Stepping Gingerly Back In

Hello again! I have just started my third class for grad school and, before things heat up and get all hectic on me again, I wanted to check into the blogosphere (is that a corny old-timer colloquialism?).  I have always prided myself on being “current” but I think I’m losing that battle.  Take Twitter, for instance.  I have no idea what the hell that is all about.  What does it all mean?  If I type a hash tag right now, right here and right now, does it go out to Twitter?  Somebody get me my walker and my Doan’s Pills.  I’m having fits just thinking about it.  And what the hell is Instagram?  And Pinterest?  Who can keep up?  I’m officially old and crotchety.

But, thankfully, I’m still sober.  I manage to get to two or occasionally three meetings a week.  I find that the meetings keep the boardroom in my head empty, lights off and locked up.  But a couple weeks ago, the kids were off from school for  a week and I did not get to any meeting.  And guess who came back?  My committee.  The inner dialogue, the mental criticism of others and myself.  The planning and planning and more planning.  Oy vey.  But head went right back down to size when I got back to my meetings. 

I’ve noticed a few bloggers have shut down shop and moved on.  I did the same last spring and then reopened again in the fall, although I also had my other blog Eight Years Later going all summer.  That blog really helped me because I have a really hard time with myself in the summer.  Meetings are sparse,  personal space is limited and I live upstairs in my head.  And my head is a looping B roll of the summer of 1986, living with a group of college friends in a small beach house and parties and summer boyfriends and beer and cigarettes and, and, and…

So to keep it together this summer, I may be squeezing blogging back into my life to keep my head on straight!  It worked well for me last summer to keep me in the day and aware of my true place in time. 

Stepping Aside

Wow!  There are a lot of new sober blogs out there and, of course, there are still the oldies but goodies.  I always loved to blog about my recovery and my missteps and my lessons.  I loved to write about the good and the bad and the ugly things that came up in my life. 

This was never a daily diary.  I never enjoyed blogging about mundane, daily things.  I'm a bit of a sensationalist.  No, I don't embellish, but I don't care to blather on about the gym and the laundry and the cooking and the shopping.  If it didn't involve a lesson learned, I didn't bother bringing it here.  I had an audience in mind.  It was the new girl, out there, struggling to stay sober or wondering if life was ever going to be fun again.  It was someone like I was, or in someways, still am.  Someone who was seeking to get more out of life.

And now, I'm going to step aside for a while.  I'm really into this grad school thing.  It's time consuming and interesting and stimulating and all that.  I worried that stepping aside would disappoint my readers.  But I am seeing so many sober blogs out there and I realize I'm just a small fish in a big pond, and my readers will survive my hiatus.  I may fire this thing up in the future, but in the meantime, I have enjoyed writing this blog but I need to make time for other things.  That's what happens in sobriety. You start doing things again.  You get your life back.  Drunken nights at the bar or at the computer are replaced with constructive activities.  Life gets full again.  Too full.  But it's good because you feel good about you.

Thank you all for reading and I will see you all in the comment section of my fellow bloggers on my blog roll!

xoxox

The Courage To Change The Things I can

Oh my goodness, Hello!  I have been busy, busy, busy.  School started last Thursday and I just finished my last assignment for the week, which was a quiz. So I popped in here to check in and see what's doing.

Ever since I started the process of going back to school, some internal clenched fist has loosened up.  I was feeling so disenfranchised, so trapped, so helpless.  For almost five years, I have felt my hope in a future of financial independence dwindle and dry up.  I feel like I am picking up where I left off years ago and then moving forward.

Let's back up a bit.  I was married in 2001.  At the time, I was working as a technical writer for a software developer.  After we were married, I took some journalism courses and got really into the whole thing.  Since Mr. Sticks was working full time and we were living comfortably, he encouraged me to pursue my dream of becoming a reporter.  My plan was to start out locally and hopefully break into magazines and work my way up.  I had dreams of working for a magazine like Rolling Stone one day.  And I really thought I was that good.  My ego was a little out of whack, but who knows? Maybe after several years at it, I would actually be that good. 

After starting at a local newspaper, I started to think I was kind of a big shot, seeing my name in the byline.  I would go up to my beat, work on gathering facts for my stories and then, maybe I might meet Mr. Sticks after work at the bar.  I would sit amongst him and his friends and hold forth about what was going on and who was up to what.  I would drink and smoke.  I was a hard-boiled reporter, a regular Pete Hamill.  In my mind, that is.  The truth is, I wasn't very good at it.  It was pretty scary.  Some of  the tasks were unpleasant, such as grilling town officials and sometimes having to call them out after a council meeting.  Or knocking on the door of a family member to get a statement regarding his or her loved one's suicide. Or hiding down the street to see if the school officials were parking illegally.  Or if the local pastor was using church funds improperly to build an enormous Lakewood Church type addition on an old historic church.  Or any other thing my suspicious and ever-so-feisty editor wanted me to dig up.  I often found myself at the office at 2am finishing a story.  Other reporters would often still be there when I left.  The neighborhood was sketchy and walking to the car was alarming.

I did bag one celebrity interview.  Jon Bon Jovi had organized a benefit concert for a local charity (he lived locally in my beat).  I covered a couple war protests too, which were interesting.  But I quickly realized that I didn't really like the interactive part of being a reporter. I hated having to ask the difficult questions.  I kind of wanted to be back in my little cubicle writing technical documentation and keeping to myself.  I'm an introvert, after all...

I never did get back to that other job.  I had the boys instead and stayed home with them.  I wrote a couple freelance articles for a home improvement magazine and eventually got my real estate license.  Then I became a daily drinker and my life went down hill.

Up until about 2007 or so, I always had financial hope for the future.  I always believed I would rise from the ashes whenever a career crashed and burned or was abandoned.  But these left five years have been different.  I felt trapped in my circumstances. I felt like I was going to have to keep depending on a man to support me because I couldn't make a decent pay in real estate and I had children with special needs.  The thought of going back to college was too daunting.  But I'm here now and I'm doing this and I am feeling optimistic about the future.  Who knows what may happen? Maybe it won't work out.  But for now, I feel like I am acting on the courage to change the things I can.  It feels great!

Putting Me First

I originally wrote this back in 2011.  I am reposting because I am really tied up with getting things in order for school AND re-reading it was a good reminder for me to take care of me...

Boy, it was almost hard to write that title. Not because I am a patron saint. Not because I am innately altruistic. It's because of my upbringing. It was hammered into my head at an early age that you never put yourself first. People who put themselves first were selfish and being selfish is very, very, very bad.

I think it's human nature. When you are told all of your life to put others first, your resentment festers, your fear of losing your very self builds up, your rebellion kicks in and you end up more selfish and self-centered than ever. Exhibit A: Me!

As a recovering alcoholic, I was told by others successful in recovery to put myself first. For my own survival and sanity. When I first heard this, I was a little taken aback. How decadent. How naughty. It felt like a sin.

But there was a catch, and it was this: the selfishness has to be in the form of self-care. It didn't mean stepping on somebody's head to get an X-Box on Black Friday.

The self-care thing was tough to learn. It meant learning to say no to people and ignoring attempts to book me on round-the-world guilt trips. I was such a pushover for so many years, trying to please everyone. And underneath, I was mountain of molten resentment, ready to blow. Learning self-care is a like opening a pressure-relief valve.

And in the end, we are supposed to take care of ourselves so we can be of service to others. And there's no panic that we are giving too much of ourselves because we've been watching out for ourselves consistently.

Why can't they teach this stuff in elementary school?

School Is Looming Large

Hi All!  This may be a little premature, but I can see a lot less posting in my future, lol.  I am feeling this way because I am doing a workshop in preparation for my starting grad school.  It is designed to show new students around the online class environment and the nature of the work.  Let me tell you, it has been time consuming and it's not even real school yet.  Oy vey.

It's a three day workshop and the first day was simple.  While the kids were at school (which will be when I will be doing my school stuff) I was able to bang out my assignments in about an hour.  So yesterday, Day 2, I started too late in the day, thinking I had this all sewn up.  I was unpleasantly surprised at the amount of work, the amount of researching and searching around.  I was still at it when the kids came home and my deadline is 7:30 my time.  I had to drop my work and do my afterschool routine with them and then I got back on the computer and tried to finish up.  It was insane.  The children gravitate to whatever room I am in and they horse around, ask questions, fight, yell and climb all over me.  As dinner time and 7:30 drew closer, I became unhinged and started panicking.  I had to order everyone to separate rooms and restore order.  I managed to finish in time, but it was damn close. 

This is going to be a nightmare if I don't learn to budget my time properly.  Unfortunately, the blog is going to suffer. 

Another thing that could be on the chopping block are my daytime AA meetings.  This, of course, is a major concern as my meetings are my medicine.  I am going to approach Sticks and tell him that I am going to need to do evening meetings.  Now, of course, I don't need his permission to do this, but it is always better for my serenity to go to meetings without having to worry about anger and resentment waiting for me when I come home.  But I guess I can't have it all, right?  He will just have to learn to deal.

The problem I have with evening meetings is that it takes away from my time with the kids.  They are gone all day and evening has always been "our time."  Unfortunately, there will be less of it because everything is going to have to be moved around to accomodate school.

That's all for now!  Gotta go back to school.  I'm supposed to find a group of tutorials and the instructor has not hyperlinked them nor has he shared with us where they are located.   The search box doesn't help either.  So I'm off to play Where's Waldo...Good times.

From Unusual Right Into Surreal

Last week, I felt like I had unzipped my life and stepped out of it.  It all started when Little Guy came down with a cough on Sunday.  In the past, when Little Guy got sick with any sort of respiratory illness, it was very scary because he would end up in the hospital.  So I took him to the doctor on Monday and he tested positive for the flu.  The other two came down with flu-like symptoms and everyone was put on Tamiflu.

The boys were home from school all week, but it was actually a pretty nice week.  I can't believe I'm saying that because they had the FLU, but with the Tamiflu and catching it early, it wasn't too bad.  We stayed home, watched movies and played video games.  Big Guy 1 has been making little animated "movies" and filming them with his iPod and putting them on YouTube.  Last week, we collaborated on a project.  He had me make several animations, all with an owl theme.  He told me specifically what he wanted.  I made them and he compiled them into a "production," as my little filmmaker calls it.  I actually turned in my final project today!

When he completes the voiceover and sound effects, he will be adding it to YouTube.  Then we will both check obsessively to see how many hits we get on the "film."

I also got to spend some nice, quality time, one-on-one with the other two.  It was nice to not have to worry about work or their homework or getting up for school.  And they didn't really fight that much, either.  They all either hung out quietly in the same room, gazing into the iPad together, or they hung out separately, alone in their rooms. 

I also spent a lot of time on my to-do list for getting registed and enrolled in school.  Most of that is done.

Finally, on Friday night, I decided to go to a meeting.  I chose a new meeting, a 7:30 Open Speaker meeting.  It was at a church a couple towns away.  I was late getting there and when I walked up to the church, the doors were locked.  I could see inside and there were people in there, alright.  I didn't want to knock on the door.  I thought it was curious that the door was locked, but I was thinking, maybe it's a new security measure they're taking at AA meetings.  I turned around and went down the front steps and noticed a door to the lower level was propped open.  I went down there and let myself in and tiptoed up the stairs and down the hall to the meeting.  A woman saw me and removed her purse from the empty chair next to hers and smiled.  I sat down quickly and took a sip from my coffee cup that I brought with me. 

I was struck by the speaker.  It was a nun in a habit.  "Wow," I thought to myself. "A nun!"  And then I remembered that my sponsor always talked about a nun she knows in program.  "I wonder if this is her nun," I said to myself.  She was actually making references to The Bible about the meek inheriting the earth and how if one puts importance on world possessions, that the world will possess him.  Although I liked the message, I squirmed a little in my seat because I couldn't understand how she could be discussing religion at an AA meeting.  I was almost more worried that someone might take offense and speak up or do something unsettling than I was bothered about the religious references. 

I looked over at the table against the wall where there was a spread of cookies and a coffee maker.  "This is an AA meeting, isn't it?"  I asked myself.  I suddenly became aware of the fact that there were mostly seniors in the room, not your typical cross-section of the AA population.  An "Old Timers Meeting?" I wishfully asked myself and looked out of the corner of my eye to see if I could see anyone I recognized.  I was in a different town but I should have been seeing a familiar face or two...

I decided I wasn't in an AA meeting.  Or was I?  She wasn't giving a sermon.  I wasn't at a Mass.  Was I at a Bible Study Group?  No, no, the Intergroup website listed this time, this place for a meeting.  This was just some kind of surreal experience.  The nun kept speaking, the people kept listening and I kept freaking out in my mind that I was not at a meeting, that I was holding a big old coffee cup, that I might as well have been wearing a superhero costume because I was obviously sticking out like a sore thumb!

I finally decided that I was definitely NOT at an AA meeting and that I had to make my escape.  But how? And when?  Then I started thinking, "Hmmm, maybe I'm supposed to be here.  I did like the message in her speech.  Maybe I'm supposed to stay seated, stay put...."

The nun finished speaking and everyone clapped.  The woman next to me leaned over. "That was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said to her.  And then to myself, I said, "What is going on here? Should I get going?"

Another woman stepped up to the podium and said, "Thank you, Sister.  That was beautiful."  She looked out at the audience.  "Alright, now we are going to break into groups and discuss tonight's presentation."

And I was out of my seat and out of the room like a gazelle.

I told my sponsor about it the next day and she, of course, laughed and laughed.  I had gone to the wrong church, as it turns out.

"I've heard worse," she said.  She then proceeded to tell me of all of the different stories of people she knew thinking they were walking into an AA meeting, only to be walking into a Rotary Club meeting or a Holy Name Society meeting, or, as one poor soul experienced, a lamaze class!

What To Do?

Last Saturday night, Mr. Sticks reunited with his old band, a group of guys with whom he went to high school, to play a benefit for Hurricane Sandy.  I used to love going to see this band.  They just play covers and it's all music I grew up with.  It was always fun to see everyone and see what's doin.'  These are people I hung out with for years. 

The guys in the band all got married around the same time and had kids and things sort of fizzled out.  An occasional appearance here and there was about it.  I decided I wanted to go to the benefit because they play so rarely and I started dredging up fond memories. 

I lined up a babysitter a week in advance.  The night of the benefit, I changed my mind and didn't want to go anymore.  I decided I didn't feel like catching up with everyone.  I realized I didn't really care to find out "what was doin."  I didn't want to be standing in the crowd with a bunch of people hanging on each other and drinking and singing with the band. 
So when the babysitter showed up, I went out to a speaker meeting.

I've given this a lot of thought.  Am I turning into an old fart?  No, it's not that.  Am I anti-social?  A little bit, but I've always been.  I like being around people, but they can exhaust me after a while.  (The alcohol helped with that).  Am I no longer an avid people-watcher?  Hmmm, maybe less than before.  Do I now hate live music?  No way!  Am I afraid I'm going to drink?  I want to say NO because I have no urge to drink.  I know it's no longer an option for me...

But here's the thing.  I've become more discerning about where and when I'm going to be around drinking.  I started thinking earlier on Saturday, "What am I doing?  Why am I going to this thing?  It's going to be crowded.  People are going to be drunk.  I'm going to have to try to hear people talking to me over the loud music and I'm going to have to lean in toward them to hear and be heard.  None of my close friends are going to this thing.  It's going to be a night of superficial glad-handing.  I was getting exhausted just thinking about it.

So I was temporarily torn between my expectations of how it could be (good music, reliving good old times) and my expectations of how it might actually be, which was too loud and too crowded.  Drunk, I could tolerate that.  Sober, uh, no.

So I decided not to go.  It wasn't for me.  I wrote it off, telling myself, "If they play an outdoor party this summer or a patio bar this summer, I'm there."

Discerning is good.  I don't need to get greedy.  I don't need to be constantly be in the thick of things all of the time.  Hey, I'm a little obscure now.

And off I went to a Saturday night speaker meeting.