

“Loneliness”

One of my good friends in Recovery, someone I was actually ‘out there’ with who got clean a few months before I did, often shares about loneliness. It’s not a subject I share a lot about. In fact it’s pretty rare for me to talk about it. The reason why isn’t that I never feel the feeling, in fact it’s a feeling I have far more experience with it than I wish I did.

Remembering what it was like, I can go back to just about any relationship I’ve ever been in and recall a moment (or many) where I was lying in bed with my partner and felt lonely. Not just lonely, but desperately lonely. I remember thinking to myself many, many times about how fucked up it was to be lying next to a woman--oftentimes one I loved--and yet still feel isolated and alone.

Even after getting into Recovery, I still felt the pain of that feeling way more often than I care to admit. It’s been one of the more difficult feelings to learn how to deal with, and definitely one that’s taken longer to address and work on. I’ve had a lot of ‘my part’ to sort through when it comes to loneliness, not the least of which has been all the relationships I’ve gotten myself into out of fear that I’d always be alone.

I can feel lonely as fuck, even laying right next to someone. Something I’ve discovered in Recovery, though, is that I can also be by myself, not in a relationship, not even seeing someone, and not feel lonely at all.

This is the part where I’m supposed to launch into a big ol’ diatribe about the emptiness inside all us addicts, how it’s just another part of the God-shaped hole that we can only fill with the love of our higher power and a genuine love of ourselves. And that’s all true, but not quite the point I’m wanting to make. Not that it isn’t a huge, valid, really really important point. But having made it, I’m going to go over here.

Loneliness sucks, there’s no doubt about it. Not knowing how to handle this feeling can get us into all kinds of bad situations. Getting loaded so that we don’t have to feel it is one. Going to a bar and getting drunk enough we don’t care who we go home with is another. Staying with an abusive partner. Allowing ourselves to be used by “friends”. Keeping unhealthy people in our lives just so we don’t have to be stuck alone with ourselves. These are all unhealthy ways, and none of them truly address the emptiness inside.

I’ve made some really poor decisions in the past because of my loneliness. Some of that shit, only my sponsor knows about. It’s better now, but it’s still one of the ways my disease can fuck me over. I have to remember certain things: that I am loved by others; that my higher power loves me more deeply and richly than I could ever possibly imagine or understand; and that trying to fill the emptiness inside with anything else--using, relationships, or one-night-stands--doesn’t work.

Something else I’ve found helpful for dealing with this feeling is acceptance. When I feel lonely, I accept it. It sounds kind of like this: “Hmm. I feel lonely. This shit really sucks. I really wish I didn’t feel this way, but I do. How ‘bout that?”

Loneliness is something we all deal with. Even that persistent feeling that we don’t belong or will never fit in, or even that we’re not like ‘normal’ people, that’s still loneliness, and it’s just a feeling. It may be one we don’t enjoy, but it won’t kill us. And it will pass.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

“Finding The Humor”

I’m having a coffee at my favorite spot before heading over to my sponsor’s place for some step work. I finished up the writing for my latest round of 10, 11, and 12, and we’ve finally found some time in our busy schedules to go over it together.

It’s kind of interesting here at the coffee place. I walked in and somebody’s dog had just barfed all over the middle of the floor. Dude was just sitting in his chair, so either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Or maybe he figured someone else would clean it up? Anyway, I walked up to the counter and the managing owner was here looking pretty damn pissed off. I don’t blame him. One of gals that works here took a mop out to the floor to clean up the barf and I heard the dog’s owner say he didn’t realize and that he’d clean it up himself. Which he did do. But I saw him sitting in his chair chillin’ when I came in. How could he not notice his dog heaving up all over the floor, five feet away? Ah well. It’s all cleaned up now and the dog’s owner left after doing so. All stuff that’s not my problem.

The JFT talked about finding the humor in life today. Not that life is always funny, in fact all too often it is definitely not. But I agree that it’s important to be able to find the humor in a situation. It’s like that old saying--you gotta either laugh or cry. Me and my fellow addicts talk often about our sick and twisted senses of humor.

My sense of humor is a lot better than it used to be. It used to be that I was so sensitive to any little thing. The idea of just relaxing and having a good a laugh was pretty foreign. And I never laughed at myself. Hell no, I never laughed at myself. I took myself way too seriously. I still can at times, but for the most part I’m able to relax, let go, and see the humorous side of things.

The JFT was right, too, about how keeping our sense of humor can get us through situations that would otherwise be unbearable. It’s so easy to jump to that place in our minds where everything is a crisis, the end of the world, and next thing you know we’re despairing. There’s no need to despair. There’s always help and there’s always Hope.

It’s strange, too, because it’s actually easier than being serious all the time. Or maybe I should say that it takes less energy. I like being able to laugh at myself. I’m not always able to do it, but when I can it’s because I’ve remembered something: that I’m human. Having a sense of humor through life’s difficult times can be a godsend. It doesn’t mean I’m not taking a situation seriously.

As for the dog barf, I’m not really sure what the humor is in that. Maybe it’s one of those things that’s funny when you’re not there ;-)

Saturday, June 18, 2011

“It Works”

I’m a little tired this evening, but it’s the good kind of tired. Earlier this week, I strained my calves a bit and had taken a day off from the running. I hate to miss a day of exercise, though, so I did my weights for three days straight. Today, it finally cooled down a bit. I stepped out to get the mail this afternoon and felt a nice breeze. My first thought was, “ah! Great weather to get back out and run.” I did my mile and felt fantastic afterward. Those folks who are always saying exercise feels good? They’re right.

I spent some time in the studio as well today. I’m working on a rock track that will go out as part of promotion for a book. It’s long-distance collaboration, and those are always fun. My friend wrote the song and recorded all the vocals and guitar tracks. Then I downloaded what he had done and brought it into my system where I added drums, bass, piano, and did the mix. I’m really pleased with how it came out--especially the drums. They sound like real drums to me, not something I programmed in the computer. After sending the mix off, the guy I’m doing the work for had some great compliments for how well it turned out. That was awesome to hear. After all, I’m just one guy working out of his apartment, but with practice and patience, I’m able to turn out work that sounds as professional as anything done in a pro studio.

For my bellybutton birthday a couple weeks back, my sister and brother-in-law gave me some free movie passes. Later tonight, I’m going to check out one of the latest effects-laded comic book hero movies. I don’t expect the story to be deep, I don’t imagine the characters to be toe deep either, and the dialogue will probably be terrible. But I don’t care. I just want to go to the theatre and enjoy the spectacle of the big screen. You know, just have a good time.

I spend a lot of time swimming in the deep end; I could use more time wading in the shallow end of the pool.

It’s an amazing thing to be able to relax. To not just take the time, but make the time for myself and enjoy it. When I look back at today, I realize that it’s been a day of being good to myself. I don’t always remember to do that, but I’m getting better at it. It’s happening more often. Bit by bit, I’m becoming more and more comfortable in my own skin.

I love that metaphor, by the way, of our skin ‘not fitting’. No matter how you say it--wanting to crawl out of your skin, our skin not fitting, feeling comfortable in our own bodies, etc. I used to need to be loaded on something just to be okay with . . . me. The truth, of course, is that even when I was loaded I wasn’t really okay with myself; I was simply too fucked up to care or worry about it. It’s a pretty incredible feeling to be at peace with myself now and to have that be a genuine feeling, something real that isn’t dependent on substances. I must admit: sometimes I wonder how many ‘normies’ are at peace with themselves. Probably not that many.

Somehow I doubt I’ll ever be grateful for having the disease, but I have immense gratitude for where I am these days. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t an addict. But I really wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t worked the program. And if I want to stay here, I have to keep on working it.

It’s like I said at that newcomers meeting a few days back: I wouldn’t keep doing this if it didn’t work.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

“Acceptance”

One of my fellows at my homegroup talks often about how the ‘wisdom to know the difference’ is the mot important part of the serenity prayer. Accepting things we can’t change? Definitely not easy. Having courage to change what we can? It’s certainly possible. Recognizing the difference, knowing which is which? That’s the real trick, now, isn’t it?

If we can tell the difference, then we can recognize the things we can’t change. After that comes the hard part--accepting them. Acceptance is a difficult thing in general. For those of us who suffer from the disease, it’s a whole other monster all unto itself. We are control freaks, sometimes (often?) like angry children, constantly trying to force the world around us to be the way we think it should. But nowhere is it written that the universe is ours for the shaping.

I’ve written it before, and it bears repeating: it’s when we try to control the uncontrollable, that is what leads to unmanageability in our lives. Learning acceptance, being able to get out of denial and see things for how they really are and not as we would have them be, and then letting go of them, that is the work of Recovery. Sometimes the work is in the letting go; sometimes it’s in the breaking out of denial.

This is all first step stuff. What’s the spiritual principle behind the first step? Honesty. What does the first step deal with? Powerlessness. Unmanageability. Admitting we have the disease (whether we call ourselves an alcoholic or an addict or something else) is a practicing of this first step. We reaffirm the honest truth about ourselves: that we have the disease; we’re powerless over it; our lives have become unmanageable because of it. Every time we introduce ourselves to share at a meeting and identify ourselves as someone who suffers, we are practicing this principle.

Translating that principle into the rest of our lives, practicing it in all our affairs, isn’t easy. We do have some tools to help us. What else are we powerless over? Other people, places, and things. We can’t control them. What can we control? Ourselves. We can control our words, our action. We can’t control life, we have to learn to accept it on its own terms. We can control how we respond to it. And there is a hell of a lot of freedom given to us by our higher power in how we are allowed to respond to life. We can act. We can react. We can choose to do nothing. The key, that all-important first step, is to get out of denial and accept what is.

It takes courage to change the things we can. I think it takes courage, too, to accept what is. Sometimes we have to face some harsh truths that we’d rather not face because it would mean leaving our comfort zones, facing something new, different. Even if our circumstances are horrible, we tend to stay in them because they are familiar. Sometimes, the only way out is to reach a point where we are so miserable that we’re forced to admit to ourselves that we just can’t go on with things as they are. Our pain overcomes our fear of the unknown. We become willing to change. Some would say it like this: we surrender to the need to change.
Whatever words are used, be it Honesty, acceptance, surrender, they are all part of the beginning. They are the words used to describe the change that has taken place within us. We have made an internal shift and are now willing to move forward. You could even say that we’ve become unwilling to remain stuck.

There’s an old saying: “somethin’s gotta give”. Sometimes, that something is us.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

“Still Workin’ It On The Off-Days”

Okay, now it’s hot.

Ever since I got back to Sacramento from Lake Tahoe, it’s been up in the 90s here. The forecast says the heat will continue for at least the next week. The solstice is next Tuesday. Summer is finally here. I find myself saying, “oh yeah, that’s right--summer is hot.” As if I somehow forgot.

I made the mistake yesterday afternoon of trying to run in the heat and only made it about half a mile before pulling back to a walk because I could barely breathe. I walked it for about a quarter mile, then started in again, but just couldn't go. I was feeling a little defeated about it. I've gotten into a good routine with my exercise and hated to miss or fall short on even one day. So I went back last night after it had cooled off and did a full mile on top of everything.

After I got home and showered, I couldn’t resist rewarding myself with a burger & shake. Too much carbs, milk, sugar, etc., and now today I feel shitty from the poor eating. Since I’ve been eating better and taking better care of myself, I notice much more intensely how my body feels when I fall off that particular wagon. Ah well, progress not perfection right?

There’s a number of things running through my mind right now. Probably part of that comes from not being up to snuff in the body. But it’s making it difficult for me to get words out in the blog today. No one thing on the brain seems like something I want to write about, or it could be that it’s all stuff that would be good to write about but I’m just not able to put any of it into words for some reason. Ah, let’s just call it a slightly off day. And hey, if the worst of my problems is that I’m at 75% in the brain instead of 100, well that’s what we call a quality problem. Guess I can still be hard on myself :) Gotta knock that shit off at some point.

I went to a newcomers meeting last night. It was pretty small, but I think it was a good meeting. I shared about how the disease isn’t about our substance abuse. If it were, then all our problems would just go away once we quit using and drinking. We read from the literature and there was a paragraph in there that really brought that point home.

Sobriety isn’t Recovery; the two are worlds apart. The disease is about our out-of-whack thinking, the way we deal with life, with other people, with ourselves. Recovery, the twelve steps, teaches us a different way of living life. Being sober is what gives us the chance to learn it. So many people start the program thinking all they have to do is quit getting loaded and all their problems will be solved. The harsh truth is that our real problem takes much longer to change.

I’m not sure how or why, but somehow I knew when I started working the program that it could teach me a new way of life, and I knew that it was something I desperately wanted. It hasn’t been easy, but the changes I’ve gone through and how my life is different now make it worth it. That was something else I shared at the meeting last night--that I wouldn’t keep doing this Recovery thing if it didn’t work.

Monday, June 13, 2011

“Grateful To Have A Life”

Sitting cross-legged on my back porch this morning, smoking a cigarette and downing some bold and bitter iced coffee I’d made up last night, I read the NA ‘Just For Today’ and almost laughed out loud. It was about having a full, busy life. I thought to myself, “hmm, this sounds familiar; wasn’t I just writing about this… yesterday?”

Indeed I was. Those of us who follow the JFT have all noticed an eerie prescience to that daily meditation. Whatever it is that we’re experiencing in our lives, the ‘Just For Today’ meditation has an amazing ability to hit us spot-on for what we’re going through. It is timely in a way that is almost psychic. My Friday night homegroup is a JFT meeting, and I have shared many times about what a coincidence it is that the reading talked about exactly what I was going through at that moment.

Of course, it’s not really a coincidence at all. The issues the ‘Just For Today’ talks about are things all us addicts deal with. Of course the readings are going to hit home, they discuss the issues we face living life in Recovery. The feeling of wonder we get at the JFT ‘knowing’ what’s going on in our lives is no different than the feeling we get when we hear a chairperson or a speaker tell our story. We are not so different from each other as we would like to believe. That is one of the great lies the disease tells us--that we’re unique, alone. We’re not.

Today’s meditation made a point that I didn’t yesterday. How many times have we been in a meeting and heard someone complain about how busy or full their life is these days? They go on and on about everything that is happening. Maybe it’s ourselves who is doing the complaining. The thing we can so easily forget is what a miracle it is to be sitting there complaining about having a life!

How many of us were homeless before we got clean & sober? How many of us were unemployable? Or in a mental institution? Or in prison? Before we started Recovery, we weren’t capable of having lives, it wasn’t possible. Working the program, doing the steps, being of service to others, we find our way back from the edge. With patience and dedication, we can be restored to sanity.

Having lives becomes possible. We become employable. We learn how to handle life on life’s terms. We learn how to handle it so well that we take on too much life and have to first-step ourselves again--remembering our powerlessness; recognizing once more our unmanageability. If we find ourselves thinking how insane our lives are getting? Time to apply the steps, the spiritual principles of the program, in all our affairs.

We always need to be restored to sanity. As people who suffer from the disease, our natural direction is going to be towards being insane. That’s where the disease is always trying to take us. We don’t get to stop working the program. The good news, as ever, is that there is a solution--if we keep on working the program, we will keep on being restored to sanity.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Recovery didn’t so much as save my life, as it gave me one. Complaining about actually having a life? I’ve been guilty of it. But I try my best to be in a state of gratitude that I even have a life at all. It truly is a miracle.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

“No Longer A Victim”

I’m at my favorite coffee shop, having a muffin and a severely over-caffeinated coffee confection for the first time in about a week. Feels good to be back here blogging. The weather has finally turned and the sun is beating down. A bit of a breeze keeps it from getting too hot. Though, if the people at the table in the shade leave, you know I’m taking it after they’re gone. Ah! And they just did. Maybe I should have wished to win the lottery instead ;-)

It’s been a full week. I had my vacation days up in Tahoe, and that was fantastic. I did some more long driving yesterday. My aunt is moving and offered me her couch, which she can’t take with her. The only catch? I had to go get it. Okay, not a problem. She lives in the next state over, about a two and a half hour drive each way. But hey, it’s a nice couch and she gave it to me. I’m not complaining, not by a long shot.

In between all the traveling, I’ve been working on music, both for my project and the one I’m producing for a local artist, as well as a bunch of Area work. I’m writing up manuals for each of the Officer positions, including the official descriptions of their jobs and some notes specific to our District. I’ve also done some fiction writing with a friend; we’re collaborating on a novel. My sponsees are out of town right now, but staying in touch. That reminds me: it’s been a bit since I talked to my own sponsor. Gotta do that today.

I’m a big believer in not having a busy life. A full life is a good thing, but a busy one? Not so much. Some might say that’s just semantics, but I disagree. A busy life, that sounds to me like a life where you’re at the whim of external forces, a life full of things you ‘have to’ do. It borders on the victim mentality. A full life? That sounds like a life of my choosing, where the things I’m doing are ones I want to do. I don’t see the distinction as a splitting hairs. It’s the difference been being active in my life or being passive in it. One of the big miracles of my life, how the program has changed me, has been in learning to stop thinking of myself as a victim. Everything I do, I do it because it’s something I’ve chosen to do. It’s about taking responsibility for myself, for my actions.

I remember when I was first clued in to my own victim mentality. It was when I worked the fourth step for the first time. There, listed out in black and white in my own handwriting, were all the things that I thought other people had done to me. Then I started writing out my part, seeing the role I had played in creating my own misery. With time and patience, I came to understand that it was seeing myself as a victim, as someone helpless at the mercy of a cruel world, that was what allowed me to be victimized. When I stopped thinking of myself as a victim and started being responsible for my self, that’s when he victimization stopped. It took practice, and it’s something I keep working on, but the change in my life is like night and day.

It’s true, we can’t control other people. We can only control ourselves, our actions, how we react to others--if we choose to react at all. Other people pick up on how we feel about ourselves. If we think we deserve to be taken advantage of, then other people will walk all over us. If we believe--truly believe deep in our hearts--that we deserve all the best in life, from our friends, from our romantic relationships, that that is what we will receive.

Thinking of myself as a victim, as someone doomed to a life of misery, was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Taking responsibility for myself, for my actions, coming to believe that life really can be good, well, that too is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

"Lakeshore"

About two hours' drive northeast of Sacramento is one of the largest freshwater lakes in the country--Lake Tahoe. It sits on the border between California and Nevada, right in the crook of, well, I don't know what else to call it except the California elbow. I'm up here for a few days and am currently sitting on the south shore of the Lake, watching as the sun sinks behind the snow-covered, majestic Sierra-Nevada mountains. My nights are spent in a swanky hotel room in one of the casinos on the Nevada side, thanks to a bellybutton birthday present from a good friend of mine.

((My phone is having some weird hiccup issue as I try to blog. Just pretend you hear me swearing at it every sentence or so.))

I love it up here, and have been many times. The environmental movement is very strong here, and the local activists work overtime to keep the lake as pure as possible. It's a little difficult for the local businesses and pure hell for new developers, but for us liberal hippie types, that's a good thing. I've done some gambling; won a little, lost a lot. I also took some time (as I can't seem to avoid doing) to do some deep thinking.

One of the most difficult things for addicts to overcome is the idea that we're different. I'm talking about the thought that *I* am different. *I'm* not like other addicts. They don't have the problems like what *I* have. They couldn't possibly understand *me*, *my* life, what *I* have been through and all I have to deal with. Aside from the obvious self-centered nature of this thinking, it presents another problem: a barrier is created between ourselves and others. If we don't learn to get over ourselves, then we won't allow ourselves to get the help we need. And then we go back out. And then we die. We have a phrase for it in the rooms: terminally unique.

I know I am not unique, that I suffer from the same disease other addicts and alcoholics suffer from. Maybe I can't relate to being in prison for years, or being homeless, but there are points in my story that others can relate to: my suicide attempts, for example, and the desperate need to not be miserable any longer. I know how to listen for the similarities, and I can talk with others. We can share about our experiences, and I know they understand where I'm coming from and vice versa.

Still, I'm all too aware of the ways I am different, too, and that old feeling of never fitting in can still show up. Loneliness is something I've battled my entire life. It's been present lately. First, it was from contact with the ex's (I don't have a special someone in my life at the moment). Being at the casinos, the feeling of not fitting in has come up as well. I'm not a big gambler, but I know plenty of people in Recovery who are. I'm not saying it's a problem for them, just that they do it and really enjoy it. Me? Not as much, which is why I don't do it very often.

Being at Lake Tahoe, though, there is so much more here than gambling. If you're looking for a party, this is probably not the best spot. What it is a good place for is enjoying some beautiful natural splendor. So after my gambling money ran out, I took a short drive up around the Lake. There are trails, beaches, and historical interest points all around the perimeter. I went to one that I had been to once before--a place I had unfinished business at. It's too long a story and probably not something that needs to be shared at this level anyway, so I'll make it short by saying I've been working on a luck charm to keep on my altar in my bedroom, and the spirits had guided me back to this spot so that I could get some closure and properly bless the items I needed from it. And I will add that after some deep prayer and conversation with my higher power, I felt much better. I'm hopeful the luck charm will be ready to be made up under the full moon next week.

Sometimes I think about this spiritual practice of mine, this bizarre blend of Christianity, Zen Buddhism, native beliefs, and paganism, and am aware how strange it might seem. So what? This is my journey, my path, how I connect with the spiritual realm. Sometimes, I think it's strange how I'm more comfortable communing with nature than dealing with people and the artificial environments they inhabit. How 'bout that?

I am who I am, and as I've recently been reminded, the only mission in life the Infinite All has ever given me is to be who I am as I have been created.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

“I’ll Take ‘T’ As In ‘Tired’, Pat”

If you don’t know it, learn it: HALT. Hungry Angry Lonely Tired. It’s one of those little sayings we have that help us to be in touch with ourselves, to know our limits, and to know when we’re on the edge. As sufferers from the disease, we’re not so good at being in touch with ourselves. Recognizing when we’re in one of the four states listed above helps us to remember that when we’re like that, we’re not functioning at full capacity. Tonight, I’m feeling the last of those--Tired.

This afternoon, I was at an Area meeting for three hours. It was very productive, but long. After that I went and had dinner with some family. It’s my grandmother’s birthday on Tuesday. That was a little difficult to deal with, but I dealt with it just fine. Then I went for a jog and pushed myself up another step. Today I jogged over a mile. I don’t think I’ve jogged a mile without walking since I was a kid. No, that’s a lie. I never jogged that much when I was a kid, so today I did something I’ve never done before that I never thought I could do. It’s a pretty huge milestone for me.

After taking a shower when I got home, I realized I needed some peace. Not the stay in my apartment and flop on the couch kind of peace, but more of a comfort-type action. So I decided to cruise over to my favorite coffee shop and do a little blogging. Cool night air, iced decaf, the patio, and my cigarettes. And wouldn’t you know it my ex-girlfriend is here. I saw her car in the parking lot when I pulled in and said a quick prayer. Inside, I saw her. She’s with a couple guys. And of course my addict brain checks the guys to see which is her boyfriend. Enough, brain, enough. I’m tired.

She asked how I was. I said exhausted, then went and ordered. Now, sitting outside, my thoughts keep trying to bring her into mind. Enough, brain, enough. I’m tired. For God’s sake, I even dealt with my ex-wife for the first time in years just last week. I wasn’t rude to either, but enough, brain, enough. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy to deal with any of that stuff on any level right now.

I accomplished a lot of good things today. I led a very successful Area meeting. Becoming an official district was the end result of many months of work. Now that we’ve made it, we aren’t resting on our laurels, we’re pressing ahead to bring our procedures and positions more in-line with the world services guidelines. We’re a pretty small District, so we have to figure out how much we can do, which positions to combine, so that all the bases get covered.

I’ve been slowly building up my workout routines for a while, too. Just the fact that I’m exercising every day is a big deal. I step up my weights on a regular basis, and I keep increasing the distance on my jogs. Pretty soon, I’ll be strong enough to start increasing my speed and that’s what I’m really looking forward to. Still, to crest this one-mile mark today feels good. Hopefully I’ll be more able to really be proud of that accomplishment when I’m not so tired.

These are the miracles of the program, working in my life today: Setting long-term plans for self-improvement and following through on them. Setting long-term goals for Service and achieving them. Having pleasant phone conversations with my ex-wife even though we haven’t spoken in years. Seeing my ex-girlfriend and having the wisdom to tell my diseased addict brain, “Not now, Uncle Steve; I’m tired.”

((Update: despite my exhausted state, I still remembered to park my car in a spot where there isn’t going to be street sweeping tomorrow--thus avoiding a $50 parking ticket. Now that’s what I call progress.))

Saturday, June 4, 2011

“Tests And Opportunities”

It’s raining again. The weather forecast tells me that it’s going to be like this for the next few days, culminating in thunderstorms on Monday. The talk amongst friends is that we’re tired of this, it’s June, and where the hell is Summer?! It’s a good thing this blog isn’t the soapbox for all my liberal causes, otherwise I’d be starting a long rant about the global climate change deniers. Alas, this is a Recovery blog and Recovery teaches us acceptance of others and letting go of the things we cannot change.

I’m a fan of rain, to tell the truth. Sitting here, at my computer in my studio upstairs, I have a great view of the drops coming down, washing over the leaves of trees that probably are supposed to have fallen off already. There’s a comfort for me in the rain, something about how it sends everyone running for cover. It’s just a little water, folks! Nature, God, Mother Earth--however you choose to describe it--is a powerful force, a great reminder of the power out there greater than ourselves.

Tapping into the spiritual energy, cultivating a deeper relationship with the power greater than ourselves, is such a an important part of the program. At first, we use that power to help us stay clean & sober (since we’re powerless to do so on our own). Later, as we progress in the program, we learn to rely on it more and more for our everyday lives (because our lives are unmanageable). Lately, I’ve been reminded how we get the help we need from our higher power--if we ask for it.

Something I have had major difficulty with in the past is having strong boundaries and not letting myself get taken advantage of. Making a long story very short, I recently stood up for myself on an issue along those lines. It was difficult, but I knew I needed to take action. I talked it over with my sponsor, then with his guidance did what I had to do. I felt like total shit afterwards. I called my sponsor to let him know how things had gone. He was really supportive and reassured me that I had done the right thing.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, so I started calling some other people in my life to get their opinions. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust what my sponsor had said, just that what my own diseased brain was saying was so much louder. So I called some other people whose opinion I really respect as well. They all reaffirmed what my sponsor had said. It was enough for me to say to myself, “okay brain, I hear you shouting over there, but I’m not going to listen to you this time.” I’ve been doing this Recovery thing long enough to know that my disease lies to me. All. The. Time.

Here’s where the Higher Power ties in, though: I had been doing a lot of praying and meditating about this issue, asking for guidance, for help. After I took action, the very next day I was presented with two more opportunities to practice my new and different behavior in this area. One was an issue of setting boundaries so that I don’t get taken advantage of, the other was not rescuing someone else and allowing them to be responsible for their own problems. It’s almost as if the Infinite All said, “Really? You really want to change how you do this? Well, here’s a little test to see if you’re serious.”

I’m a big believer in Three being a spiritual number; it has shown significance in my life. To have three examples on this issue, all with 24 hours, to me that’s a sign of my higher power at work in my life. I don’t know for sure if I was being tested, per se, but I lit up my spiritual space last night and gave thanks to the spirits anyway for it. I even burned a little sage.

Talking with one of my fellows after a meeting last night, we compared notes. I told him about what I’d just been through. He shared about his moving through a period of growth in his program as well, even though it’s over a different issue. The thing we both connected on is how we see these times, when they happen in our lives now, as opportunities for progress. We know that the disease wants us to fail these tests. The disease doesn’t want us to succeed, to take care of ourselves, or to feel good. The disease wants us to feel like shit so that we’ll go out, get loaded, feel even worse, and then (ultimately) die.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

“An Interview At Last”

Wow. Okay, so I was laid-off from my previous job last April. I’ve done a little temp work, done some under-the-table jobs for friends, played some gigs here and there, but have basically been unemployed for over a year. I’ve sent out applications, resumes, but it’s been really quiet on the job front. As in, dead silent. No calls, no interviews, nothing.

Last Friday, I finally got a call to come in and interview for a position. The interview was this morning. How does it feel? Well, if I do get the job, ask me then. Until I hear one way or the other, I must admit to being very on-guard against feeling anything too strongly. The interview went well, though, that much I can say.

It’s been said that those of us who really work the program end up being great employees. It has something to do, I think, with having a new lease on life, and about going about out lives intentionally. We suit up and show up. We’re honest, dependable, and grateful. Or maybe that’s a load of horseshit. Ah, I don’t know.

I guess I’ve got a lot of mixed emotions going on; that’s why it’s hard to sort things out. I’m not second-guessing myself, though, not thinking I got the job or didn’t. It’s other stuff. I want to be able to pay my rent, buy food, have money for other expenses. At the same time, I enjoy having time to work on all my artistic endeavors. I’m a little worried, too, about how working will interfere with my long-term plans to become a therapist. On the other hand, how can I even continue to pay for school without income?

There’s many thoughts swimming around my brain, threatening to turn into obsession. And yet... they aren’t. They’re below the surface, but not breaking through. It seems to be a Recovery thing. Like, I did the next right thing and it was almost instinctual. The past few days, as I had this interview looming, I wasn’t obsessing over it. I didn’t play out any imaginary conversations. If I felt myself starting to worry or obsess, I pushed it back and did that wonderful letting go thing I’ve been practicing for the past few years.

Today, when I went into the interview calm, relaxed, friendly, making jokes. I talked about my work experience, of course, but I realized something as I left. They say selling yourself is a big part of the interview process. I’ve always hated that idea. I don’t think of myself as a very good salesman. To me, making a sale is about convincing someone to buy something they don’t need. It feels like manipulation.

I didn’t try to manipulate the interview, and the only thing I ‘sold’ was my personable nature. That’s what I realized as I was walking away--that I was really letting that side of myself shine. Sort of like an audition for an acting role, almost. Except I wasn’t playing a character for the interviewer, I was just... me. This is me, this is who I am. If you hire me, this is who you’re going to get.

I have no idea if I’m making any sense in all this. The Recovery miracle today for me was in being centered within myself, knowing that I’m a good guy with a lot to offer. No ego about thinking they’d be lucky to have me as an employee, no insecurity about thinking I have nothing to offer. Confidence, that’s the word. And I got there by letting go, by asking for God’s help, and trusting in it. My job? Go to the interview and believe in myself. And I did.

I think that’s why I feel so good about the interview. We’ll keep the fingers crossed that I get hired.