Working Girl?

Took a teller assessment test for a possible job with a bank yesterday and PASSED! Also had a call from HR about an hour ago, but we're playing phone tag right now so haven't actually spoken to her yet today.

I really need a job, and although this may not be THE one, it's definitely attractive, so I can't help being excited.  Have no idea about the pay, but I know they have benefits, reasonable hours, and it's close to home, so with the price of gas these days, that's definitely a factor.  Right now, we need to pay down our debt and replace at least one of our vehicles, so ANYTHING would help, and this is much better than just anything! 

Did I mention I'm excited?!?!

Plus, just passing the test and getting the call is such a boost to my deflated sense of self-worth after submitting so many resumes and applications with absolutely no response, except an automated one acknowledging reception of the submission.

So I'm just a LITTLE excited.

OMG! The HR person just called me back! I'VE GOT AN INTERVIEW SCHEDULED NEXT WEEK!!

Please keep me in your prayers! I know my Higher Power is in this entire situation and has my best interest at heart, so please pray that I will accept His direction and know that if this job isn't the one for me, He will lead me to the one that is.

xoxo

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!)

Surrender

Surrender.

It's a word we use a lot in AA.

Most of the time, I think I've heard it, and certainly understood it, relative to the concept of powerlessness. We admit that we are powerless over alcohol, and then surrender our desire to drink, our desire to have power over the desire to drink, our desire to control our drinking over to God, or at least God or a Higher Power as we understand him (or her or it or them). It's the waving of the white flag (and hence, the white chip) that signals to our peers and to ourselves AND to God, "I give up. You win. Take it."

I think that concept is valid. I could be wrong on a point or two here, or oversimplifying, but overall, that at least has been my understanding of surrender.

Last night my understanding of surrender grew.

A person who is a friend of my husband, but whom I personally dislike, was coming to stay at our house overnight so that R could drive him to the airport early this morning. There are a number of reasons I do not like this person, some reasonable, and some not. I was in a bad mood, depressed and irritable all day, and my mood was growing worse as evening approached.

I thought about drinking. R was going to be gone for over an hour while he went to pick this guy up from where he's been staying. I knew I had a window where I could run to the grocery store and get a bottle of wine. I entertained the idea for about 90 seconds, then decided I'd better hurry up and get dinner going so I could get to the women's meeting at 7:00 PM.

Somehow, I miscalculated the time I needed to cook, and so at 6:53 PM, I was just pulling the pork roast and herb-roasted sweet potatoes from the oven, and seasoning the steamed green beans. I knew I wasn't going to make it to the meeting. I just wanted to sit down on the kitchen floor and sob.

That was a choice I could make. Another would be to storm around, muttering under my breath, slamming doors and drawers and thinking murderous thoughts (because, after all, if it hadn't been for R's friend, WHOM I CAN'T STAND, this wouldn't be happening!!!). Or option number 3: I could pray and ask God to help me to accept this situation, be a gracious hostess, enjoy the delicious meal I'd made, and endeavor to make the evening enjoyable for all of us.

I chose the third option.

It dawned on me then that the reason I had briefly entertained the thought of drinking was up until four months ago, that was the only way I knew how to get through a situation like this. Once I'd had a glass of wine or a shot of vodka, I could calm down, and accept the situation and try to make the best of it. I realized, I DON'T NEED TO DO THAT NOW!!! Instead of drinking, I prayed, I made a conscious choice to turn my will over to God, and I let him direct me in the action I needed to take, and then took that action.

I still don't like R's friend, and I still don't like him staying with us, or even coming around, but I know I now have the tools to handle the awkwardness and discomfort I feel in those situations without drinking or being a bitch, and that's freakin' awesome.