Category Archives: Life Sober

Life on Life’s Terms

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That was the agreement I made when I got sober.  That I would, one day at a time, not drink or drug and that I would do all I could to accept life on life’s terms.  I thought it would be that simple.  I thought that it would be easy.  I was only correct in the first thought.

contentment

Part of the reason my heart is broke, and I’ve said this numerous times, is because I’m currently not self supporting through my own contributions.  Not enough to make a difference. While I know that the economy sucks and that the university where I used to work and where I want to work again just laid off 600 people this week, this is affecting my job confidence, my self esteem.  It is very hard on my heart.  If I don’t have a job that can support me by the end of March I must move back into my parents home.  It’s that simple.  It would be very difficult to do, to put my stuff in storage and move into a small room with a small bed.  But they love me and I love them and what the hell else do you want from life but the reciprocated love of those you love?  And I’ve lived with them before.  It was a very good thing and I know that they could use my help too.

One of the gifts of not working at the moment is that I’m free to just zip over to the folks house for conversation and sometimes a meal.  My father is doing really well these days, a fabulous gift that we didn’t expect.  He asked for help after all these years and between he and my mom they have found a way to regulate his blood sugar that he wasn’t able to do on his own.  The difference is extremely noticeable.   My parents are old.  It’s starting to show.  But they are still vital and vibrant.  And I love visiting them.  Which I did last evening.

Every day I’m going on a long walk.  One mile downhill and one mile uphill.   And I force myself to really pound up that hill until I’m breathing very heavy.  And for the first time in years it feels great.  Really really good.  I used to ski, dance, run, bicycle, walk everywhere, play. And then one day my addiction became so powerful that I stopped those things.  And I gained 50 pounds.  No one ever guesses my weight right because after all those years of being an athlete I still carry myself in a such a way and my muscles are still quite sturdy and heavy that I seem to hide it well.  Some folks tell me to stop loosing weight long before I’m anywhere near the danger zone.  For instance I can weigh 160 and wear a size 10.  I be a solid gal. I carry it well and right now I’m looking particularly fabulous.  And between sizes in pants.  One size hangs on me the other too tight. Working on the tone of my legs and thighs these days.  That will change very soon. It feels really good to be active again and being active helps my mood.  It is another thing I’ve been doing for myself that helps me get through each day. My goal for the last 10 years has been to be in better shape at 50 than at 35.  I turn 50 this coming July.  I quit the drinking, drugging, smoking, cut back on caffeine.  The thing I needed to make part of my life was activity. I try to eat well and don’t binge.  I don’t rule any foods out of my diet, just how much and how often.  I try to be mindful of what I eat.  When I get the anxiety cravings I go get some tea or a piece of rich dark chocolate.  I’m going to make it.

I’ve started going to a noon meeting 1-2 times a week.  I don’t know hardly anyone at these meetings, which is a GOOD thing, because I want to widen my circle a bit.  The other day one of the men in the meeting kept getting caught looking at me too long. He was super attractive.  Oh yes he was. And it did me good to feel noticed and attractive.  And to see that there are many men out there still attractive to me, that can make my heart speed up just a little.  Who knows.  The meetings get me through the day.  But I know that physical attraction is one thing.  To have a meeting of the minds another entirely and far more difficult to find.  That is part of my sadness with M. I believe we had a meeting of the minds. Boy do I miss that. I’m going to make it.

Fridays are my favorite day of the week because I meet my friend R. for lunch and a girl gab and then my home group and then dinner afterwards.  And yeah, I look forward to seeing M. there.  Not so much his GF but his smile when I walk in the room is very nice.  And I have a huge room full of folks who always come talk to me, love me, hug me, and basically show they care.  It is the most important 2 hours of my week in the most important day of my week.

So.  While I do say that my heart is broken, and yes I do still see it laying on the floor, still dusty, it’s much redder and more robust than it was the last time I wrote of this view of my heart.  It’s getting ready to get back into my body.  That time is coming.  Each day I feel a little stronger but every once in a while I have a bad day.  The past 18 months have been a time of great loss.  A best friend who still hasn’t really been replaced entirely, a partner (The Forgiven), four friends not so close and another who was.  The whole job thing, the M. thing…. Goodness I’m not alone. I know so many who have lived through great loss these past two years.  We’re all in it together. I’m going to make it.

And I simply can’t stand judgment any more.  Do I still do it? Of course I do.  I’m human.  But I don’t do it anywhere near the frequency and intensity that I used to.  And I really can’t stand to be around it.  I have to believe in the goodness of others.  And I have to lead by example.  I must.  As my sponsor said to me the other day, taking the high road is very difficult but it’s worth it.

A friend of mine keeps telling me that I spend too much time looking in to myself to see my part.  That I do it too much and too deep, that I’m too hard on myself, and that it worries her.  And it’s starting to get on my nerves.  “The unexamined life is not worth living.” And in my program of recovery this is doubly true.  I must always be aware (beware) of my motives.  My motives in the relationship with M. had their own level of self-centeredness, believe me. I’m working on the tone of my heart these days.

M. and I met recently, in person, and made amends where they were needed, I for mine and he for his.  It was good. We reaffirmed our friendship. He has something that he has to do.  He needs more information. He needs to feel he’s doing the right thing by the relationship that was before me.  I actually admire that.   I still want him in my life.  I still want him in my body. I still want him in my heart.  If the timing ever became good, I’d still go for it. Because he digs down as deeply as I do.  He is very worthy.  The timing simply wasn’t on target. Yet.  If he becomes available and I’m available and we’re both still interested in each other, I wouldn’t think twice.  I’d jump in with both feet again.

I asked my sponsor if my friend was correct.  Did she feel that I examined my life too closely, too deeply? To the detriment of my self?  And my sponsor without hesitation said, absolutely not.  She is impressed with what I come up with when I dig deep.  She admires my program and who I’ve become in these years.  She’s known me from the beginning of my sobriety, she has watched me change over the years. Boy was I a mess. And she thinks that the work I do with myself is worth it all.  I agree with her.  Not once in all these years have I ever found that I dug too deep, that I was too hard on myself.  Not once have I regretted any of it.  I always come out with extremely precious nuggets of self knowledge, self love, and self actualization.  I think I’m an amazing person.  I love myself today.  I love that my need to judge and punish others is leaving me.  It feels permanent.  I believe that I am a very spiritual being who is learning to love, truly love.  And to love despite the fact that I frequently do not get what I want.

I want a job, I want M, I want passionate partnered love, I want to be alive, fully alive.  I want to forgive.  I want to be at peace. I want to give to others.  I want to be friends where others would only hate.

So what if my heart is broken right now. It’s not as broken as it was two weeks ago.  And if it’s broken it means that I’m capable of strong feelings in the other direction too.

The crocus are coming up, tulips showing the tips of their leaves, the forsythia is in full bloom, the robins have returned from their winter homes.

No regrets.  I’ve made it already.

Should I try words?

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Okay, I’ll try.

I’ve lost 20 pounds.  That should just be said first and foremost.  And it isn’t really the best way to loose it. I try to eat. Really. Had pork roast and mashed taters and brocolli and salad at my folks house the other day.  Had Indian food for lunch yesterday, spinach and paneer and butter chicken with rice.  But most of the time I’m simply not hungry.  But I do make myself eat.  The main thing I’ve done is cut down on my portions and stopped eating an entire huge bag of Tim’s Jalapeno Chips in a day or an afternoon or hey, an hour.  Which I’ve been known to do often.

But the truth is I’ve lost my appetite.  And not just for food. I’m walking through it. Acting as if. Some days I’m the sad or the apathetic…

really

sad-cat

And sometimes? I am the angry.

funny-pictures-there-is-no-fluffy

Sometimes this, which is, at least to some, sexy:

jdfinger

But this a pagan blog so perhaps this is more like it:

fyou1

I try to wear a smile but many times it just looks like this:

teeth

So I carry on.  I talk to prospective clients.  They don’t write checks.  The head hunting agency gives me another red herring. I apply for work.  I wish it wasn’t snowing so I could go for a long vigorous walk (because that really helps my mood).  Do what I have to do to get through each day. One day at a time.  But my spark feels a bit hidden of late.

wto

So here’s the deal folks

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I spent 9 months last year hating, just hating, The Forgiven. Did he deserve to have such strong negative emotions flung at him? Yeah, I think so. Was his behavior reprehensible? Absolutely. Was he selfish and self serving and did he disappear when I needed him most? You betcha. The boss I had two years ago deserved it too. BUT…

That hatred and resentment nearly killed me. It soured me. Hardened my heart. Overwhelmed me until I couldn’t get past any wrongs anyone did to me.

I really and truly, very simply, do not want to live like that one moment longer. I still will let myself feel the emotions of disappointment, loss, anger. But as I’ve said here many times, I simply can not afford to pitch my tent there. I can not afford resentments. It will kill me and my heart, after the death of 4 friends this year and the complete and unexpected disappearance of another (she disappeared in early December and no one can find her), the draining of job confidence, the stress of the money situation, I simply can not afford to stay there.

The only BF/lover/partner I never want to see again under any circumstances is the man I divorced in 1984. All other relationships ended in friendship, even if I don’t see any of them any more. Even The Forgiven and I made up and are friendly when we see each other. Some of those men? Well their wives sent me birthday cards and there is a standing invitation to visit the Oregon coast any time I like where one ex lives with his wife (who was his wife before me AND after me, god the tangles).

So last night I walked in to the meeting and I smiled at him and made a face. I did get called on and got as honest as I could. There is no way I get to deal with my stuff in public at her expense. I don’t even get to deal with it in public at HIS expense. After all, I’m sure he has his own version of this. We all have our filters and meetings are not about punching folks in the face. His GF was there, she doesn’t know about us (surely not, she smiled at me, we like each other), I don’t want her to, and I am not going to bite off my nose to spite my face.

But I did share this vision I’ve had for the last few days. That I can see my heart in pieces, laying on the floor, starting to collect a little dust. That it’s tempting to just sweep it up and throw it in the trash. But underneath the cracks and the dust I can see the barest hint of a glow and while I have to look very hard I think there is still a pulse. What is oddest about this vision is that for the first time in my life I’m not picking it up and forcing it all back together with glue and tape. I’m The Observer, just watching it do what it’s doing. At some point I’m sure that it will heal itself and do a better job than glue and tape. But it is strange to be so detached on this level. “Oh look. My heart is broken. Interesting.”

But before you think that TCM broke my heart you need to remember the lost friends, the lost work, the lost security, the lost love that was actually real love. You have to remember the horror of 2008 that was my life. Many of us experienced that in 2008. I know many many people who have dealt with staggering loss.

“Frieda” whose husband had a severe reaction to some meds and was burned, literally, from the inside out, all his organs, and all of his skin. BURNED. Third degree burns. From a medication. He lost his eyelids, the skin of his lips, inside his cheeks. Only now is he off the feeding tube. And what does he do? Blame her. The PTSD is overwhelming her. She is grief striken beyond belief. She can’t work. Her mortgage is astronomical. She has an 11 year old child. She is still sober. She is walking it one day at a time. And then there’s Karen whose husband Terry died a couple weeks ago. She was there too for the first since his death. She couldn’t even speak.

My pain, my suffering really doesn’t come any where near theirs. But it is mine. I get to have it and experience it and heal it. And who comes to comfort me last night after my share about the heart on the floor and the thoughts of suicide and the pain of my losses? Frieda. Of course.

M’s GF left at the break in the meeting to go home. She didn’t stay to finish, she didn’t go out to eat with all of us after wards. Hope things are working for them. But I don’t want the kind of life they seem to want. And that’s good.

M. hung around after the meeting and I felt surprisingly comfortable. I was able to talk to him. And I wanted to let him know that I do actually want to keep being friends. I want to keep that. And when he finally arrived at the restaurant, the only vacant seat was next to me. So I told him. And he said he was glad. So we made up as best as two people can when they are surrounded by people who don’t know that they even saw each other outside those two rooms. I’m glad. And can at least move on in this part of my life. As my friend R. said at lunch yesterday. This will be a blip in the story of my life.

And I? Feel very good about myself. The nerves are gone. Several people came up to me last night and said that I told their story. Which was not about a guy. But about loss and pain and survival and walking through your life one day at a time.

You know, when I had 2.5 years sober I was worse than M. I had an affair with a married man. There was the time I invited a fellow I knew over to my house for dinner the day it snowed and he stayed 3 days. He said he was impotent so I felt safe.  He was a liar. Turned out he was a sexual predator, not sober 10 years but using needles.  And I had thought at the time that I was the one with the power in the relationship.  Learned a lesson there. The internal shame that I felt (because how could I admit to anyone about that 3 day snow weekend because I thought, well, I can’t exactly articulate but my motives were totally selfish suffice it to say) when the cops came and arrested him in a meeting for failing to register as a sex offender I can not begin to tell you.   In many ways, M. is doing much better than I was at the same time in my recovery. Really.  Took me 12 years to have an actual real relationship longer than three months in sobriety.  And I wasn’t able to fix it.  It was truly broken, probably because it was never really whole to begin with.

I have a job to do. How am I to teach anyone how to walk through difficulties with other people, because let’s admit most of our difficulties have to do with other people, if I am resentful, angry, and unforgiving when people act out in ways that, yes, hurt others, but mostly hurt themselves. I would rather show that I am capable of love and tolerance. I would rather show how to heal than harm. If I react to M.’s behavior with behavior that is ugly, what good comes of that? NONE.  And I can show them that when I err, I can make amends asap. For the better.  In this case only me and M. and my sponsor know the truth of this.   Just because folks don’t know doesn’t mean they aren’t affected.  What if I had thrown a fit, raged against him, there in our home group?  What would I show them how to do?  How would that hurt me?  Hurt the GF?  Hurt him? What good comes of that?  So they don’t know the gift I was able to give and receive but it will affect them forever none the less.

So. I show him I can forgive. Maybe he knows that already. There are other things I can show him. I can show him that I am a person of great value and worth, and that I do have some wisdom and while he might not want me the way I want him, he wants what I have.  Sobriety. Recovery. Decency.  Healthy Choices. And perhaps one day he will grow a deeper conscience and make a real amends to me for his part.  And I will do the same for mine.  Perhaps he will want to do what I do to have what I have. Perhaps, just perhaps, the only reason we came together in this lifetime is for me to model for him the behavior that he wants to integrate into himself. That behavior I modeled?  No sex without care of the other, that no one is a “convenience.” And for him to show me that I am still desirable because I really thought I wasn’t.  Maybe, just maybe, this situation will be enough for him to really become willing to change his stripes as he says he wants to.  I believe him.  He’s going to fall down.  He’s going to make mistakes. Just like I do, continue to do.  Because I played a part in this whole thing too you know.  I knew he wanted to slow things down and yet I hugged him too long suspecting what might happen if I did. I said to him that I wasn’t planning on making it easy for him.  I have to apologize specifically for that. I’m sure one day I’ll get the chance.  Welcome to my world, full of chances to do better next time..

Because this girl? Used to have stripes too. And spots and black holes and swastikas.  And there are still a few spots although they aren’t nearly as obvious as they used to be.

Forgiveness? Feels pretty darned good.  I’m not ready to forget, I rarely do that.  But I can forgive.

The good things I got out of this brief affair:

  • The knowledge that at 50 I am still HOT. That men 10 years younger still think so.  That I am NOT past my pull date.
  • That I can keep the core of myself, be true to myself, that I don’t have to be a hater any more.
  • Aren’t those first two good enough? 😉

One last thing. I refuse to say bad things about M. which means that, even though folks mean well in support of me, you are not welcome to do so, not here. He is not scum. He is not a jerk. He is a sick person trying to get well and I must give him the same chances I was given.  Am still given.  No matter what I do the people in my home group at least do not reject me.  When I fall down, when I am in pain, when I lash out, when I implode they give me love.  They model for me what and who I want to be.  M. and I both have our good days and our bad days and I still value him in my life very much.  His friendship, what we can have of it at this point in time is of importance to me.  And it appears mine is to him.  How truly good is that?  If I call him names or call him out or threaten his attempts to do what is right with his GF, well that is not who I want to be. It just isn’t.

I’m going for a walk around the lake with a woman I met at the meeting last night. It will be good to get out of myself, she is in pain too.  A freelance graphics designer who moved here last autumn her work situation is even more desperate than mine.

I have a get together with my High Priestess this afternoon and then she is making me dinner. It’s a good day.

Conflagration imminent

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You guys!  I can tell by the site stats that you are enjoying this almost as much as I am.  You’re killing me over here.  As IF I would do anything to harm those red Spanish clogs, they are my very favorite shoes. I call them Vera.  Not for any man!

I woke up this morning, it was a lovely, dreary, cold morning.  Where is the sun they promised?  Behind all those low lying clouds and the like I suppose but there are no clouds in my life this morning.  Not a one.  I woke up slowly. Again.  I keep meaning to try and get up but things just keep me dawdling in the fine Italian sheets and down that are my bed.  Me and the Mitty.  Who seems particularly happy these days.  She’s cooing like a dove.  Yes, that is her happiest purr, she sounds like a bird. All chirpy and warbly, loud and high-pitched.  A very happy sound. And it’s the first she’s done since we moved in here.  I found myself wondering if my energy was bouncing into her and if she is a reflection of how I feel cuz I be purring.

So I called my parents, we had a lovely talk.  I need to call our good philanthropist friend, evidently he wants to help me through this hard time.  Must get over my nerves about that, so embarrassing to have to do this.  Went to the store to get some coffee filters.  Decided I really wanted to actually see my folks and went over there for a chat which turned into a couple hours and lunch.  Went for a long walk.  Cold as hell outside and my shins were screaming as I went down hill. The up was much better.  Came home, did some stretching, some reading, decided to lay down and woke up at 5p to the sunset hues in my window.  I love my new bedroom window, it has a great view and no windows look in so I just leave the curtains open all day, run around naked, whatever, just stare out and look for birds.

blahblahblah.  Bored yet?

I’m just fucking with you. Was it delicious anticipation for you too? Ha! That was fun.

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A Sad Day

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Now that my phone interview is over, I can allow myself to feel all the feelings that I’m experiencing today.

I received word two hours ago that a very dear friend, Terry, was killed in a car accident last night.  A single car accident. We don’t know more details than that.  He didn’t arrive home last night by a very late hour which was incredibly unusual so his wife, Karen, called a family member who works for Washington State Patrol and they went out looking for him.  And they found him, dead, his car down an embankment.

Terry and Karen were sober for many years.  They met in the program and loved each other very much.  Terry overcame the disease of alcoholism, regained the trust and love of his children, started his own baking business, survived two rounds with prostate cancer. His proudest moment in this life was walking his daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.  A year before that she wouldn’t return any of his letters but she came to trust his sobriety.  He was a man who was secure as a man, he took me into his confidence and was very honest about all the problems that prostate cancer brings. His trust of me and his willingness to forgoe ego and simply get help from as many friends as he could was admirable and brave and it helped me gain trust of men.  He was a very funny man, a loving man, a family man, a Good Man.

Good God, Terry.  I know you are doing well where you are.  It was a good day to die. Your life was a miracle and things were going very well.  You had no unfinished business.  But I don’t think those of us you left behind are going to be all that well for a little while.

May the love of the God and Goddess give us the comfort we need.  May you continue to shine your light upon us even though we might not know it’s you.