Hello, readers. Thanks for stopping by 'Thoughts On The Disease'. Because of my new job, I'm not able to write on the blog very often. New posts will be few and far between. I've also pulled the videos from YouTube. Something about it didn't seem to be in true keeping with the 11th Tradition.
Remember, this entire blog's archive is searchable. If there is a Recovery-related topic or even just general life advice you're looking for, type your keyword into the box in the upper left corner and you'll see posts where I've written about it.
Best of luck all, and thanks for reading. Stay clean. Stay Sober. Remember, we're not human beings having a spiritual experience, we're spiritual beings having a human experience.
~Zach W.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
“Letting Go Of People”
One of my favorite books is “Illusions” by Richard Bach, the same author that wrote “Jonathan Livingston Seagull”. I first read it when I was about ten years old and I still keep it handy because there is so much powerful, amazing wisdom in it. I recommend the book to all my sponsees, have bought copies for ex-girlfriends, and tell anyone seeking deeper spiritual understanding about it.
It’s a short book, written in a first-person narrative, and the story is fantastic. It’s about a spiritual master who was going to become a modern-day savior, but instead changed his mind and quit. The plot of the book follows the author as he meets this almost-savior and learns the advanced spiritual wisdom he knows. As the book progresses, the author learns more and more from the master, ultimately becoming one himself.
There is a moment near the end, where the master is quizzing his pupil, pretending to be a seeker searching for deep knowledge and understanding. The author gives a long-winded reply and the master chides him about needing to keep it short, that he will lose his entire audience if he can’t learn to keep his responses brief. The author sort of throws up his hands and says something like, ‘so what? I know what I know and you asked so if you don’t like the answers, tough--no one’s forcing you to listen.’ The master then laughs and congratulates his student, telling him he’s just graduated. “How does it feel?” The master asks. The author replies, “frustrating as hell.” His teacher laughs again and counsels him that he’ll get used to it.
I think about that passage from the book sometimes. Like when I’m frustrated with people in the program who won’t listen, or when I hear about addicts who still drink or smoke pot, or when I feel down about how more people don’t follow this blog. There’s a little voice inside me that wants to shout, “hey! I’ve got some seriously profound shit to say over here that will literally change your life!”
But I can’t control others, I can’t make them listen, and even if I could, who is to say that what is right for me is right for them?
It always comes back to boundaries. My sponsor tells me from time to time that I care too much. And he’s not saying, ‘Zach, be more of a dick,’ he means that I’m taking ownership of stuff that isn’t mine. Even with my sponsees, it’s not up to me to make someone else ‘get’ the program. That’s an impossible task anyway. And even if someone else does get it, that has very little to do with me and much more to do with them, with their choices, and their insights.
I key into the 12-step program on the spiritual level. That’s where I ‘get’ it, where I relate to it and process the wisdom it teaches. But not everyone is looking to have a deep, meaningful spiritual experience. Some people are just looking to not get loaded anymore, and that’s fine. For me, that’s what freedom means--by not getting fucked up anymore, I am allowed to have a profound spiritual life. Part of that deal is allowing others to not have that if they don’t want it. How other people live their lives, how they work the program, none of that is for me to decide. I get to decide for myself how I live, how I work the program, and that is enough.
Letting go of other people is a big part of the program. Forget about trying to control our using; accepting our powerlessness over substances? That shit is piecemeal compared to learning how to stop trying to control others.
There will always be other people in our lives who don’t live the way we think they should. There will be people who think differently, who act differently, who feel and say things other than what we wish they would. Letting go of others is not an art I’ve perfected, just another thing I keep working on, and it’s a catch-all category that covers just about everything.
From an active addict who always flakes, to a battered woman who won’t leave her boyfriend. From a coworker who drinks too much, to a fellow in recovery who hasn’t yet learned to stop being an asshole. From an ex-friend who never returns messages, to a woman I might be interested in that only wants to be ‘just friends’.
Other people get to make their own choices, and I get to let them. Whether I think they’re bad or good is irrelevant. If I try to control other people, I go right back to being as insane as I ever was when I was using. My life goes right back to being unmanageable. My serenity is dependent upon letting go, upon my not trying to control other people.
If we want to truly recover, we have to let go of everything that isn’t ours. We don’t have to agree with how other people live their lives, the things they do and say, and we certainly don’t have to like it, but we do have to accept it. Because that’s What Is.
It’s a short book, written in a first-person narrative, and the story is fantastic. It’s about a spiritual master who was going to become a modern-day savior, but instead changed his mind and quit. The plot of the book follows the author as he meets this almost-savior and learns the advanced spiritual wisdom he knows. As the book progresses, the author learns more and more from the master, ultimately becoming one himself.
There is a moment near the end, where the master is quizzing his pupil, pretending to be a seeker searching for deep knowledge and understanding. The author gives a long-winded reply and the master chides him about needing to keep it short, that he will lose his entire audience if he can’t learn to keep his responses brief. The author sort of throws up his hands and says something like, ‘so what? I know what I know and you asked so if you don’t like the answers, tough--no one’s forcing you to listen.’ The master then laughs and congratulates his student, telling him he’s just graduated. “How does it feel?” The master asks. The author replies, “frustrating as hell.” His teacher laughs again and counsels him that he’ll get used to it.
I think about that passage from the book sometimes. Like when I’m frustrated with people in the program who won’t listen, or when I hear about addicts who still drink or smoke pot, or when I feel down about how more people don’t follow this blog. There’s a little voice inside me that wants to shout, “hey! I’ve got some seriously profound shit to say over here that will literally change your life!”
But I can’t control others, I can’t make them listen, and even if I could, who is to say that what is right for me is right for them?
It always comes back to boundaries. My sponsor tells me from time to time that I care too much. And he’s not saying, ‘Zach, be more of a dick,’ he means that I’m taking ownership of stuff that isn’t mine. Even with my sponsees, it’s not up to me to make someone else ‘get’ the program. That’s an impossible task anyway. And even if someone else does get it, that has very little to do with me and much more to do with them, with their choices, and their insights.
I key into the 12-step program on the spiritual level. That’s where I ‘get’ it, where I relate to it and process the wisdom it teaches. But not everyone is looking to have a deep, meaningful spiritual experience. Some people are just looking to not get loaded anymore, and that’s fine. For me, that’s what freedom means--by not getting fucked up anymore, I am allowed to have a profound spiritual life. Part of that deal is allowing others to not have that if they don’t want it. How other people live their lives, how they work the program, none of that is for me to decide. I get to decide for myself how I live, how I work the program, and that is enough.
Letting go of other people is a big part of the program. Forget about trying to control our using; accepting our powerlessness over substances? That shit is piecemeal compared to learning how to stop trying to control others.
There will always be other people in our lives who don’t live the way we think they should. There will be people who think differently, who act differently, who feel and say things other than what we wish they would. Letting go of others is not an art I’ve perfected, just another thing I keep working on, and it’s a catch-all category that covers just about everything.
From an active addict who always flakes, to a battered woman who won’t leave her boyfriend. From a coworker who drinks too much, to a fellow in recovery who hasn’t yet learned to stop being an asshole. From an ex-friend who never returns messages, to a woman I might be interested in that only wants to be ‘just friends’.
Other people get to make their own choices, and I get to let them. Whether I think they’re bad or good is irrelevant. If I try to control other people, I go right back to being as insane as I ever was when I was using. My life goes right back to being unmanageable. My serenity is dependent upon letting go, upon my not trying to control other people.
If we want to truly recover, we have to let go of everything that isn’t ours. We don’t have to agree with how other people live their lives, the things they do and say, and we certainly don’t have to like it, but we do have to accept it. Because that’s What Is.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
“R.I.P., Amy Winehouse”
Over the weekend, news struck of the death of British singer Amy Winehouse at the tragically young age of twenty-seven. Though it hasn’t been officially confirmed as far as I know, I’m pretty sure she died from a drug overdose. To anyone familiar with this artist’s life, I don’t think we need official confirmation about that. Her struggles with substances were well-known and one of her most popular songs was about refusing to get clean.
After the news hit, I watched my social network connections and participated in a lot of the conversations about her death. There were a few haters out there, and a few conversations about the haters, too. Those were the ones I paid the most attention to. One comment in particular that sticks out in my mind was a very judgmental poster who wrote that addiction isn’t a disease, it’s a choice; that he was able to get himself off of drugs and that anyone who chooses to stay on them deserves the consequences, even if it means they die. Basically, he was saying she deserved to die and good riddance.
Maybe I’m being harsh in summarizing this poster’s comment, but it was a pretty harsh comment and I don’t see the need to beat around the bush about it. I didn’t smack him down, didn’t judge his judgmental words, I just wrote about how ironic it is that when someone gets themselves off of drugs without help, they tend to be even more judgmental towards the people who are still hooked. You’d think they’d be thanking their lucky stars that they were able to get off the stuff, but instead of gratitude, they are filled with animosity. This is what we refer to in the program as, “sobriety without Recovery.”
I was never into Winehouse’s music, but I’d listen to her songs when they came on. I even have a little hope that, because of her untimely death, she might be better remembered. That’s how these things tend to go. Regardless, the Disease has claimed another one of us.
Winehouse isn’t the first artist to die from a drug overdose and she definitely won’t be the last. Use and abuse of drugs goes hand-in-hand for all artists, and musicians especially. I’ve been there, myself, obviously. Yes, I am saddened by her passing, but at times like this I remember one of the most sobering slogans to be passed around the rooms of Recovery, something my sponsor first told me when my very first sponsee committed suicide--that some must die so that others may live.
Requiescat in pace, Amy Winehouse. God rest your weary soul.
After the news hit, I watched my social network connections and participated in a lot of the conversations about her death. There were a few haters out there, and a few conversations about the haters, too. Those were the ones I paid the most attention to. One comment in particular that sticks out in my mind was a very judgmental poster who wrote that addiction isn’t a disease, it’s a choice; that he was able to get himself off of drugs and that anyone who chooses to stay on them deserves the consequences, even if it means they die. Basically, he was saying she deserved to die and good riddance.
Maybe I’m being harsh in summarizing this poster’s comment, but it was a pretty harsh comment and I don’t see the need to beat around the bush about it. I didn’t smack him down, didn’t judge his judgmental words, I just wrote about how ironic it is that when someone gets themselves off of drugs without help, they tend to be even more judgmental towards the people who are still hooked. You’d think they’d be thanking their lucky stars that they were able to get off the stuff, but instead of gratitude, they are filled with animosity. This is what we refer to in the program as, “sobriety without Recovery.”
I was never into Winehouse’s music, but I’d listen to her songs when they came on. I even have a little hope that, because of her untimely death, she might be better remembered. That’s how these things tend to go. Regardless, the Disease has claimed another one of us.
Winehouse isn’t the first artist to die from a drug overdose and she definitely won’t be the last. Use and abuse of drugs goes hand-in-hand for all artists, and musicians especially. I’ve been there, myself, obviously. Yes, I am saddened by her passing, but at times like this I remember one of the most sobering slogans to be passed around the rooms of Recovery, something my sponsor first told me when my very first sponsee committed suicide--that some must die so that others may live.
Requiescat in pace, Amy Winehouse. God rest your weary soul.
Monday, July 25, 2011
“Depression Warning”
When I was unemployed, I didn’t sit around doing nothing; I had my music, lots of meetings and service work, pool, friends, etc. Since going back to work, it’s been a little bit of a question as to how to keep all of that going and work full-time, too. The simple answer is that I haven’t. But, in general, I’ve been pretty successful at adjusting. I’m still doing everything--mostly--just doing less of each. Instead of going to three or four meetings a week, I do one or two. Instead of blogging every day or two, I write every three or four days. And I’m glad to say I only missed one day of exercise--that was really important to me to keep up. I haven’t gotten out to shoot pool yet, and I did have a stack of Netflix movies that sat unwatched for several weeks. But I just watched a couple of them over the weekend, and I will get back out to shoot soon enough.
Learning how to keep my life going, being back at work after not working for a year, is a process. And there have been some bumps along the way. After a really rough couple of days on the job, I had some serious doubts. So I reached out for conscious contact and received wisdom--it’s just a job; go to work, get paid, that’s what it’s for. Since that moment, stress has been much lower and I’ve felt a lot better. It’s a far cry from the days of agonizing in misery about having to work at all, and feeling depressed about not being recognized for the skilled employee I am.
Speaking of depression, though, I want to pivot a bit here. I’ve had my struggles with it, but have been fortunate enough that my issues in that area have pretty much vanished, thanks to my working the program. Not everyone is so lucky. I know so many people who just struggle, and struggle, and struggle. Finding the right meds is a challenge. Remembering to take them every day is even more of a challenge. Getting out of bed when they’re not working, or it’s just a straight-up bad day? Next to impossible.
I have one good friend in the program who, if he’s off his meds for even a couple days, the change is visible. His apathy-level skyrockets. His tendency to isolate increases dramatically. He fidgets constantly, as though trying to escape somehow from his own skin. It’s hard to watch, hard to see him suffering, and sometimes it’s even hard to remember to have compassion for him. It might seem like such a simple thing--just take the medication--but something so easily said is not so easily done. Kind of like, “if you have a problem, why don’t you just quit?”
Another real difficulty for those who suffer from Depression is that this particular evil really does not like it when you feel good. A lot of us who struggle with just plain addiction are aware of how hard it is to be okay with feeling okay. Especially at first, we aren’t used to feeling good. We’re so used to feeling bad that we find ways to sabotage ourselves, drag our lives back down. Learning to accept the times we feel good is a process of Recovery, too.
For those dealing with Depression in addition to addiction, the challenge becomes at least ten times as difficult. It’s a mental illness that will do everything it can to keep someone from feeling good about themselves, and the harder you push, the harder it pushes back. It’s like one step forward, five steps back. Constantly.
My heart goes out to all those who have this added challenge, and the only advice I can think to give is to remember what it says in ‘how it works’--“There are those too who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest.”
There is hope, my friends.
Learning how to keep my life going, being back at work after not working for a year, is a process. And there have been some bumps along the way. After a really rough couple of days on the job, I had some serious doubts. So I reached out for conscious contact and received wisdom--it’s just a job; go to work, get paid, that’s what it’s for. Since that moment, stress has been much lower and I’ve felt a lot better. It’s a far cry from the days of agonizing in misery about having to work at all, and feeling depressed about not being recognized for the skilled employee I am.
Speaking of depression, though, I want to pivot a bit here. I’ve had my struggles with it, but have been fortunate enough that my issues in that area have pretty much vanished, thanks to my working the program. Not everyone is so lucky. I know so many people who just struggle, and struggle, and struggle. Finding the right meds is a challenge. Remembering to take them every day is even more of a challenge. Getting out of bed when they’re not working, or it’s just a straight-up bad day? Next to impossible.
I have one good friend in the program who, if he’s off his meds for even a couple days, the change is visible. His apathy-level skyrockets. His tendency to isolate increases dramatically. He fidgets constantly, as though trying to escape somehow from his own skin. It’s hard to watch, hard to see him suffering, and sometimes it’s even hard to remember to have compassion for him. It might seem like such a simple thing--just take the medication--but something so easily said is not so easily done. Kind of like, “if you have a problem, why don’t you just quit?”
Another real difficulty for those who suffer from Depression is that this particular evil really does not like it when you feel good. A lot of us who struggle with just plain addiction are aware of how hard it is to be okay with feeling okay. Especially at first, we aren’t used to feeling good. We’re so used to feeling bad that we find ways to sabotage ourselves, drag our lives back down. Learning to accept the times we feel good is a process of Recovery, too.
For those dealing with Depression in addition to addiction, the challenge becomes at least ten times as difficult. It’s a mental illness that will do everything it can to keep someone from feeling good about themselves, and the harder you push, the harder it pushes back. It’s like one step forward, five steps back. Constantly.
My heart goes out to all those who have this added challenge, and the only advice I can think to give is to remember what it says in ‘how it works’--“There are those too who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest.”
There is hope, my friends.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
“Guy Talk (of a sort)”
From time to time, I am reminded, that is to say I become even more keenly aware of the fact, that I am not like other men. And not in an AA Big Book kind of way. In a way that I’ve never really understood or been able to articulate. In fact, if you want to know a secret, I sincerely hope that after my life is over, it will be revealed to me just what exactly the fuck the deal is. And before I go any further with this, I want to say that, yes, I am aware of how I am ‘different’ in terms of being an addict/alcoholic. This post isn’t about that.
Over the years, I’ve had a lot of theories. One is that it has something to do with being raised around only girls when I was a little kid, that there’s something about me that just doesn’t ‘feel’ right for a man who’s straight. Like, I missed out on some early male-emotional-dampening training or something. Or maybe I just missed basic training in how to form male relationships, so I lack some kind of learned instinct there when it comes to relating to other guys.
Maybe it’s an alpha-male thing. Like, I’m not a follower; I’m my own man, but to contemplate that brings up some interesting thoughts. Such as, I’m not a dick, what is up with these other guys who lash out, attack? They’re like puffed-up bullies on the schoolyard from when I was a kid. Men do it as adults, too. What’s up with that? I mean, what did I ever do to them? And hey, maybe that’s a part of the puzzle that’s missing--that guys are just guys and it’s something I don’t really understand. Maybe what they sense in me is the kind of vibe that when other guys give it off it’s because they’re the type of man who does attack? So they attack first as some kind of pre-emptive action? I don’t even know what I’m saying.
Ah see, here we go again. I’m trying to guess at other people’s motives, trying to read minds. That isn’t possible. I have a difficult enough time trying to understand myself; understanding other people is mostly beyond me. But even having written that, something doesn’t feel right. Because I do understand other people. Often. There’s just something here that I don’t get.
Stepping back a little, I think a thought that I’ve had many times: why are people assholes? Sounds silly, after all I’ve been one more than a few times in my life. But seriously, I think about this: why are people so horrible to each other? Why do people treat each other like shit? And what is it about me that this very, very common fact about life still surprises me? Where did I get the idea that it’s not supposed to be like this? Certainly not from the available evidence!
One of my best guesses, knowing what I do about how boys are raised vs girls, and about female vs male children subculture, is that I spent my formative years learning how to relate to other people in a cooperative way instead of a competitive way. In a workforce, I work well with women and not so much with men. I’m not a ‘good old boy’. I have always been excluded from that club, for a reason I have never quite understood. But it feels like something that’s tied in with all of this... stuff.
This is all way too much analysis. The short? I have had a lonely life, one where I’ve often felt that I don’t fit in. It’s one of the big reasons I started getting high--I had a built-in group of friends. And all the shit that was always bothering me went away, too. I didn’t have to worry about being weird, feeling insecure, being smart, or any of the rest of that stuff. Maybe people accepted me just because I was the idiot stoner, but at least they accepted me.
Which is not to say that no one accepts me now, just that... a lot of people talk about the deep, abiding acceptance and friendship they have found in the fellowship. That has not been my experience. I have met people, made friends through going to meetings, but a deep friendship that’s lasted? Not as yet. And hey, maybe that’s just the nature of life, that friends come and go. ‘The only constant is change’.
Or shit, maybe I’m just inherently a loner and I’m feeling depressed because I’m working again, doing this clerical bullshit that I hate when I’d rather just be a hippie peace-loving artist type. There’s always that possibility.
Over the years, I’ve had a lot of theories. One is that it has something to do with being raised around only girls when I was a little kid, that there’s something about me that just doesn’t ‘feel’ right for a man who’s straight. Like, I missed out on some early male-emotional-dampening training or something. Or maybe I just missed basic training in how to form male relationships, so I lack some kind of learned instinct there when it comes to relating to other guys.
Maybe it’s an alpha-male thing. Like, I’m not a follower; I’m my own man, but to contemplate that brings up some interesting thoughts. Such as, I’m not a dick, what is up with these other guys who lash out, attack? They’re like puffed-up bullies on the schoolyard from when I was a kid. Men do it as adults, too. What’s up with that? I mean, what did I ever do to them? And hey, maybe that’s a part of the puzzle that’s missing--that guys are just guys and it’s something I don’t really understand. Maybe what they sense in me is the kind of vibe that when other guys give it off it’s because they’re the type of man who does attack? So they attack first as some kind of pre-emptive action? I don’t even know what I’m saying.
Ah see, here we go again. I’m trying to guess at other people’s motives, trying to read minds. That isn’t possible. I have a difficult enough time trying to understand myself; understanding other people is mostly beyond me. But even having written that, something doesn’t feel right. Because I do understand other people. Often. There’s just something here that I don’t get.
Stepping back a little, I think a thought that I’ve had many times: why are people assholes? Sounds silly, after all I’ve been one more than a few times in my life. But seriously, I think about this: why are people so horrible to each other? Why do people treat each other like shit? And what is it about me that this very, very common fact about life still surprises me? Where did I get the idea that it’s not supposed to be like this? Certainly not from the available evidence!
One of my best guesses, knowing what I do about how boys are raised vs girls, and about female vs male children subculture, is that I spent my formative years learning how to relate to other people in a cooperative way instead of a competitive way. In a workforce, I work well with women and not so much with men. I’m not a ‘good old boy’. I have always been excluded from that club, for a reason I have never quite understood. But it feels like something that’s tied in with all of this... stuff.
This is all way too much analysis. The short? I have had a lonely life, one where I’ve often felt that I don’t fit in. It’s one of the big reasons I started getting high--I had a built-in group of friends. And all the shit that was always bothering me went away, too. I didn’t have to worry about being weird, feeling insecure, being smart, or any of the rest of that stuff. Maybe people accepted me just because I was the idiot stoner, but at least they accepted me.
Which is not to say that no one accepts me now, just that... a lot of people talk about the deep, abiding acceptance and friendship they have found in the fellowship. That has not been my experience. I have met people, made friends through going to meetings, but a deep friendship that’s lasted? Not as yet. And hey, maybe that’s just the nature of life, that friends come and go. ‘The only constant is change’.
Or shit, maybe I’m just inherently a loner and I’m feeling depressed because I’m working again, doing this clerical bullshit that I hate when I’d rather just be a hippie peace-loving artist type. There’s always that possibility.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
“Sunday For Me”
I’m inside at my regular coffee shop. It’s too hot to sit outside and smoke as I write, and plus some guy with a whole pack of huge dogs is sitting out there. So I’m in here enjoying a muffin, a carbonated caffeine confection, and a view of a very pretty redhead as she works on some type of school project. And wouldn’t you know it, my drink just spilled all over.
You gotta laugh. Or at least I do. What’s there to be embarrassed about, really? Was I actually going to try to talk to her? Most likely not. Does she care that I spilled all over the table, or that I cleaned it all up right away? Did she even notice?
So why laugh? Because of how seriously I still take myself. Because a pretty woman can still turn me right back into a insecure teenager. Because of all of that goes on inside my head while the outside of me is the picture of calm, like I got everything under control. It’s the strange dichotomy of knowing all the stuff that moves through my mind and how the surface rarely reflects any of it. It’s as one of my fellows likes to say: I still have all the parts of me inside, all the sides of myself I’ve ever been; the difference now is that (thanks to the program) they don’t rule me.
Although, I suppose if I’m still insecure enough not to go introduce myself to a pretty girl, then some of those things do still rule me. Guess that just means there’s still work to be done.
I’ve set today aside as a ‘me’ day. With all the stress at work, plus the other stuff I’ve been dealing with like the car, I knew I needed a day to myself for just... whatever. If I don’t take care of myself, then I’m no good to anyone else. I’ll take time to clean the apartment up, work on some music, and hopefully watch this long-ass movie I got through my Netflix that I’ve been putting off watching because it is so long.
Some people don’t have any trouble taking care of themselves, stepping back when they need a break. It’s something I’ve had to work to learn. Learning that’s it’s not only okay to take time for myself, but that it’s a necessary part of living, has been a very a good thing. Someone once told me a long time ago that being an adult means you have one job: to take care of yourself. That job entails a lot of different things--working so that you have money to eat, a place to live, etc. But also having good boundaries, dealing with your issues, and much more.
Lots of us in the rooms feel that we’ve grown up in the program, and that’s true for me as well. Though I think I’d phrase it a little more specifically than that. The program hasn’t taught me how to be an adult, it’s given me the tools to learn it for myself. It always seems to come back to that. The program hasn’t shown me how to live life, it’s given me a way of living clean and sober, a way that works, that provides me with the opportunity to change and to grow. I get the opportunity to live my life; whether I choose to do so is up to me.
You gotta laugh. Or at least I do. What’s there to be embarrassed about, really? Was I actually going to try to talk to her? Most likely not. Does she care that I spilled all over the table, or that I cleaned it all up right away? Did she even notice?
So why laugh? Because of how seriously I still take myself. Because a pretty woman can still turn me right back into a insecure teenager. Because of all of that goes on inside my head while the outside of me is the picture of calm, like I got everything under control. It’s the strange dichotomy of knowing all the stuff that moves through my mind and how the surface rarely reflects any of it. It’s as one of my fellows likes to say: I still have all the parts of me inside, all the sides of myself I’ve ever been; the difference now is that (thanks to the program) they don’t rule me.
Although, I suppose if I’m still insecure enough not to go introduce myself to a pretty girl, then some of those things do still rule me. Guess that just means there’s still work to be done.
I’ve set today aside as a ‘me’ day. With all the stress at work, plus the other stuff I’ve been dealing with like the car, I knew I needed a day to myself for just... whatever. If I don’t take care of myself, then I’m no good to anyone else. I’ll take time to clean the apartment up, work on some music, and hopefully watch this long-ass movie I got through my Netflix that I’ve been putting off watching because it is so long.
Some people don’t have any trouble taking care of themselves, stepping back when they need a break. It’s something I’ve had to work to learn. Learning that’s it’s not only okay to take time for myself, but that it’s a necessary part of living, has been a very a good thing. Someone once told me a long time ago that being an adult means you have one job: to take care of yourself. That job entails a lot of different things--working so that you have money to eat, a place to live, etc. But also having good boundaries, dealing with your issues, and much more.
Lots of us in the rooms feel that we’ve grown up in the program, and that’s true for me as well. Though I think I’d phrase it a little more specifically than that. The program hasn’t taught me how to be an adult, it’s given me the tools to learn it for myself. It always seems to come back to that. The program hasn’t shown me how to live life, it’s given me a way of living clean and sober, a way that works, that provides me with the opportunity to change and to grow. I get the opportunity to live my life; whether I choose to do so is up to me.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
“Sometimes Life Just Is”
What a week. Work is good, in the sense that it’s good to be employed, better to be getting paid well for it, but the pay is earned through high levels of stress. I had a minor issue with Area to deal with, and my homegroup last night was... lame. Oh, and the clutch went out in my car. But it’s been fixed and I don’t really feel like going over the whole story about that. I think I used up all my complaining credits with the new tires ordeal.
I’ve started at least one blog this week but been unable to finish it. I had a look at what I’d written, but just wasn’t feeling the subject so much anymore. It was going to be a big diatribe on how so many new meetings have started because of resentments.
I’ve had other thoughts for writing, too, about smaller fellowships that have a hard time growing, like my Marijuana Anonymous group that I go to. People go to them for a while, get time, and leave because there aren’t people with time in those meetings. And yet, the reason there isn’t people with time is because when people get time, they leave because there aren’t more people with time. You’ve heard about Marijuana Anonymous, right? It’s a gateway fellowship; leads to harder and stronger fellowships?
There was an incident at work, well, not an incident, just the staff joking around about my baldness and cracking wise about my looking like a skinhead . But ya know, I don’t really feel like writing about all that either.
So there you are, I’ve chewed up half a blog writing about all the things I’m not going to write about. I’ll go ahead and throw in a casual mention here about how it’s not like thousands of people peruse this site everyday, depending on me for help living life on life’s terms.
I’m not bitter, just... tired I guess. Yes the job is stressful, but when I do finally see my paycheck at the end of this month, it will all have been worth it. There’s lots of potential at this place for a career track for me, and that’s promising. Sure, I was pissed beyond belief about the car, but it’s fixed now. And I spent some time with my dad today and really enjoyed that.
In a weird way, I feel like I’m settling into my own skin even more. Not worrying so much about always trying to be as spiritual as possible, just allowing myself to just be.
There’s something, too, going though my mind--a little bit of loneliness. And that’s okay. All things in their time, I suppose.
Maybe what I’m feeling is that life doesn’t necessarily have some big, overarching, deep meaning; maybe life just is. You live it, you make your choices, and it is.
Still sober over here, though.
I’ve started at least one blog this week but been unable to finish it. I had a look at what I’d written, but just wasn’t feeling the subject so much anymore. It was going to be a big diatribe on how so many new meetings have started because of resentments.
I’ve had other thoughts for writing, too, about smaller fellowships that have a hard time growing, like my Marijuana Anonymous group that I go to. People go to them for a while, get time, and leave because there aren’t people with time in those meetings. And yet, the reason there isn’t people with time is because when people get time, they leave because there aren’t more people with time. You’ve heard about Marijuana Anonymous, right? It’s a gateway fellowship; leads to harder and stronger fellowships?
There was an incident at work, well, not an incident, just the staff joking around about my baldness and cracking wise about my looking like a skinhead . But ya know, I don’t really feel like writing about all that either.
So there you are, I’ve chewed up half a blog writing about all the things I’m not going to write about. I’ll go ahead and throw in a casual mention here about how it’s not like thousands of people peruse this site everyday, depending on me for help living life on life’s terms.
I’m not bitter, just... tired I guess. Yes the job is stressful, but when I do finally see my paycheck at the end of this month, it will all have been worth it. There’s lots of potential at this place for a career track for me, and that’s promising. Sure, I was pissed beyond belief about the car, but it’s fixed now. And I spent some time with my dad today and really enjoyed that.
In a weird way, I feel like I’m settling into my own skin even more. Not worrying so much about always trying to be as spiritual as possible, just allowing myself to just be.
There’s something, too, going though my mind--a little bit of loneliness. And that’s okay. All things in their time, I suppose.
Maybe what I’m feeling is that life doesn’t necessarily have some big, overarching, deep meaning; maybe life just is. You live it, you make your choices, and it is.
Still sober over here, though.
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