Miles Away from The Happiest Place on Earth

I am an on a three hour flight back home to Winter Haven, Florida, having come up to Michigan Thursday for my oldest nephew’s wedding. The wedding was lovely, the bride was beautiful, and the food and DJ were okay. The weather was beyond cold.

I should be happy.

What I am is tired, hungry, in need of the potty, and pissed off.

Why?

I’m flying into Orlando. As in home of Disney World. As in every kid’s dream destination: The Happiest Place on Earth.

I’m flying Frontier Air today.

First and last time. Period. #WorstAirlineEver

To start out on the right, or rather, the WRONG foot, their website and app are USELESS.

You cannot check-in online. I tried numerous times. Coming and going.
On my phone. On my tablet. On Roy’s laptop. Mobile Site. Desktop Site. App.

Nothing. Bumpkis. Nada.

Okay. Whatever. So I get to the airport, return the rental car, and wait in line. Cost $45 to carry on OR check my bag, so I check. Go through security, which was significantly more stringent in Grand Rapids than in Orlando. Go figure.

Notice ALL the kids and think, “Great… This is not going to be The Flight From Hell AT ALL.”

*SIGH*

Sure enough, not even halfway into the flight, it’s… Actually not as bad as I feared.

Except for the one kid.

Who continues to scream and sob not-stop.

And I mean, I get it. I do. He’s tired, bored, and cranky. He needs a nap. He needs some durn Benadaryl. He needs to just STOP. Besides, this is not an infant. He’s at least three and he should know better.

For the first time in a VERY long time, the thought goes through my head that a dirty martini would make this entire situation more bearable. Just a fleeting thought, but it's there, nonetheless, and I have to acknowledge it and quash it. Because, I don't do that anymore. Period. End of story. Finito.

So. I can’t sleep. I have to pee and the Fasten Seatbelts Sign is on. Again. My eyes hurt and my vision is blurry due to lack of sleep (never can sleep the night before traveling), so I can’t read. I have a movie I can watch, but I don’t think I can enjoy it because of needing to pee.

Did I mention I REALLY need to pee?

So, I’m going to focus a moment on what I have to be grateful for right now.

I am grateful for:

1. My oldest nephew finding lasting love.
2. My wonderful family, including my 80 year old parents
3. My husband who will be waiting for me at the airport in Orlando
4. Mothers who give their children Benadryl before flying (bless you)
5. Adult diapers, one of which I wish I were wearing right now
6. Almost eleven years of sobriety
7. Frontier (at least to my knowledge), has not yet been the subject of an #AirDisasters episode
8. That I type so slow, we now only have 45 minutes left to go before landing

Did you know, takeoff and landing are the most dangerous portions of a flight?

One Sip Away From a Slip

So, interesting. 

I had a comment on an old post just out of the blue. Would not have even known if I didn't check my email,  since I haven't posted here for eons.

The comment was from a fellow sober alcoholic who is contemplating beginning a blog as well.  What follows is most of my responding comment to her: 

Blogging certainly helped me gain a stronger foothold, especially in the earlier days before I had a good foundation IRL. I was blessed to find a group of regular sober bloggers that not only supported me, but called me out on my BS when necessary. Unfortunately, not many of them, or I for that matter, are still very active within the blogosphere. 

How long have you been sober? For me, it's almost eleven years now. It's still hard at times. I still have drinking dreams from which I awake feeling horror, shame, and self-loathing until I realize it's just a dream. Usually, it's a sign that I'm dealing with a lot of stress. I've learned to take it as a warning that I need to confront and work through the issues at hand.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still believe that one day I'll be able to drink "normally" again, although intellectually, I know this is a lie straight from the pit of Hades. 

My point, if indeed I have one, is that this is a disease that never goes away. There is no "cure" for alcoholism. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. Having double digit years of sobriety isn't a badge, but a reminder that no matter how many years one has, like the newbie, we are all just one sip away from a slip. Complacency creeps in and we feel invulnerable, and that's a terrifying place to be.

I have personally seen people who were sober icons with 20+ years under their belts come back to the rooms and whitechip. Not where I ever want to be. I haven't been to a meeting in years, and your commenting on my blog is a huge wakeup call that I'm fooling myself if I believe I can do this alone. None of us can. We may think we're sober alcoholics, but we're just dry drunks, [if we believe that lie].

Blog. It's therapeutic, it keeps you honest and accountable, it's a great place to rage and vent. Just don't substitute it for being involved in a real life community of actual people who are like minded and are also in recovery. Go to meetings and develop a close group of sober confidants.

Don't try to make your spouse or significant other, your church, or non-alcoholic friends or family members your recovery community. They're not, and they cannot fill that role. Having an expectation of them to do so will end up with your feeling disappointed, betrayed, and resentful. Don't shut them out. Just let them be what they're supposed to be. 

Sorry if this sounds like a lecture. I'm writing more to remind myself of what I need to remember, rather than offering unsolicited advice! For all I know, I could well be preaching to the choir! I hope that's the case. I wish you the best in life and in recovery.

So, there it is, folks. Where I am, where I'm not, where I need to be,  and what I need to do to get there.

Are any of my old sober community bloggers still out there? We need each other, and we need to be there for the newbie or the fellow seasoned traveler who happens to stumble upon our journey journals, aka, our blogs. We need to start posting and reading and commenting again. 

I will if you will.

WARNING: Wonderland Ahead

Go read Jeremy's post, Cunning. Baffling. Powerful. NOW!

Wow. Powerful, right?!

And, oh, how I relate...

When I came back from skiing, I stayed overnight at my mother-in-law's in Atlanta. I wanted smooth legs for my honey who was to pick me up in Memphis (sorry, TMI!), so while trying to locate my razor which I'd cleverly stowed inside my ski boot bag, I accidentally cut my finger.  Like all flesh wounds, it bled profusely, so I opened the medicine cabinet to search for a BandAid.

Now, you need to know that Mom never takes ANY medication (barring her required thyroid medication, which she takes religiously and ritualistically), but laying on the shelf was a little paper packet that said "for pain as needed..."

It might as well have said "Drink Me" or "Eat Me."

In an audible voice.

I left the packet on the shelf, untouched, but I knew the pills were were there... waiting.

Taking one or two or three (c'mon - who knows how long they've been in there - they probably have lost all their efficacy by now!) would alter my feelings, take me out of my discomfort, numb my anxiety and put me in an altered state of emotion and experience.

They would take me out of the miserable discomfort of being me.

It was almost as if I was being mocked and set up: "You got through the ski trip; here's your reward... come on, it's JUST PILLS, not alcohol, not your drug of choice."

I had to slam the door shut on the temptation and the voice of my addiction, which was telling me just to nab the packet (it would never be missed, after all) and save it "for later."

I had to take a moment and repeat over and over, while staring into the blank whiteness of the washbasin, "I don't do that anymore."

"I don't DO that anymore!"

"I. DON'T. DO. THAT. ANYMORE!!!"

I don't go through people's medicine cabinets looking for pills.

I don't tell myself pills are okay.

I don't pretend that pills won't take me almost immediately back to my first love, alcohol.

Because they will. Inevitably and inexorably.

And if I ever drink again, I will wreck everything.

I'll destroy myself, my life, and those I love.

I will be out on the street and dead in a matter of months, not years.
That's how bad my alcoholism is.

That's the kind of alcoholic and addict I am.

And I am BOTH.

Maybe my drug of choice, my "main" addiction is alcohol, but anything that controls my emotions, alters my state of consciousness, elevates or deflates my mood will be my undoing.

Thanks, Jeremy, for your amazingly candid and timely post.

You're in my heart.

Care for a tart? (durn, I KNEW I was going to do that!)

Sober Skiing in Snowmass

I DID IT!!

I went snow skiing in Snowmass, Colorado for a week with my former drinking buddies ski chums, and I DID NOT DRINK!!

Even when my ass was falling off.

There were a couple of nervous moments, but I realized even before they occurred that they would be caused by my social anxiety, which USED to be alleviated by drinking, and that it might be tough, but armed with the right tools, I could get through them.

That's pretty much a part of everyday life out in the real world.  I've had to become accustomed to blushing when I can't find my wallet in the checkout line, getting tongue-tied at the bank teller's window, and babbling incoherently when asked if I can be helped by retail store personnel.

Granted, it's better when I'm on Cymbalta, but the anxiety and awkwardness are never totally gone, and I'm never completely at ease in any social setting beyond my immediate family (meaning my husband and my cat). Even my family of origin, all of whom I adore, can be tough to be around, especially all at once.

I know I was stupid and headstrong to do this.  I knowingly put myself in a potentially dangerous situation.

But it was a challenge I felt I needed to face.

And I DID IT!!

So, nah-nah-nah-nu-nu-stick-your-head-in-doo-doo to everyone who was sure I'd fail, and THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart to all who prayed for me and cheered me along the way.

I love you all. M-U-A-H!!

Boundaries

I have a difficult time with boundaries.  For years, I operated as if I had none, and I let myself play the victim to the hilt.  (Poor me, poor me... pour me another drink.)

Today I am aware that I need to have boundaries, and in some areas, I've established some pretty solid ones, but in other areas, I continue to struggle.

I think a lot of my uncertainty and hesitancy stems from not really having a clear perspective on what a healthy balance looks like when it comes to being available, helpful, caring and compassionate versus taking care of myself and not allowing myself to become a doormat.

The newcomer I mentioned previously is quickly becoming a source of irritation, frustration, anger and resentment for me.  She seems to have ZERO boundaries when it comes to asking for help and favors.  And, what I feared regarding my setting an unhealthy precedent by agreeing to go way out of my way to help her this past Saturday seems to be materializing rapidly.

And she has no clue.  I won't go into the details, but yesterday was a complete waste for me due to this woman and her demands, expectations, and complete ignorance of basic human courtesy (e.g., calling someone to tell them you no longer need a ride before they call you while en route to pick you up!).  I'm frustrated and irritated with her, and I'm more frustrated and irritated with myself for feeling helpless and not knowing how to handle this situation.

I don't think this woman is even aware  that she is doing or expecting anything unreasonable.  I don't think it even occurs to her to consider how her expectations, actions, and demands impact others.  She is so wrapped up in what she's going through right now that she cannot entertain awareness of anything else.

I get that.  I have sympathy and compassion for her and for her current emotional, physical, spiritual and mental state.  I realize that especially in the beginning, the focus has to be on self and getting better.  In the beginning, it is a ME program, and it is a selfish program, and it needs to be that way.  I see and feel and hear her desperation, and the fact that right now, it's literally one moment at a time for her, and that just getting to that NEXT moment demands heroic determination and focus, to the exclusion of any outside distractions.

I am truly grateful and happy that she HAS that desperation, that she wants a life of release and freedom so badly that she is willing to go to any lengths get it.  Really, truly, I am.

I can overlook a lot her behavior, her apparent lack of consideration for anyone else, and attribute it to the fact that she is desperate and new.  She also seems to be having some real cognitive and physical problems that I guess may be resulting from withdrawal from alcohol or pills or whatever she was on (hell, it could be crack-cocaine or heroin; I don't know, because she hasn't told me a damn thing!).

Aha.

And now we get to the root of the real issue underneath my frustration and anger.  This newcomer has asked me, without the slightest hesitation or reservation, to turn my life upside down to accommodate her, yet she hasn't shared the FIRST THING about her issues and addiction(s), her emotional state -- her story -- with me.

If you want me to turn my life upside down to accommodate you and your needs, at least trust me enough to open the door a tiny, teensy crack, to allow me to begin to get a glimpse of who your are and how I can help you as you face your fears.  Throw me a bone.  Show me that you want to trust me, even if trust is generally impossible for you right now.  If I see that you want to trust me -- even if you can't trust me or anyone else yet -- chances are, I'll bend over backwards and leap through hoops to help you.

If you refuse to open yourself to me even a tiny bit -- if you continually put up a wall, yet conversely and constantly make demands on my time and energy -- I will shut down.

And, eventually, I will shut you out.  Out of my thoughts, out of my of day, out of my sobriety and my recovery.  Out of my life.

Not out of anger or frustration or irritation, or lack of empathy or sympathy, but out of an instinct for self-preservation.

Because, even after a few years, even after we begin to see that this is a WE program, it still is -- and needs to remain -- a ME program.  If I do not first protect and take care of myself and my sobriety, I really cannot be of help to anyone else.

Where is that balance?

I guess more will be revealed...

"The Time Has Come..."

...the Guru said
"To talk of many things:
Of hats--and shirts--and spam comments--
Of CafePress--and Kings--
And why water cost forty bucks
Just because it's called "Bling."

Seriously, folks; this is not a terribly serious post. I AM frustrated with a certain person posting his unwanted comments, but short of moderating comments, there's little I can do except continue to ignore them. He has his opinions and his agenda, and obviously he thinks any of us who "buy into" the AA Program are unredeemable sinners going straight to hell. Okay, I know I'm giving him way too much attention here, which will undoubtedly throw fuel on his fire, but I personally HAVE a relationship with God, and depend upon Him for my recovery, so I don't know why I've been singled out for this person's crusade. If I DON'T end up where I think I will when I die, I'll be surprised, but at least I'll probably be in a different place than him, so it's all good.

On to the second item. Are you proud of your sobriety? Do you want to declare that you're in recovery to the world? Okay, well in light of the fact that we're Alcoholics ANONYMOUS, probably not. But, to wear to AA meetings or events, or just around the house, there are some pretty cool sober T-Shirts, hats etc. out there online at CafePress. They range from poignant to cute to serious to humorous to shocking; in other words, something for everyone! Here's my personal favorite, which I'd never have the guts to actually wear to a meeting, and here's the one I'm actually going to order!

And, last but not least... in the what will they think of next? category: seriously, people—$40 for a bottle of freakin' water??? Oh, BlingH20 also has some in PLASTIC bottles (no bling) for ONLY $24 a case! Wow -- that's a deal at twice the price!

I don't think so.

Well, at least not yet.

Cycle of Life

My mom called me on Tuesday to tell me me a close friend of hers (and of our family) had died of lung cancer. It was quite a shock; I hadn't even known she was ill.

This lady was my mother's best friend all through high school, and they kept in touch throughout the years since. They both got married while still in high school, and had their first babies within six weeks of each other. When my parents eloped, Faye and her husband were the witnesses at their little civil ceremony, and Faye took the only exisiting snapshots of their nuptials.

When I was growing up, my great-grandfather lived in Fort Meyers, and whenever my family visited him, we'd head over to north Miami to visit Faye and her family for a few days, too. Faye's daughter was six weeks older than me, and even though we saw each other very infrequently, we shared a bond.

I called my mother yesterday to discuss Thanksgiving plans, and she told me that she'd found out that Faye's visitation was scheduled for that evening in the town next to us. I said I'd go and pay my respects.

I went about the day, not really feeling anything one way or the other about Faye's death. As I said, it was a shock, but I hadn't seen her or any of her family for years. My last conversation with her was when she called me to tell me she and her husband would not be able to attend my parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration.

R was watching the news, and I decided to go and drop off my prescriptions at Walgreens, so they'd be ready to pick up when we went out later. I got to the pharmacy and couldn't find the prescriptions. I came home and searched frantically for them, and became convinced that they must have fallen out of my purse and been thrown in the trash and Walgreens.

I had a total meltdown, crying hysterically, and telling myself how stupid and irresponsible and disorganized I was, inwardly seething at R for refusing to get involved in my drama. I was aware that my emotional outburst had nothing to do with the actual circumstances of losing my prescriptions (which of course, I had misplaced and found later), but I couldn't pinpoint what the true cause was.

It wasn't until I saw my friend that I understood that my emotions were grief and fear. Grief for the loss of someone who had impacted my life, and who had been such an important part of my mother's life. Grief for my friend's loss of her mother. Fear of feeling uncomfortable, of not having the right words to say. Fear of the reality of death, and the prospect of losing my own parents. Faye was a year and a half younger than my mother, and she's dead. I still think of my mom as being relatively young (she's only 19 years older than I am), but the fact is she's 70 now. My dad is 70 now. I'm older, and they're older, and death is part of the cycle of life.

I am so thankful that I went last night, and was there for J, my friend. When I walked in, she said, "Do I recognize that face? Is that a face for me?" We hugged and held each other. Even though it had been years since we'd seen one another, that connection was still there. We shared memories and tears and laughter.

I am so grateful for the gift of sobriety, even though it means I have to feel my emotions and deal with them, rather than ignoring and numbing them. When I was drinking, I would not have gone. I would have been overwhelmed with the emotions I couldn't identify and would have wanted to obliterate them immediately. I would have drunk, maybe just a little to calm my nerves at first, but I would have gotten too drunk to go.

Instead, I was able to go and support my friend. Thank you, God.