Wednesday, August 14, 2019
I've had a full day of growth opportunities. It actually started the other day when I was busy telling S what she needed to do. I was telling her all about my ideas for what would make her better. We even got a little snippy with each other about it. I mentioned to a recovery friend that S wasn't really wanting to listen to me when I told her what she should do to fix her problems. My friend listened to me bitch and then asked if I was S. Well, no, obviously I'm not. Well then, she says, why in the world would you think you know what she should do? Have you figured out your shit yet? Have you got this living thing so perfected that you're the expert that can now advise others? Well, no, I say. I just want her to be happy. My friend says well then, leave her be to work on her own issues. Don't you think one of S's problems is that you fucked everything up and she's had to clean up after you for so long? Don't you think something that will help is if you concentrate on you?
Damn! This recovery shit is making me think. It's making me look at myself, at my behavior, at my decision-making skills (or lack thereof). After the conversation with my friend, I text S and tell her I'm sorry for trying to work a program for her, that I realize I can't do that, and I'll try to keep myself on my side of the street. Today, I'm busy telling S that I think she should go to Al Anon. My main reason for encouraging this is because I thought Al Anon was for mostly normal people who have an alcoholic/addict loved one and want to know how to deal with them. I want her to learn how to deal with me. The thing is, though, she needs to figure out for herself what will work for her. She's a very intelligent adult who's perfectly capable of finding her own path. I have my hands full with myself. I'm the one who couldn't figure out how to live day to day without drugs or drinking so perhaps I should just stay in my lane. So, yeah, I'm working on that.
I belong to an American Expats in NZ group on Facebook and today someone posted about how they are worried about being double taxed for their US social security and pension. The poster was being very negative all while people were posting links and info trying to help her out. She finally said she was fed up and was moving back to the US because this all sucked or something like that. Well, it touched a nerve in me so I posted "If you really think you’ll get a better deal in the US then head on out. Seems like you’ve already made that decision no matter what these helpful people are telling you." A few hours later someone posts on my comment: "She's just had some major news that she wasn't expecting. She's worried about her financial stability and is processing while researching. Let's give her a minute." I instantly realize that I've responded to the OP from my own shitty attitude that really had nothing to do with her. Fuck. Now that I realize this I can't let it just sit out there. Fuck. I have to make it right so I post: "You are totally right. I'm in the US right now and I'm up to here with everyone telling me how much better the US is so I'm projecting my own shit and for that I apologize, OP. I hope you get the info you need here to make a sound decision for yourself."
So now I feel pretty good about myself. I've seen where I went wrong and I've made amends. And then someone notices how awesome I am: "That was some good self-reflection there. ???? You were maybe a little harsh on yourself, but it’s refreshing to see someone take feedback and reconsider." I'm feeling chuffed because I've done some good shit today. And then I realize that if I hadn't been an ass in the first place there would have been no need for this entire conversation so I guess I'm not as enlightened as I wanted to be today. I have, however, made progress. A few weeks ago I would have been unable to see my part in this and stewed in my righteous indignation. So yay for less stewing!
Yet another thing that happened today was my sister-in-law posted something on Facebook that involved Jesus and I instantly blocked it out. She posted a meme about a dad who wants to get his kid off his back for a bit so he takes a picture of a world map out of a magazine and rips it into small pieces. He then gives it to the kid and tells him to go put the puzzle back together. The father relaxes on the couch thinking he's now got at least an hour of free time when the kid comes right back in with the map all taped back together. The father is flabbergasted! "How did you do that so fast?" The kid says, "There was a picture of Jesus on the back. I put Him back in and the world just fell into place." Now at my current state of spiritual development, I'm not a fan of Jesus. I'm not a fan of his followers. I'm not a fan of organized religion. So, I write this little story off as more church propaganda and go about my day.
During work I either listen to music or AA speaker tapes. Today I was listening to a speaker who was quite good. He had a lot of good stuff to say, a lot of which I took the time out to make notes about. In the middle of his talk he pulls out this same story only instead of a picture of Jesus on the back, it's just a picture of a person. The kid says "I put the person back together and the whole world fell into place." Now THAT resonated with me. It was only the word Jesus that put me off in the first place. I realized that I've been possibly missing things that I might find enlightening, interesting, helpful because it seems too christian. Don't get me wrong, I have good reason to dislike the church. I've personally been persecuted by some of the most God fearing, bible thumping, hardcore evangelicals out there. I think they're toxic, hateful, damaging people who use their god to beat the rest of us down. I think if they truly had their way anyone with the slightest amount of difference would be executed or locked in cages. My wife and I would have no rights and would, indeed, be criminals. We may even have already been honor murdered by our very own loving families. So, no, I don't have really any respect for them. However, I'm coming to believe that my recovery depends on my ability to have a concept of a higher power. I mean, surely there's something out there more powerful than myself. I can't make the sun rise or fall. I can't make it rain or not. I can't make the seemingly impossible possible. And I have seen these things happen. So there must be something out there. In step two it says that we came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. In step three it says we turned our will and our life over to the care of that higher power. I was a hopeless drug addict and alcoholic. Nothing I did made any difference no matter how much I didn't want to use. It wasn't until I came to believe that there was something in the universe that could help me that I was able to stop. I still don't know what that something is but I know it's there. And I've experienced that when I say something like "Please just help me get through this day without using drugs or drinking" I make it through the day. There are a lot of things that will help me along the way and I need to keep my eyes and my heart open to recognize them when they pass my way.
Being able to reflect on these things and feel grateful for the opportunities feels so good to me right now. In the past, I was so blinded by my own crap that I wasn't grateful for anything. I was a miserable wreck who just wanted to get through each day without being sick. Today, I don't have to live that way anymore. I'm discovering things about myself. I'm seeing how my behavior affects others. I'm having the chance to tell the people I love "I'm sorry. I'll do better." Those things are utterly priceless.
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Last night, an idea came to me. I don't think it came from my own mind as it was just too perfectly formed to come from my imperfect thought process. The discussion was about how sometimes people come to us and at other times they seem to run from us. I remember when I first came out back in 1989. I had met a woman named Tammy and fallen HARD! The mental, emotional, and physical sensations were greater than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life up to that point. In just three months our intensity managed to burn me out and I ran away. I didn't know what to do with all that feeling. It was too much, too soon, too hard. Because the problem was that I was having this deep almost spiritual awakening and I didn't think I could tell anyone. As I said, it was 1989 and being a lesbian was just not something one did at the time. At least not in my experience. Up to then the only gay people I had ever heard about were the "freaks" decent people talked about in hushed whispers or Billy Crystal's character on Soap. I wanted to stand at the top of the mountain and scream my love for this woman but I was stopped by fear, self-loathing, self-doubt, SELF. It was the gossamer prison of my own making. True, society would try to punish me for being deviant but not nearly as much as I punished myself.
I made a geographic change and tried to be the good heterosexual I was supposed to be. I dated a few guys, one of them named Adolph. I carried a knife in my purse because I was afraid of the potential for violence from these men. I kept them at arm's length because I wasn't able to accept them into myself in any way. When I finally made the decision to accept myself, my life changed but it didn't become better. I began to feel comfortable in my own skin but I still didn't feel comfortable in the world. I still felt other.
I had numerous meaningless encounters with women I met in the bar, drunken grasping for something more intimate, more fulfilling. None of them made me whole. None of them made me feel better. None of them provided more than fleeting cold comfort. I was desperate for someone to love me. I was desperate for connection, for belonging, for something I was unable to identify. The only time I felt better was when I drank so I drank with a vengeance. I was working full time for the state at the time making good money but I didn't have two nickels to rub together because I had no idea how to manage my life. I spent money on cigarettes, booze, gas, rent, electricity, and food in that order. When I went to the bar, which was the only place to meet other gay people, and drank that first of many beers I felt better. I suddenly felt free to be myself, to act out, to talk to people, to flirt, to dance, to seduce. It was like armor I put on so that I could walk in the world without being wounded by others but also to contain my insides because they always felt as if they would tumble onto the floor if not held tightly in check.
What I didn't learn until years later was that intense sense of desperation was the reason people ran from me. I chased after them screaming "love me, fulfill me, make me whole" and they hurt themselves getting away from me. I sought out damaged people and tried to fill them, to fix them, but of course I couldn't. It took me a long time to realize that no material person, place, or thing outside myself can make me whole.
Nothing of the world can fill that void inside me, can cover that hole, can make me whole.
Eventually I had to make another geographic move because things were changing around me and my philosphy was, "Leave them before they leave you." I moved to Witchita Falls for three months which was an unmitigated disaster and then back to Austin.That's when I met Star and graduated from chain mail of drinking to the stainless steel armor of drugs.
Which is a story for another time. It's 12:22pm on Sunday afternoon and already approaching 100F so I'm going swimming!
Saturday, August 10, 2019
I hadn't really planned on going to a meeting tonight. Saturdays are usually for getting things done and hanging with the parents. However, a woman from the program texted me to see if I wanted to meet up then go to the DAA meeting. Well, how could I say no? S is in much the same situation as me. She's come back to MF and moved in with her mother to get her shit together. She's got almost two months clean and sober so she's several weeks ahead of me but she's not started writing about anything yet. I'm finding that the writing has become almost my favorite part. When I sit down at night in front of the computer and just put my fingers on the keys, stuff comes out the way it needs to. It's pretty amazing.
Tonight at the meeting someone said something about how they hated the taste of the drugs and alcohol which triggered a memory for me: the way my body would try to reject the pills as I was taking them. Sometimes it was all I could do not to throw up the pills before I'd even managed to get them down my throat. It was almost as if my body knew it was poison and was trying to expel it before it could enter my system. I also have this distinct memory of how nasty the liquid codeine cough medicine tasted. That chemically sweet flavor that's almost grape but not quite. Just thinking of it makes me nauseated.
Another memory that came to mind was from the book What Dreams May Come. In it, a woman has committed suicide after the death of her husband in a car accident. The husband has been happily living in his own version of heaven since he died. He finds out that his wife has killed herself and so goes in search of her. He meets many people along his journey but one in particular sticks out. He meets a woman bound in the fetal position by these big thick chains. At least to her they appear to be chains. To the man, her bonds are nothing more than spider webs. Thin, wispy spider webs that could easily be discarded if only the woman could see but she's so caught up in her own mind and her own ideas that she can't see anything but thick chains. That's how I see myself the last few years. I've been bound up in these thick chains that are actually spider webs and to be free all I had to do was believe that I could be free. I just had to stand up and I was free. It was that leap of faith, though, that was so hard. Once I finally realized it seemed easy but I think it's going to be a conscious decision every day to believe my bonds are nothing. Sometimes they seem so real.
Friday, August 9, 2019
Today the couple I work for was arguing a lot. M came into the first house late and rather than ask what was left to be done he just jumped in and started redoing things R and I had already done. When she pointed this out to him he got all defensive and lashed out. I happened to walk into the middle of their spat and he snapped at me as well. He apologized later but couldn't just apologize. He had to qualify it with excuses, blaming his outburst on a multitude of other things. Then he was throwing things out of the back of the car so he could reorganize everything the way he wanted it. Very much like a fit I've thrown a thousand times. I stood off to the side and played with my phone while he threw his fit. He continued to be pissy for the rest of the day. Several times I found myself taking on his negativity and getting all worked up. I had to take myself into another room, take a few deep breaths, and physically push his shit away from me. I have enough of my own without taking on someone else's.
I'm not sure where my gut-level fear of people arguing came from. My mom never argued with anyone. Perhaps it was Granny and Grandpa arguing. God, they got so vicious with each other! I've never heard people say such horrible things to each other since then. He would mock her weight and appearance because he knew that was her soft spot. She would mock his unemployment and his manhood because that was his soft spot. The two of them and my other set of grandparents were my only married role models as a kid. Most everyone else in the family was divorced. Grandmother and Granddad didn't have the best marriage from an outsider's perspective either. All I ever really saw them do was drink. But now Granny and Grandpa, I saw them fight all the time. It always really upset me too. I'd get mad at Grandpa which must have made him feel bad. I mean, why would I stick up for Granny and not for him? She was always the more loving of the two. I was closer to her so I guess that's why I stuck up for her. Bruce and his second wife were always arguing too. One time, the two of them, myself, and Jim (I think) all went camping. Lee was a big-time drinker. Bruce had this old panel van he called the Blue Goose. Anyway, we were out camping somewhere and Lee got full on, totally shitfaced drunk so Bruce packed us all up and was heading home. During the drive, Lee got upset at me for some reason and tried to throw me out of the van as it tooled down the highway going 70mph. I think it was only Jim's quick thinking that saved me. When we got back to Granny and Grandpa's house, Bruce handcuffed Lee to the inside of that van and left her there all night long. That's the only memory I have of the second wife. I also remember both Jim and Bruce throwing and breaking things when they got mad. It's what I did as well. Just modeled the behavior I was shown.
After the meeting, I went out to dinner with my sponsor and another woman from the program. I'm a bit at a loss about my feelings towards my sponsor. I really like her and would like to be better friends with her but I get the feeling that I make her uncomfortable. She's been there every time I've had a recovery related question or issue but on a personal level I find her a bit standoffish. Now it could just be because she's not a terribly social person or, as was pointed out to me, she may not want to get very close to me because I'm leaving in less than two months. Whatever the issue, I wish we could be closer. Perhaps that will happen in time and perhaps it'll never happen with her. It's out of my control as I can only do what's on my side of the street. I'll continue to call her every day as she suggested and I'll continue to work my steps with her because this really is life and death for me. I cannot afford to get this wrong.
Thursday, August 8, 2019
Today I revisited places I'd been just two weeks ago when I was still using drugs. Two weeks ago, I was so desperate to get high I went to lengths I'm not proud of. Links I can't really talk about in a public forum. Two weeks ago I swallowed a handful of pills just wanting to numb myself, to not feel, to not be sick, to NOT. I only wanted to be submerged in the familiar molasses where I'd been functioning for so many years. Two weeks ago, I was a hopeless drug addict with nothing in my future but sadness, despair, and eventually death.
Today that is not the case. Today I have hope. Today I have a life again. I was submerged underwater unable to see or hear, my limbs moving slowly and heavily, the weight of shame, guilt, regret pulling me deeper still and just like that, the weights were lifted and I popped to the surface. The light is blinding, the sound deafening, the sensations overwhelming but all still so delicious! I feel almost reborn! The last time I got clean and sober I remember being miserable for the first couple of weeks. This time, though, I feel so good. I FEEL! Sometimes I can't stop crying but even that is a welcome change. I have so many memories of literally swallowing my emotions, swallowing that lump in my throat, forcefully pushing the tears back into my body. Today, the emotions flow free, sometimes all at once but still so much better than before.
I discovered today that pretty much everyone who knows me now knows where I'm at right now. My mom has told her close friends and Shannon has told most of our friends as well. I feel pretty ambivalent about it to be honest. Maybe I wouldn't have broadcast it to the world if I'd had my druthers but knowing that others know isn't exactly making me uncomfortable either. The more people that know the less I can get away with. Accountability, honesty, openness are super important especially since I've spent so many years hiding, lying, and dying. It's time to live now in all its messy, scary, wonderful glory!
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
I feel amazing today! Work was good as always. I had some tasks to do that made a difference when done. M&R are happy for me to stay until the end of September. When I got home, after M&B left, I had the house to myself so I went skinny dipping in the pool. It felt wonderful!! Floating along with my submerged half under the cool water and my exposed half tickled with the hot breeze. I've been numb for so long, having sensations again felt weird. But oh so nice! ;) I'm sitting in the living room now with nothing but my robe on. It's good to be alone. I have a 6pm meeting I'll go to so looking forward to that. I found a couple of apps for sober people so we'll see how that turns out. Here's what I shared on the JFT email today:
"Hi all, I'm an addict named Amy. I'm so grateful that I have 10 days clean today. It's been so many years of numbing myself and my feelings that today even aches and pains feel good. I found myself really living in my body today. When I was working I could feel my arms and legs moving, my blood pumping, by lungs breathing. Even the headache I've had pretty much constantly the last 10 days feels okay. It's been so long since I really FELT any physical sensations. I've been so wrapped up in my head and "how am I gonna get high today" that I just ignored everything. I didn't feel emotions, physical sensations, nothing. Today after work, I had the house to myself so I jumped in the pool buck ass naked. It felt amazing! The water was just cold enough to make my skin break out in goose bumps. Because I immediately pop to the surface like a cork I just floated around feeling the cold water on my submerged half and the ovenlike hot breeze on my exposed half. My head was underwater so all I could hear was the gurgling of the pool filter. It's been a long time since I've been able to be in silence. "Silence screams the truth" (P!nk lyric) and I've been avoiding the truth at all costs. But today I was able to enjoy the silence and the stillness and just be in the moment.
I am truly grateful that I've been given this chance to get my life back. I've always pictured that emptiness inside, that void, that hole I've been trying to fill as The Nothing from The Neverending Story. It's a black void of nothingness that consumes everything. I've continued to pour drugs, booze, money, time, love, jobs, relationships, everything into The Nothing and it just..never..stops. I was allowing it to consume everything I held dear. I suddenly had this moment of clarity that I could continue to do what I've been doing and it would never...be...enough. There would never be enough of anything I have that would stop it and it would continue that way until I died. Death was the only outcome. I would continue to be a victim and a perpetrator for the rest of my life hurting everyone around me who loves me until there was no one left and I died alone. I realized that's not how my life is going to go. That's not what I'm here for. That is NOT who I am. That seems to have been the switch that flipped or that spiritual experience everyone's talking about. The miracle seems to finally have happened. Today I have 10 days that have been better than the last 5 years. I'm so grateful I've been able to make it back."
I heard a lot of good things at the meeting I went to. There were 27 people there so a big meeting. One of the women shared her story and she could have been sharing mine. So similar! Afterward there was pizza with family and friends then my nightly call to my sponsor. I'm grateful I found a sponsor who's compassionate, helpful, and willing to be there for me. I'm also super grateful for my California friend who's always there to lend an ear, offer suggestions, be a sounding board, and love me even when I don't feel lovable. I'm going to be a better friend from here on out as well. Okay it's late. Gotta sleep.
I usually prefer to sit. I like to sit and watch TV, sit and read, sit and play on my computer, sit and play computer games. Sitting is my preferred position. This is followed a close second to laying down. Upright and mobile are not in my favourite categories. I also don't much care to leave the house. I have everything I need right here. Why go anywhere else?
Well, for only one of many reasons, staying at home too long makes me a bit squirrely. My mental health is much better served by my getting out and going somewhere, anywhere. Today, I actually wanted to!
Shan has been off work on vacation for the holidays and has stayed home with me for most of them. She's a bit stir crazy too. Today we went to Waiatarua Reserve. It's quite a nice park. It was once a lake but was drained leaving behind wetlands which have an active pukeko population. I didn't see any babies today but maybe next time.
I tried to bag a couple of geocaches but between my sling, my inaccurate gps, and Shan's impatience when I don't find it right away I was not successful. We decided to come back another day when she would walk on her own and I could geocache to my heart's content.
My goal is to journal about a positive experience every day and today it was seeing this lovely park and spending time with my wife.
Something passed across my consciousness on Facebook the other day about how to bring more positive energy into your life. I feel like I've had far more negativity in my internal mental space than positive so I thought "Why not give it a try?" It consists of doing five things every day.
1. Perform one random act of kindness everyday.
2. Be grateful for at least three things.
3. Meditate for at least three minutes.
4. Exercise for at least 15 minutes.
5. Journal about one positive experience from the previous 24 hours.
Today, I decided to begin this journey. I posted on Facebook about three things for which I'm grateful. They are a wonderful wife who made my favourite dinner, two lovely kitty souls who adore us, a family that I love but don't get to see as much as I'd like. Shannon and I went for a walk in Waiatarua Reserve for over an hour. I tried to bag a couple of geocaches but I just couldn't find them. I found a cool app for my phone called Calm that gives you a guided meditation every day. I did that for three minutes. I'm going to journal about something positive as soon as I get done with this. That just leaves a random act of kindness. I'm kinda stumped on that one. I'll have to think about what I can do in the next two hours before the day is over.
For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer. I wanted to have my stories published and read by everyone in the world. I wanted to be rich and famous or at the very least well off and well known. I'm 45 years old now and I haven't done anything with the writing gift I was given. I've got half finished stories and nebulous ideas but little else to show for the ambition I carried around for so long. Ambition without drive is a heart breaking thing. Every day I have ideas. My brain is always going. My imagination is always in overdrive but when it comes to actually writing it, I can't muster the energy or the desire to put a single letter on the page.
The other day, Shannon was telling me yet again that I needed to blog about one thing or another and I told her I just couldn't be bothered. She said, "That's why you'll never be a writer." Ever since, those words have been haunting me, mocking me. "That's why you'll never be a writer."
I've been holding on to this desire since I was in single digits. A writer is the one thing I always wanted to be even as the other ambitions came and went. Is it time to give it up? Is it time to admit that I don't have the drive, the self-motivation, to make it as a writer? The thought leaves me with a feeling of complete and utter loss and at the same time relief. I've been beating myself up for so long because I feel like such a failure. I mean, how difficult is it to turn off the TV and spend a few minutes writing stuff down?
Most of the time I find it difficult to write unless I'm in the right frame of mind. The problem is I can't get in the right frame of mind for anything. I don't want to work. I don't want to write. I don't want to do anything but stare at the TV and zone out. I feel like a spectator in my own life and I just don't know what to do to get myself into a more active role. I feel useless most of the time. I can't summon up much enthusiasm about anything.
I'm not yet ready to give up on my dream. I have hope that one day I'll feel like living again. Maybe I'll never be a writer but then again maybe I will. I'm not ready for it to be over yet though.
My wife spent the last several days making my website beautiful! She found this great CMS that makes uploading pictures a breeze and I finally have a blog directly on my website. She also spent days and days working on my Xenacast website and it looks fantastic too. It's easier for me to upload the mp3 files and put up the episode info too. I'm so impressed with how well she did. Now she's working on her website so we'll have three sites looking pretty.
Thank you my love!
![](http://www.tumblr.com/share/photo?source=https%3A%2F%2Famyboatman.com%2Fstorage%2Fcache%2Fimages%2F000%2F216%2F100-5759-b%2Cmedium_large.1394512096.jpg&caption=%3Cp%3E%3Cstrong%3E%3Ca href="https%3A%2F%2Famyboatman.com%2Fcategories%2Fgeneral-blog%2Fessays%2Fmy-wife-is-awesome%2F" title="My+Wife+is+Awesome%21"%3EMy+Wife+is+Awesome%21%3C/a%3E%3C%2Fstrong%3E%3C%2Fp%3E%3Cp%3EWifely+awesomeness.%3C%2Fp%3E&click_thru=https%3A%2F%2Famyboatman.com%2Fcategories%2Fgeneral-blog%2Fessays%2Fmy-wife-is-awesome%2F){kind=link}