Category Archives: AA

HOW IT WORKS – if you work it

The point of the 12 Steps is ego deflation. Granted, ego’s a necessary part of the psyche that aims to get our needs met. We couldn’t survive without it.

But what if ego runs our lives? “Selfishness — self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles” (62). Ego distorts our outlook so that we base all our decisions on flawed thinking. We make a mess of relationships, and often finances, driving, and the law as well. Then our daily lives become so riddled with tension, guilt, worry, and hurt feelings that we reach for booze or some other mental oil slick to blur our troubles so we can slide past them and just not care – for a little while.

When I came to AA 30 years ago, I felt damn sure there was nothing wrong with my thinking. I dismissed the 12 Steps at a glance as nicey-nice instructional platitudes; that is, simplistic admonitions with way too much “God” in them. Nothing was wrong with my beliefs about who I was in the world. I just needed a little help moderating my drinking. 

Humility opens the door to freedom. Bill W., Dr. Bob, and the first 100 discovered humility’s portal to peace and alignment that empowers us to live differently. Ego shrinkage allows guidance from a higher power to shine into our thinking and influence how we navigate from minute to minute, as well as how we regard fellow beings. Life seems to change drastically, but what really happens is we gain a compass.

My best thinking and efforts brought me utter misery, but the 12 steps have transformed me into a person I like and respect.

 

Almost every AA meeting opens with a reading of “How it Works.” Perhaps you’ve wondered why everybody sits there while the same words are read, meeting after meeting. The reason for this is two-fold. 1) Time spent in passive listening is as close to meditation as a lot of us are going to get; 2) emphasizing the need for rigorous honesty, the text sets up the 12 steps for spiritual progress, followed by the leak-proof logic of the A, B, Cs: neither we nor any other human can solve our problem, but a higher power can, if we seek it.

Now we arrive at Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of god as we understood god. This means our ego has to abdicate the director’s chair. We have to accept that we’re neither the script writer, nor the director, nor the star of life. We have no clue what’s best for us or others.

WAIT, WAIT!! Our ego insists it DOES knows what’s best for all concerned. I can remember reaching this step and objecting, “I barely have any contact with this god thing! How the heck am I supposed to turn my whole freaking life over to it?” This is where key phrases like “Good Orderly Direction (GOD),” “next right thing,” and “still small voice” come in. So does that great Al-Anon directive, “Don’t just DO something; SIT there!”

Among the greatest tools sobriety has given me is the PAUSE. While pausing, we try to calm down and connect, however faintly, to something beyond our initial impulses. Is ego masquerading as care for others while actually intent on grabbing what we think we need? “Is he not really a self-seeker, even when trying to be kind?”

I can confidently declare that most people, whether addicted to substances or to some other coping mechanism, are so accustomed to living in fear that we’re not even aware fear is driving our choices. Like an emotional tinnitus, fear of losing or not getting Thing X nags at us so constantly, we don’t consciously register it.

Ego is not so much about bragging and grandiosity as it is about “a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity.” We’ve all had some painful stuff go down, and based on that ego projects a hostile world from which I “can wrest satisfaction and happiness… if [I] only manage well.” But if I don’t manage well, fear says, I’m gonna be screwed again.

Here are a couple of fundamental truths that no amount of “wresting” can overcome:

1) We can never know how another person perceives a situation because we haven’t lived their life; 

2) therefore, other people are always gonna do what they’re gonna do for reasons we can’t know.

3) We can choose only what WE think and do.

The 4th Step .

If we refuse to write a 4th step or keep postponing it for no good reason, we clearly have not taken Step 3. Go back to “Rarely” and start over. And if we think there’s no need to write one, we’re withholding from Step 1.

We write a 4th step as grist for a 5th step process which will, with the guidance of a good sponsor, unveil ego in all the choices that have steered our adult lives off-course. The first 2 columns are easy; we get to name all the people and institutions we resent and list all the stuff they’ve done to hurt us or piss us off.

Childhood. One exception to any 4th column inquiry is harm we suffered as children. Our kid selves certainly did not set those “trains of circumstances” in motion; our parents did. The unfortunate fact is, Nature neglected a ‘got your shit together’ prerequisite for eggs and sperm to be viable. No training course exists, no bar exam before any random person can take responsibility for a budding life. Thus, everywhere are wounded people who in turn inflict wounds on their children. “Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it.” (Stephi Wagner)

I didn’t fully understand this until I gave birth myself. Having worked the steps, I did my best to break the chain of family dysfunction. Every time I pushed myself to be extra honest and open and respectful with my boy — rather than trying to seem powerful and confident — I threw light on how my parents couldn’t or wouldn’t do the same for me.

THE COLUMNS. The more honest we can be in our columns, the more growth we’ll harvest from our 5th step. In column 2, we have to get down to what really bothered us, no matter how petty or elusive. In column 3, we have to really FEEL what the situation threatened.

  • Security — our basic sense that we’ll be okay, not just a roof and food, but well-being
  • Self-esteem — how we see ourselves
  • Personal relations — how we think people in our social / professional circles view us
  • Sex relations — how we feel and think others perceive us relative to romance and sex
  • Ambition — who we want to become or what we want to achieve
  • Pocketbook — finances

That last one isn’t on page 65, but I was taught to include it.

I myself (Louisa) created 2 extra columns that sponsees from decades back still tell me opened their eyes more than anything else in the inventory to what was really at stake for them. These ain’t in the Big Book, but they might help you.

Column 3.5 — Name the Diss

In this column, we try to put into words what the person’s actions seem to be saying to us, or what we take them to mean about us. If someone lies to us, not only do they affect almost every category above, but the diss is: “You’re gullible and easily manipulated.” Maybe it’s”You’re stupid,” or maybe “You’re not worthy of my honesty.” If someone interferes with our romantic desires, they might be saying, “I’m hot/ beautiful-handsome/ interesting — and you’re NOT!” Someone who fires you says, “You’re incompetent.” Someone who ghosts in friendship says, “You’re not worth my time.” A big one for me, having grown up in a dysfunctional family, was, “You’re not quite worthy of my love.”

Column 3.5 is the best way I know to get at the core of what hurts. It’s far from accurate regarding the other person’s actual motives; what it’s trying to pinpoint is the voice of ego. As we sense the inaccuracy of the diss, we start to distinguish our higher self from ego — a lifelong process.

A standard 4th Column attempts to turn the tables, to reveal how we were selfish, self-seeking (indirectly manipulative), dishonest, and frightened. It’s the key to liberation.

Again, for my sponsees, I added another column:

Column 4.5 — What The Other Person Should Have Done

Reading this extra column often brings laughter or tears, depending on how much of our ego or genuine heart is invested in our expectations. “They should have seen how awesome I am and hired / fallen in love with / chosen me!” We can laugh about these. But what about “They should have honored our relationship.” In this type of Should Have, we’re often led to an unexpected “Dishonest” notation in the standard 4th Column.

Often, we sensed somewhere in our core that this person lacked the integrity, emotional maturity, or wisdom to do the right thing, and yet we masked our intuition with unrealistic hope. We tried to will them to be who we WISHED they were — but weren’t. And how can we be angry with someone for simply not having qualities that, deep down, they too wish they had? These people just plain aren’t there yet. Maybe they never will be (sick man prayer time). So instead of lasting resentments, they become…

Teachers!

When we experience first-hand the pain inflicted by another’s lack of integrity, emotional maturity, or wisdom, we understand why these qualities are so essential to living an honorable life. We gain a better sense of who we do NOT want to be, and thus a better sense of how to live.

A good sponsor will work with this material in hearing your 5th step, and help you see the truth about yourself — that you are a loving, vulnerable, often frightened child of god who has been unwittingly either sticking their foot into power lawnmowers or letting their foot rest in the wrong people’s lawnmower path, even though you’ve seen they won’t swerve. We learn how to move our feet away from what hurts us and stand tall with our face raised to the sunlight of the spirit.

As for how we hurt others — that’s the grist for Steps 8 & 9.

.

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Filed under AA, Alcoholism, Big Book notes, Recovery, Twelve Steps

Broken Brain vs. Inspiration: Which do I rely on?

Going to AA meetings and working the 12 steps with a sponsor can transform our lives. But in my experience, having taken the 3rd step involves conceding the fallacies of my own “reflex” thoughts on a daily basis. My mind is still set to certain defaults established in childhood or whenever, and those patterns are frequently, though not always, the first inclinations that come to mind.

Yeah, yeah, as I come up on  30 years’ sobriety (on 1/29), the 11th Step promises have mostly come true. That is, “we find that our thinking will, as time passes, be more and more on the plane of inspiration. We come to rely upon it.” But keep in mind that such reliance is possible only because we’ve made a habit of “ask[ing] God for inspiration, an intuitive thought or decision” (86-7).

In Step 3, I acknowledged that my own brain, when detached from god, is busted. Let’s remember where my own best thinking and determination to seek happiness and thrive on my own terms led me again and again: incomprehensible demoralization, deep despair, and suicidal ideation. Drinking was only one of many great ideas my thinking espoused for how to best navigate life. And it’s STILL busted, my brain. What I’ve “come to rely upon” is guidance from a higher power, not my ego-tainted perspective.

So here I am on my beautiful 5 acres in rural Oregon. Everything my angel foretold has come to pass. Somehow, my city house sold in three weeks – for less than I’d wanted, but within 24 hours of the deadline set in my contingency offer. Naïve about closing costs, I found myself many thousands short of the new house price, but my mother’s estate, which had been hung up in probate for over a year, came through 6 hours before I’d have lost the new house.  These are little miracles. In other words, I’m pretty sure I’m where I’m supposed to be, but by none of my own doing — other than moving ahead in faith.

Those of you who’ve moved after age 50 know this shock of not knowing where you are. My mental map of Seattle was incredibly detailed; here, I knew the way from my home to the store, beach, and a few trails.

But that’s where Step 3 comes in. For vague reasons, I felt hesitant to show up at any new AA meetings. I would look them up online, even put them on my calendar with great resolve, but once it got pitch dark out – and I do mean pitch dark – I’d be scared to leave my cozy little house. So I didn’t go to meetings for a month. Not even Zoom ones.

 

 

ISOLATING. That’s what I was doing, with my 2 cute dogs, a fireplace, deer outside the window, and coyotes and raccoons I’d sent packing, while I threw myself into UN-packing, putting off AA always just one more week. By grace, I knew this was my alcoholic brain’s will for me, not god’s direction for growth. Meanwhile, my addiction was rubbing its evil hands together in anticipation of a relapse.

So I did what I could: I called a friend from my old home group and confessed all the above. She made me promise I’d go to an AA meeting the next day, so I promised. Then I broke that promise… because yada, yada. But after she texted me, DID YOU GO?? and I had to sheepishly reply NO, my ego, I suppose, got prodded from the other side. I’m supposed to be all wise and shit, but here I was acting like a backassward chickenshit. So the next week, I set out in utter darkness and sheets of rain, relying solely on my high-beams and GPS to get me somewhere. Eight miles later, I walked into a cozy room with a fireplace, Christmas tree, and cushy chairs filled by six fellow alcoholics.

I was home. I was safe. And before I even spoke a word, I was loved.

I thought, “Of course! Of course! How could I have been so timid, so stupid, so gullible as to isolate for over a month?!” But I also knew: fear had taken me offline. Fear had slid me backward into my own reflexes. Louisa’s broken brain had been telling me that staying home alone was playing it safe.  It was wrong — as always.

Well, those alcoholics had me download an AA app very that night and recommended three more meetings nearby. I started going, meeting more alcoholics, making new friends, being of service, even going out for coffee! My routine now is three AA and one Al-Anon meeting per week, all in person. For my 30th sobriety birthday, a woman I’d never laid eyes on in November is bringing a homemade carrot cake for the celebration, and everyone’s excited for me.

What’s more, these people possess a mosaic of experiences that mirror everything I’m struggling through. They remember being new here, wanting to isolate, feeling baffled by power outages, wells, and septic systems, and many feel shocked to find themselves at various thresholds of old age. Not only have they told me about gym facilities, parks, trails, garden clubs, community email, and less expensive stores, but at every meeting I hear profound insights that allay my fears and enrich my experience of living.

 

Pick one.

Whenever I don’t WANT a new sponsee, don’t WANT to drive someone to a meeting, or chair one, or stay after to break down the room, etc., god’s inspiration reminds me how I didn’t WANT to go to AA in the first place, didn’t WANT to get a sponsor, REALLY didn’t WANT to throughly work steps 4 through 9, or to change “everything” about my approach to living. But going against my own thinking has brought me a joyous life I could never have built myself. Day by day, I can either screw it all up by trusting my defaults, or reach beyond them to continue on this amazing spiritual path toward new adventures.

 

PS: Just for fun…  Deer and coyote from inside my house.

 

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Filed under AA, AA fellowship, Alcoholic relapse, Alcoholics Anonymous, Happiness, Meetings, Recovery, Step 3

Why do Sober Alcoholics Relapse? How can we not?

Recently a visitor to my AA homegoup shared that at 19 years sober, he’d joined coworkers at a business conference and, since cocktails were free and everyone at his table was ordering, decided to have just one. Six long years later, after losing his job, destroying his marriage, impairing his health, and

Sleeping Dragon

Alcoholism only sleeps; 1 drink awakens it

having scrabbled at the brink of sobriety in baffled despair as he fell back again and again into drunkenness, he somehow made it back. Sober again four years as he spoke to us, he’d gained a profound respect for the insanity of alcoholism. 

Why does this happen? How can we avoid it?

I myself have never relapsed since my first AA meeting on January 29, 1995, so I cannot speak directly to the inner experience of deciding to drink. Instead, I asked a friend in my homegroup who knows the cycle well to offer you guys some insights. Here is Clark’s story. He left out the trauma of his childhood with a Vietnam vet step-father, but trust me, there was plenty.

“I got my second DUI in back 1982 when I was 19, but I really didn’t want to be sober. I was court ordered to go to AA, so I gave it a half-hearted try, but I wasn’t willing to follow directions. Both my mom and sister were in the program, but I’m incredibly stubborn. I thought, ‘AA is for weak people.’

“By my late 20s, I was making great money. I had a wife and kids, a lakefront home, a speedboat, a Harley, all sorts of toys — and all of it felt meaningless. I was miserable and wanted to kill myself. Booze had quit working. My cousin and best friend were doing heroin, though, so I thought, I’ll try that! In a way, it saved my life; heroin kept me from killing myself; but it also took my addictions to a new level.

“I’ve never officially counted how many times I’ve relapsed, but I’d guess about 20. Every time I was in pain or something bad happened, I’d run back to AA because deep down I knew that was the solution. But again, I wouldn’t follow directions. In 1986 I found crack cocaine, and it completely destroyed my life. I checked myself into treatment and stayed sober about 3 months, but my wife gave me a hard time about being away from home for meetings.

“The main recurring theme of my relapses has been that I forget. I forget how bad things got, and I remember the good times — ’cause there were good times. In 1990, I’d left my wife, stayed up all night smoking crack with a girl I knew from high school, and to get money for more crack we decided to rob a gas station. After I eventually got caught, I went back to AA to avoid jail time. That time, I stayed sober about 6 months, and it was some of my best sobriety up to that point. I actually got a sponsor and cracked open the [Big] Book. But then I met a girl in AA, we were both new, and we got drunk.

“In 1997, I started selling crack myself, but pretty soon I became my own best customer, and before long I ended up in prison. I got clean with my second wife, until she died at 26 giving birth to our daughter. After that, I didn’t even try to get sober for years. I just had too much pain.

“Still, the cycle kept repeating. One thing about relapse, with me anyway: it starts days before I actually take a drink or drug. My thinking gets bad, I’m frustrated about something, in some kind of pain. I wasn’t good at reaching out to people, so I’d convince myself that THIS TIME, things were going to be different! I’d manage it. I’d control it. I’d keep it to weekends.

“This last time, I had a cocaine-induced heart attack, went to the ER, got shocked back to life 6 times, and stayed in a coma for 2 weeks. My poor sister, who is not religious at all, went to the [low-bottom AA hall] and asked them to pray for me. I came out of the coma, but within 2 weeks I was back to drinking and smoking crack. Right about then I got a pretty sizable inheritance, so I proceeded to smoke it — about $500 worth every day. I wanted another heart attack. Dying, I’d not gone to the light, but to a darkness completely painless, and I wanted that again.

“I’d wake up mornings feeling I absolutely could not stand another day. The book talks about ‘the jumping off point’ when we can’t imagine life with or without alcohol. I saw a choice between getting sober and dying, and I chose dying — because I didn’t think I could get sober. I’d tried so many times and failed. I never left my place except to meet the drug dealer in the driveway or to get cash at 7-11. I wasn’t showering; I wasn’t eating. I was a wreck, utterly isolated and alone.

“But… my sister kept coming over. She has 38 years, and we’d always been close. She had me write a will; she made me write a letter to each of my children to explain why I was dying. I could see the pain in her eyes. And I decided, for her sake, I’d give this thing one more try.

“Thank god, two or three days later, it dawned on me that I’d never given AA a fair shot. There’s that line in ‘How it Works’: Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program… That was me. Every time, I’d do a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I’d grudgingly drag myself to 2 or 3 meetings a week, but I’d never given it the whole deal. And this time, I decided to give it the whole deal. And it’s been the difference of night and day.

“I went to 2 or 3 meetings a day for 16 months. After about 90 days, my brain began to clear, and I decided I was going to pray, I was going to get sponsor, and I was going to work the 12 steps out of the book with him. And I did all those things. I’ve prayed every day since. I can’t point to one of those three things because I think they’re all integral, but my life has changed because of that decision. I’m so grateful for what I have today that I keep doing those three things. People I’d known in AA for over 40 years, they always welcomed me back. Given a choice, I wouldn’t pick me as a friend because I was so slippery. But they were always there for me.

Port Angeles

“Today at 2 years and one month sober, my life is completely different. I just got back from an AA Roundup in Port Angeles, and I loved it! I went to meetings, fellowshipped with friends, went out to dinner, walked on the beach. It’s a blast. I’m still kind of shy about making new friends, but I feel I belong.

“I never had a higher power before, but praying and really listening in meetings to how other people were approaching the higher power thing, that opened the door. I have some decidedly un-Christian views (pro-choice, pro-gay rights, etc.) but I’ve found a liberal church where I’m welcome and we don’t talk about those things. Prayer centers me.

“If someone wants to get well, I would say, ‘Give yourself to AA completely. Do the work laid out in the 12 steps.’ Not in your first week! But you can’t keep putting it off, either — working the steps with a good sponsor to the best of your ability.

“My happiness and equanimity are at a level I’ve never had in my life. Ever! I have so much gratitude. Finally being done, having a life that is manageable, friends who care about me, being able to look at myself in the mirror, not feeling like a piece of shit, sleeping good every night. I have a life today that I never could have imagined. I still go to a meeting every day, sometimes two. I walk my little dog — she loves me. I’ve steered away from relationships so far, but I figure when I’m ready, God will give me one.

“Every day is an amazing journey.” ❤

Me, Sweet Pea, and Clark

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Filed under AA, Addiction, Alcoholic relapse, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, Drug relapse, Recovery

Third Step: Next Right Thing

The first three steps of Alcoholics Anonymous are pure logic:

  • Step 1: “I can’t” (drink in moderation, manage my life, etc.)
  • Step 2: “A higher power can” (restore me to sanity)

Therefore

  • Step 3: “I choose to let it” (by turning my will over to HP)

In Step 2 alone there’s plenty to ruffle our prideful alcoholic feathers, right? Not just the higher power thing, but this insinuation that we’re currently not sane. Hmmph!  For years, maybe decades, we’ve defended our passionate reliance on alcohol by assuring everyone, including ourselves, “I’ve got this!” I can remember thinking, “And even if I don’t quite have it, I’m saner than most people.”

Of course I had no clue how insane I was: I wasn’t SANE enough to! Today, however, I can affirm with perfect certainty that I was bat-shit crazy and had been for years. Confusing self-poisoning with self-care on a daily basis was only the tip of the iceberg.

But then there’s that whole “God” thing. Many newcomers choke on the word, so they never really nail down this crucial foundation of Steps 1-3. Religion’s claimed monopoly on spiritual life is largely to blame. It has bamboozled so many into thinking a higher power must involve religion.

freedom-of-religion-gettyimages-517212696 copyQuite the opposite, in my opinion. As Carl Jung observed, “One of the main functions of organized religion is to protect people against a direct experience of God” (emphasis mine).  Religion miscasts god/HP as an external authority figure, when in fact god is “living” us 24-7, living the trees and grass and little rolly-poly bugs and bunny wabbits. God loves us all sooooo powerfully that we’re animated by it. That wondrously complex arrangement of hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, and trace elements you see in a cold corpse is inexplicably enervated with god’s love to become… YOU!

God speaks within us, not through any text or religious authority. Disagree if you want, but I guarantee you, no religious authority can keep an alcoholic sober! Only we, waking up to god’s guidance through Step 3, can manage that one day at a time. In fact, the more religion has been forced on someone as a child, the more difficult finding god within can be.

duckling-grace2

God at work!

My ex-boyfriend recently drank himself to death with beer — Indian Pale Ale, to be exact. He’d gone through detox and treatment to emerge gung-ho sober, but multiple handicaps blocked him from tapping into a power greater than himself.  A) He’d been raised Catholic; B) he was left-brained to an extreme, having impaired his brain interconnections with binge drinking as a teen; C) he felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable in socializing, also due to B.

A made him keep reverting to seeing HP as an authority figure; B kept him from feeling his connection (8:00) to everything else, and C kept him from hearing or seeing god through his fellow alcoholics.

Below are his last texts to me. Before you laugh at the ‘Subaru’ thing, recall that while sober this man could carry in his mind the full schematics for a Boeing 787. These texts are crippled with drunkenness because… he was less than a week from dying.

Gerard combined texts

You can imagine how often I weep that I didn’t agree to that last call, as I might’ve if I’d not been sitting right next to my Al-Anon sponsor. But in truth, I didn’t want to witness him in that state, slurring his words, awash in vague emotions, making little sense. It was too painful. Besides, I couldn’t have helped him find his HP any more than you could. A week later, on his 60th birthday, he died of a gastric hemorrhage.

“Do the next right thing” was one of those resonant 3rd Step sayings Screen Shot 2024-03-05 at 11.38.13 AMI heard early on in AA. Strangely, “right” did not equate to “most desired.” It steered me away from what I thought would feel good, make me look good, or bring temporary relief, and toward a deeper sense of right and wrong. **

We all carry that sense within. It’s a feeling in our gut. We often have to quiet the chatter of our thoughts before we can make contact with it, but it’s there. Initially, I grasped only few “next right things” like so many flimsy reeds: go to a meeting; stay out of bars; don’t meander toward the store’s booze section or hang out with users.

Today, though, I have a huge, rich bouquet of next right things to choose from every day: practice gratitude; call a friend (instead of texting); exercise/ hike/ do yoga/ walk the doggies someplace new; do service work or donate; tidy or fix something; meditate; notice beauty; be kind, be kind, be kind.

Princess and GoblinOn my favorite sleep podcast, in a book entitled, The Princess and the Goblin, I recently listened to a description of how a child princess, who has discovered her own magical great, great grandmother in a remote tower of the castle, is led by the grandmother’s wisdom even in her absence. When afraid, she’s supposed to put a ring the grandmother gave her under her pillow and feel with her index finger for a gossamer thin thread connecting the two of them. It’s a perfect metaphor for always being connected to our higher power.

But here’s the cool part. The thread at her fingertip doesn’t just lead to the safety of her grandmother. It leads her deep into the goblin mines, into terrifying pitch darkness, across underground streams and through narrow passageways where she’s filled with doubt and urgent desire to turn back but can’t because the thread leads only forward. To her amazement, it leads her to her friend, a courageous boy the goblins have all but buried in a cavern, shows her the way to free him, and guides them both back to daylight and safety. In fear for herself, she’s led to rescue someone else. While boy insists her idea of “grandmother’s thread” is nonsense (right up til the end when he finds it himself), she trusts it beyond her own thinking.

So, I find, goes life after one makes a solid 3rd Step. We are led forward, often scared, but guided to greater outcomes.

I alone can sense where my “god-consciousness” leads. Many don’t understand why I’m about to move away from this city where I was born 63 years ago — to I don’t even know where. I’ll find out soon enough. I trust my thread. It’s just the next right thing.

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** As I describe in my Die-Hard book –> the first two communications I heard from my post-NDE guardian angel, having just driven home horrifically drunk, were: “This is the last time I can help you; you DO know right from wrong!”  Hearing him opened space for what has unfolded as 29 years sober.

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Filed under AA, Alcoholism, living sober, Recovery, Step 3

15-Minute Guided Meditation for Sober Alcoholics

Hi alcoholics and addicts!

AA’s Step 11 reads, “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God,” but many newly sober alcoholics – and people with time – have trouble knowing where to start. I was moved after my morning meditation to record a spontaneous YouTube meditation for this blog, so I did. Such reflections free me from my fears and self-criticisms (see bedevilments, p. 52, Big Book).

Close your eyes and hang out.

This is a shareable (but unlisted) link. Feel free to share it with anyone you think might benefit or post it on recovery pages. Please let me know in the comments if you’d like me to make more.

No hair combing, zero make-up, not trying to look presentable. House jammies and bedhead and reflecting glasses. The focus is inward toward source and outward toward you.

Here’s my sweet Alice a month after being rescued from starvation in the Rio Grande Desert. Her stunted body did catch up with her head and paws a little once she got regular nutrition, and she is often happy. 

Alice after rescue

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Filed under AA, AA talk, Adult Children of Alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alcoholism, living sober, prayer, Recovery, Sobriety, Trauma

Emotional Sobriety – Ever a Work in Progress

Last week at my home group, I noted a difference that sometimes arises in AA. Our group is a tight family. Some have only a few years’ sober, but more of us have 25+. Anyway, the person chairing, having lived sober through 30 years of joys and deaths, boons and losses, chose a meeting topic of authenticity in friendships.

Here’s why. They’d made an off-color joke among a group of friends. One friend went ballistic without bounds, ripping them a whole new ass…assination of character in front of the others. Our chairperson instantly apologized for any pain they’d caused and, reading the room, departed to allow their friend space. But now they felt their trust hurt beyond healing.

Here was their dilemma: their AA sponsor maintained that they’d already cleaned up their side of the street, owed no further amends, and could choose whether to reinvest in the friendship. But another friend, not in AA, said they ought to meet with the explosive friend and tell her how that outburst made them feel.

Which was the right course? How do we navigate our continuing journey of sobriety to keep growing toward what our higher power would have us be — i.e. toward our full potential in emotional sobriety? 

The group picked up the question and ran with it. Everyone had relationship issues — with friends, partners, and relatives — to share about. Almost everyone. The thwarted expectations issue arose when a visitor from out of town spoke up. He said essentially, “I don’t care whether I talk to friends honestly or not! All I care about is whether I take a drink over it. I come to these meetings to learn how not to do that TODAY — not how to dance around in relationships!” keep_the_plug_in_the_jug_yard_sign

He had a few years but, clearly, just not drinking was still a struggle. 

This is an issue. Aside from meetings specifically named BEGINNERS, AA generally takes a one-size fits all approach. Our Singleness of Purpose, clearly outlined in Traditions 3 and 5, runs like this: “The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking” and “Each group has but one primary purpose – to carry its message to the alcoholic who still suffers.” 

But… define “suffers.” 

Plug-in-the-jugging is not enough for a happy life. Rather, most of AA is about ferreting out the defects of character that lead us away from our higher power and toward isolation, resentment, depression, and “a thousand forms of fear” — conditions ripe for the ego and addictive drive. Relationships test the mettle of our recovery. Emotional sobriety comes down to an ability to recognize our character defects and cope with them in constructive ways. Is it more constructive to routinely zip our lips or to show up honestly with our emotions, personalities, and vulnerabilities, sharing who we are à la Brené Brown?

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During the 1980s, John Welwood coined the term “spiritual bypassing” to mean, in simple terms, trying to be so “spiritual” that you ignore whatever emotions you’re feeling. Any negative feelings get dismissed as “attachment.” Welwood was speaking in a Buddhist context, but boysee! Do his words ever apply to AA! For instance, I’ve known people who throw themselves into gobs of service work, go to jillions of meetings per week, and work with dozens of sponsees — all so they won’t have to FEEL the pain nipping constantly at their heels. They try to guilt others into following their path, a stance I like to call “competitive sobriety.” 

In my first 10 years, I used to worship such people, considering them AA sages. In my next 10, I’d get resentful at them, feeling I had to make excuses for NOT doing likewise. But as I wrap up my third decade of sobriety, meetings, and stepwork, my attitude is a mix of compassion and live-and-let-live. I know they have pain that won’t let up, and I understand that this solution helps them. It must help, or they wouldn’t do it. Myself, I’d rather stick my head in a flaming bucket of shit than sit through General Service meetings. It’s terrible, but it’s true. 

So I don’t practice competitive sobriety but, somewhere beneath my own radar, I DO practice spiritual bypassing. I keep my side of the street clean no matter what — whether it makes me become a doormat, tolerate rudeness, or pretend to agree with values I dislike. I look like I’ve achieved emotional sobriety, but it’s a sham — more like emotional constipation. 

What spiritual bypassing boils down to is dishonesty — with myself Mowing-lawn-and-leaving-grass-clippings-9f17741fa7a94a47b5ea58ec6a4ddf87and others — leading to a lack of boundaries. I discover my false tactic only once the pain load reaches such a pitch that I have to take action: “If someone keeps running over your foot with a lawnmower, it’s up to you to move your foot.” That’s one of my favorite sayings, and yet I’ll leave my foot in their path for years! “No, no, it doesn’t hurt much!  It’s just a little blood! Just a toe I wasn’t using! After all, they have a perfect right to mow!”

Screen Shot 2023-06-06 at 11.46.07 AMSpiritual pride tells me I’d be too “unspiritual” if I said what I actually think and feel. Too unspiritual if I showed up as myself. Too petty, judgmental, wave-making, or self-centered in telling others “Here are my feelings” or admitting to myself “This isn’t working.”  In fact, by pretending everything’s fine, I’m harming everyone involved.

Recently, my pain reached such a pitch that I finally moved my foot. I’ve spoken about the situation with my sponsor and a few uninvolved confidants. But for me, it was wonderful that our chair opened up this question of finding the fine line between kindness and authenticity. This is where the rubber meets the road for me today, the area where I’m most uncomfortably growing.

I hope the out-of-town guy could glean that eventually Honesty, Open-mindedness, and Willingness lead us far beyond just not drinking. “Our liquor was but a symptom. So we had to get down to causes and conditions” (How it Works). Turns out, of course, that dislodging each cause reveals a deeper cause beneath: onion layers. Insight by insight, we keep learning how to live a little bit better, until we run out of time.

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Chpt 4, We Agnostics: Short Version

AA Barf ReligionI’m an alcoholic who loves god but kinda wants to kick religion’s ass. I never capitalize “God” in my own writing because that big “G” smacks of scripture. Every time I hear an AA newcomer, potentially dying, say they can’t get over the “religious” aspect of AA, I want to yell toward the ceiling, “Are ya HAPPY, Religion??  See how you’ve fucked up god for BILLIONS of humans?!”

This probably has more to do with me than religion. More often than not I’m sitting in a church basement, after all, kindly rented to an AA group for cheap. Churches do mean well.

The first time I read “We Agnostics,” 28 years ago, I called myself an atheist — despite having had a Near-Death Experience during which I was bathed, for just a short while, in the brilliant intensity of god’s love. That and the paranormal after-effects it brought on were memories slammed away in a DONTTHINKOFIT vault.

Alcoholics can do that.

So I was shocked to find this chapter did open my mind to a higher power, simply by means of its water-tight argument(s).  Here’s my version of how it proceeds — though of course, you should read the original.

We Agnostics…….

  • If you’re a bona fide alcoholic, you have only two choices
    • a) be doomed to an alcoholic death (my note: perhaps slowwwly)
    • b) live on a spiritual basis

Lots of us thought we couldn’t do (b), but we have – so you can, too.

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  • IF we could think our way out of addiction, we’d all be fine. We had tons of moral and ethical resolve, but even when we willed with all our might, we got drunk.  What we lacked was power — a power greater than ourselves.

Guess what this whole book is about?  Finding that power.

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“Let’s go kill anyone who won’t believe in me!!”

  • We know you’re going to bum about this.  We know religion makes you puke.  We know even the word “God” might bring up the shit thrown at you in childhood. We all thought [NEXT PAGE] reliance on God was a crutch for cowards. We thought about all the destruction religion’s caused and all the hypocritical assholes in media and small towns posing as holy. We couldn’t even wrap our brains around a Supreme Being, anyway.  We know, we know… we felt all this, too.
  • AND YET…. sometimes, especially in the beauty of nature or awareness of the vast universe, we felt a fleeting sense of awe. As soon as we could just become willing (or willing to become willing), as soon as we said, “Mayyyybe I can kinda believe in a power greater than me,” shit for reals started to change in our lives.

Don’t think about anybody else’s God. What feels like GOODNESS?  Open to that.  God is basically hanging out by the phone waiting for you to call.

[NEXT PAGE]

  • So, when we say “God” here, just think about whatever works for you (ask why you want to live — it has to do with god).  Don’t let all that negativity stop you from looking deep within.

Ask yourself, “Am I willing (to be willing) to believe there’s something good out there more powerful than me?” If you can say yes… dude, you’re on your way!

We’d aways assumed we’d have to drink major Kool-aid to jump through this hoop, so we were stoked to keep it simple.

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  • Being pissed off about spirituality in general — we had to quit that crap because, let’s face it, we were dying.  Alcohol was thoroughly kicking our asses, so we had to open our minds.  You’re asking, why believe? We’ve got some good reasons.
  • People love evidence-based stuff, but most of us electricityaccept all kinds of explanations we’re clueless about.  We’re like, “Yeah, um, electricity is like electrons jumping from one atom to another.  Totally!”  And we let it go without needing to really understand because we just want to use our goddamn phones and appliances. They work, and that’s good enough.

There’s all kinds of shit like this we believe without proof.  Even science itself holds that appearances don’t mean jack.

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  • Let’s take your average steel girder (I-beam in a sky scraper) It’s really a bunch of electrons whirling around a crazy speeds according to laws of physics (my note: PLUS it’s 99% empty space and the electrons pop in and out of existence with all kinds of quantum weirdness, dark matter, and anti-matter — and WE are way too dumb to understand any of it.)  We’re all like, “Cool, I got it.”

BUT as soon as somebody suggests there’s a guiding, creative force behind the universe, we say, “Hold my beer! Let me use my grapefruit-sized brain to determine the nature of the universe!” If our atheist arguments were right, then life would exist for no reason and mean nothing.  We like to think we’re the smartest game in town.

  • You know, even organized religion isn’t all doo-doo. We’ve all seen religious people we had to respect. In fact, a lot of them have had their shit together WAY more than we ever have.

[NEXT PAGE]

  • We were too busy judging to see the upside. We accused religious people of being intolerant, when we were actually the intolerant ones.
  • If you read the stories in the back of this book, you’ll see how each person found their own higher power their own way. What they have in common is that every single one believes their higher power worked fuckin’ miracles in their lives.

You’ve got thousands (millions) of people who’ve lived hardcore but who swear that since they opened their minds to an HP and started working the 12 steps sincerely, their whole world has flipped from despairing to happy.  [NEXT PAGE]  They tell  about how they were the ones screwing up their own lives, alcohol aside. When all these (millions of) people say God changed them, CAN you really dismiss all of us as feeble minded, gullible, deluded cult members?

  • Progress in science and technology gets hampered when people cling to fixed ideas.  Columbus, Galileo — people said they were nuts.  Aren’t you just as stubborn about spirituality as those guys were about science?

For example, in the Wright Brothers’ day, NOBODY thought humans could fly. EVERYBODY was sure that idea was bullshit — how could heavy, big machines possibly go zoom in the air?  But 30 years later, airplanes were just a normal part of life.

If you showed some average Joe / Joette an article about going to the moon (or now Mars) and they’d say, “I bet they will.” More and more, people can throw away the theory or gadget that doesn’t work in exchange for one that does.

  • Dude — what’re you doin’ clinging to self-sufficiency?  It doesn’t work!  Try the new gadget, for chrissakes.

We were bedevilled by shitty relationships, roller-coaster emotions, misery and depression, money problems; we were scared and unhappy and useless.  Wasn’t fixing our lives by ANY means more important than seeing proof?  Duh!!!

wright_brothers

Orville and Wilber Wright

  • The Wright brothers built a plane that flew after 50 million failed attempts because they BELIEVED in their dream so purely.  Alcoholics who’d rather suffer than try the new thing — they’re just like those cynics who scoffed at the Wright brothers’ naïveté.

[NEXT PAGE]

  • Logic is great. Let’s think about how to have faith is actually more logical than the soft and mushy thinking we settled for in our agnosticism.  As alcoholics, we were dying (or wasting life). We had to get fucking honest: either
    • a) God animates everything, or
    • b) God is nothing.

We HAD to DECIDE.

[Here’s a bunch of corny shit about some bridge that I wish they’d cut.]

  • Come to think of it, we’ve always had faith in our reasoning skills,

    Screen Shot 2023-02-12 at 12.26.21 PM

    Life / god happens.

    even though we’re wrong a lot. We’ve all worshipped cool people, sentimental icons, commercial STUFF, $-money-money-money-$, and our private imaginings of someday being badass.  But at the same time, we’ve all felt reverence for a sunset, for the ocean, for a flower. We’ve all loved someone.  And NONE of these things had jack shit to do with pure reason.  Our lives are made of love and faith and feeling, and would be totally empty without them. We believe in life, and we know, deep down, it has meaning.

[NEXT PAGE] 

  • Just think about all those alcoholics who were trapped wallowing around in their own mess for sooo long, and how they say God showed them a new way to live, and how we liked to privately smirk about it.

We were actually full of shit, because we knew, deep, deep down, that God is. That core knowledge may get obscured, but it’s there, always.  Looking inward, we find a lifesource that loves us, that is part of us.

  • Okee-doke!  That’s all we can do to help!  Time for YOU to get honest — but we know you can do this.

[Here’s a corny story about some minister’s son having a HUGE, DRAMATIC spiritual awakening.]

  • If you just find the humility to let down your guard and honestly ask God to help you, God will show up.  But you’ve gotta ASK.

Ta-dah!  I hope this little Cliff Note session was helpful.  I’m one of those people whose lives have been completely transformed by god. I never thought that could happen. I hope eventually you’ll love this chapter exactly as it stands and help your sponsees understand it, too.

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“Why is Nothing Working? It Must Be Me!”

Have you ever heard this saying around the rooms of AA, “Alone is a dangerous place”?  I got another lesson last night in how true this is.

As someone coming up on 28 years sober, I’m usually in pretty good place.  Those demons of shame, not-enoughness, loneliness, self-pity, envy, awkwardness, self-loathing, and many others that fueled my drinking and nearly killed me — they still live in my head, but their megaphone batteries are weak, and I’ve made friends with most.  When they show up, I try to A) view them as familiar characters and B) invite them to tea, as Buddha invites the demon Mara in the brilliant Buddhist story. In other words, I acknowledge I’ll never be rid of them, but each is a voice from my psyche trying to help me, though their methods are flawed.  The difference between befriending and believing these voices — that’s the key to emotional sobriety. 

Shitty Committee

But last night, no such serenity! I tripped over all their wires, bought all their Brooklyn Bridges, and was, in effect, sucker punched.

What happened? Over Christmas, Alex, who normally makes coffee and sets up the meeting space for my AA homegroup, Salmon Bay, was visiting family on the east coast. I volunteered to cover for him, in addition to my normal “cake person” duties. Maybe 8 years ago I’d been coffee maker here, and in 28 years I’ve made a lotta coffee for a lotta groups, so I was sure I’d be fine.  Alex handed me his key to the church.

coffee brewer

    But WAYYY older

Last night, I got there 45 minutes early, had little trouble unlocking, grabbed the big storage tub from the closet, and fretted a bit about how much coffee to put in. As an avid tea drinker, I had to Google the matter, but everything was “per cup” with nothing about 2.2 liter airpots, and I felt somehow too flustered to do the math.  So… I dumped what looked like a good amount into the filter, placed it in the brewing basket with the airpot below, and hit BREW LEFT.

Nothing happened. 

A light was flashing at the top of the machine: READY TO BREW.  Under that was an ON/OFF switch. I pushed both of these and BREW LEFT for short and long periods. Maybe I should try BREW RIGHT.  I moved everything over and repeated the process. Nothing.  I searched the kitchen walls for instructions, checked the power, whether it was connected to water.  The tea spigot water was warm, but not hot.

Meanwhile, time was ticking away: no coffee, no room set up, just an increasingly freaked out alcoholic.

I called Alex in Virginia where it was past 10:00 PM.  He didn’t answer.  I sent an email to the entire homegroup with the subject line, HELP!  Then I put a large tea kettle on to boil, said f*ck this, and went out to set up the meeting space.  

Something was wrong here, too. We normally have several big round tables off to the left and a U-shape of rectangular plastic tables in front of the secretary/chair table. But the room was filled with 7 round tables, two of them plastic. Why couldn’t I remember those plastic ones?  Where did they go? 

stove burnerI was dragging the wood ones to the left when I smelled smoke. I ran to the kitchen where a dirty burner or drip pan was billowing clouds of smoke that filled the kitchen. I turned on the fan and propped open the church door, but it was bad. While I was in there, just for fun I spent another minute pushing all the goddam buttons on that bratty piece of shit coffee machine.  Nothing.

At this point, I reached a FML peak of frustration. In my 10 years at Salmon Bay, except at the pandemic’s height, there had always been coffee, decaf, and tea at this meeting. Always. Now, for the first time ever, there’d be none. That and the round tables looked all wrong, too crowded.  I hadn’t even begun to set up the U-shape.

WHY couldn’t I DO this???  WHAT the goddam hell was WRONG with me?!  What a ridiculous embarrassment, to be such an incompetent idiot!  What would everyone think, especially that person who always seems to not like me?  

FML

I heard the door.  Phil, our outgoing secretary, came in. He’s still recovering from a near-fatal episode of a kink in his intestines, so quite fragile, but I don’t think I said hi or asked how he was feeling, never mind remembering he had 10 years sober this month. “I can’t figure out the f*cking coffee maker!” — that was my hello. “What’s with the smoke?” was his answer.

Phil went in the kitchen. He said a bunch of things, pushed a bunch of buttons, and then delivered this Earth-shattering pronouncement: “It’s broken.”

I showed Phil the round plastic tables. “They don’t belong here,” he said. “We can fold them up and put them aside.”

The smoke had mostly cleared out by the time people started to show up. Many tried the coffee machine and shrugged.  Someone poured the smoke-producing but boiling kettle water into an airpot, I set out the tea things, and we alcoholics had ourselves a wonderful meeting — complete with birthday cake.

When I got called on, I told the tale above. “I was going crazy until Phil got here, and then all of a sudden, nothing was a big deal anymore. To me, this just shows how much we need each other.  Alone, I can catastrophize anything.  It just takes one person facing the same predicament to make it okay.”

mara

                The demon Mara

Maybe when Alex gets back, he can show me how to slap up that bitch machine to make it work.  Til then, I’m happy with the magic of AA, shared community, and friendships. I’m even grateful for those 30 tormented minutes, because they reminded me how my whole effing life used to feel before the steps showed me what was broken, what useless buttons I kept pushing in life. Those demons and I, not only did we have tea, but we were joined by every tea-sipping member of my homegroup.  

Happy New Year, Alcoholics!  

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PS: It WAS broken!! We could tell because the following week it was A) spotless B) devoid of the filters normally on top.

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AA Banquet Talk: Transformative Steps & My Story

I recorded this on my phone last night — and I’m really glad I did.  Speech / elocution-wise, I learned that I’m too shrill and often speak too fast to be understood, so I can work on toning both those things down.  Content-wise, I hope some of you might get something useful from it. Plans to time myself were technologically foiled, so I was shocked when the moderator held up 10 fingers, and the end is hella rushed. But I guess that’s how it was meant to be.

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Pain Meds IN THE HOUSE!!

A few years ago, my friend Rob, a “purebred” alcoholic sober nearly a decade, injured his elbow and was prescribed Vicodin. In mere weeks he became addicted to opioids and, after a few years, died. Another friend, an engineer with decades of sobriety, likewise hurt his elbow.  He, too, was prescribed pain medicine, left his life to chase street drugs for months, but by the grace of god did not die. 

What we as alcoholic addicts can never forget is that our brains have a haywire switch.  No matter how certain our rational minds are about “not liking pills” or “using only as prescribed,” our addict remains crouched in the back of our minds saying, “Right! You’ve got this!” until the moment it clinches control and says, “Ha!  I’ve got YOU, bitch, and we’re on a run!” I can’t emphasize enough the degree of respect for this demon every alcoholic addict needs.

Last Thursday, a surgeon sliced open my hip crease, popped the ball outta the socket, sawed off the end of that femur, and commenced building me a new hip. That’s a graphic way of saying I underwent an anterior hip replacement. When I came to, I felt wonderful! In fact, I had a moment of intense spiritual clarity — see below — before things got cloudy.

I have no partner, my son’s away at college, my mom is hella old, siblings either distant or dealing with their own ailments. My main “family” is AA, but I have other circles as well.  My friend Keira came to get me 30 minutes after surgery. She’s a chemo nurse, at home in medical settings. When the nurse discharging me noted that, per my request, I’d be prescribed only Tramadol — not Oxycodone — Keira interrupted. To me she said, “Dude, they just sawed through your femur. Get the Oxy. If you don’t need it, you don’t have to take it.”

An hour later in the Safeway the parking lot, my entire thigh was !!!SCREAMING!!! Anger as if someone had … well, just sawed through it. Keira was inside trying to get me the Oxy before the pharmacy took a lunch break. I was doing controlled breathing, shaking like mad, pressing down the panic that wanted to explode as my pain flared higher and higher.

At last Keira opened the driver’s side door. She had the Oxy. Thank god. About 10 minutes later, I could speak again in a normal voice. The pain was managed.

That’s what such drugs are for.

Over the 27 years I’ve been sober, I’ve gotten super comfortable with full-on reality. What used to seem an onslaught of jarring, demanding impressions is now just the flow of what’s happening. I knew this before my surgery. What I didn’t know until the following day was that the converse has also become true: I’m now super UN-comfortable with being fucked up. 

Isn’t that crazy?  What would Pink Floyd, who wrote “Comfortably Numb,” think of that?  Could 34-year-old Louisa, who in 1995 lived for her daily booze and drugs, have even imagined such a mindset?

I was staying with Keira’s family for three nights.  On Day 2, Friday, she invited our friend Sarah over for a card table dinner in the room next to mine.  I was excited!  Both these friends live an hour away from me, so I don’t get to see either as much as I’d like, let alone both together. We three are the Bikini Bitches. We climb glacial mountains and take silly Bikini Bitch photos at the summits, clean, sober, & livin’ large.  That’s us.

I wanted to be fully PRESENT for this little reunion, but I also needed to sit at the table, so I took a Tramadol instead of Oxycodone.  That shit may be one-sixth as strong as Oxy, but it messed me up, hit me like a wave of blur! Sarah showed up and we  all sat down together, but my mind was goofing around on some mayonnaise slip n’ slide. I remember looking at my friends and thinking, I want to BE here! Again and again I struggled to focus, but I couldn’t think of words or keep track of most ideas long enough to speak them.

Every now and then, they’d look at each other. I remember Keira saying with an accepting shrug, “She’s fucked up.”

I wanted OUT of my fucked-upness as badly as I used to want OUT of full-on, clear consciousness.  My friends were there, and I was MISSING it!  But I could do nothing to get my sharpness back. I was half-drowned in stupidity. 

On Day 3, my son surprised me by driving 6 hours across the state, using my shared location to find Keira’s house, and then phoning to say, “Mom, can you look out the window?”  Such a sweet boy!  Sunday, after he’d driven me home, he set up our house so I could live downstairs alone.

He also hid all my meds.

Yup. The Oxy he divvied into stashes — 2 pills, 6 pills, and the rest of the bottle — then found hiding places for them and the Tramadol. I had my ibuprofen and Tylenol. If I needed something stronger, I could call him. My son understands. He grew up around sober friends we’ve since lost to addiction, prescribed or otherwise. He mourns them, and he loves me.

As it turned out, I did need to call him. My stomach rejected the ibuprofen AGAIN and, after I caught my crutch on a gate while letting my chickens out, I stumbled and re-injured my leg, which brought on a 99.5 º fever and heightened pain. “Look in the drone box on my desk,” he told me.  And there were two Oxy, right under my nose!  For two nights, they controlled the pain enough to let me sleep, but I think I’m done now.  I don’t need to ask for more.

What protects me from hunting for those meds is not my will. Addiction’s kryptonite is connection: love, community, and gratitude. An AA friend is coming over today to move my stuff back upstairs. Another will come tomorrow to spot me while I take a (much-needed!!) shower. Neighbors have mastered my chicken routines, gifted me a thermometer, and picked up my new anti-inflammatory meds. My dogs have gone for walks every day — 6 days in a row — with different people. Today they have a play date with the dogs of a former student of mine from 15 years back.

Here is the image I was shown when I first came out of the anesthetic, before my brain came back online to block spiritual knowing.  First, I had to remember what I was doing: I recalled, “Oh, yeah, I’m doing that Louisa business!” Then, on the strip of wall in front of me above a window to the nurses’ station, I saw my life as Louisa. It was a circle at the center of a ring of smaller circles, connected by radiating lines that I understood went two ways. These were all the lives mine touches, all the people connected to me whether remotely or in person. Lean into this, my angel told me. There was more, but I’ll save that for another post. 

I thought, “Wow!  That wall is so awesome!  I’ve got to tell the staff to put some pictures up there for people who maybe don’t have visions!”  Then everything went cloudy, and I don’t remember much.

I’m on a mission here in this Louisa suit to share love and kindness. So are you. But the flipside is, we can give others a chance to do the same.

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