Prayers (Please!)

Everything pretty much the same here.

Had a few good days after seeing the doctor and getting on new meds, but today, I'm back to where I was. 

Supposed to follow up with her tomorrow, and probably will, given that I'm barely holding back the tears at work.

Either that, or I'm sarcastic and sniping at my coworkers.

So much easier to be angry instead of sad, but that just hurts everyone around me.

It's enough that I hurt, that I'm miserable; don't need to make everyone feel the same way.

(Damn, that's mature!)

Also, much easier to write than to carry out in my actions.

*SIGH*

I just want this to stop.

I want to stop feeling like crap. Is that too much to ask?

I honestly have not felt this blue since going through menopause and we all know where that got me (although, it did also get me into recovery for my alcoholism).

I don't want to go back to self-medicating, although it's really tempting.  Not with drinking, but with pills.  Somehow, I'm able to convince myself at times that if I start abusing pills, it's not the same as relapsing by picking up a drink, and I know the truth is that it IS the same, that I'd have to white-chip all over again.

Gollygeewhiz, I could use a Xanax or an Ambien or a Valium right now.

Poor me... poor me... pour me a...

Yeah.

So not a good idea!

So, I will put my big-girl panties on tomorrow.

I will shower, put on make-up and a fake smile and phony cheerful attitude and to to work on time and grit my teeth until the end of the day when I can go to the doctor and find out what the heck is going on and hopefully get things straightened out.

Prayers, please.

Seriously, I really need them right now.

I need all the help I can get right now; this is certainly bigger than I am.

But not bigger than my Higher Power, not bigger than my God.  So...

I can't.

He can.

I think I'll let Him.

Heartsick

Still wide awake and so sad.

It's 12:52 AM and I have to get up at 5:30AM.

For work.

To get ready to go to a job that I'm beginning to hate.

A job that saps my self-esteem and confidence.

A job that makes me doubt myself, and makes me feel that I am worthless.

I'm seriously thinking of calling in sick.

After all, I'm sick at heart, sick in the bottom of my soul.

So, it wouldn't really be a lie.

But, that would just exacerbate my boss's frustrations and doubts with me.

But, how can I go in, knowing that he thinks I'm an incompetent idiot who will never learn anything, or change what I'm doing wrong?

Worse still, the one person I thought was my friend has gone behind my back and given him a list of complaints about me and my "performance."

Like she's perfect.

Like she doesn't make the exact same mistakes.

My eyes won't stop tearing, and I can't see to write more.

I hope things look better in the morning.

Kill Me Now. Please.

This is the first day in a long while that I've seriously wanted a drink.

Needed a drink.

Needed to just numb out and not feel.

I didn't drink... but I wanted to.

I'm glad I didn't drink, but I'm scared.

I'm almost 7 years sober now, and I've heard that the 7 year mark seems to be a danger point for some obscure reason.

All I know is I had one of the worst days at work that I've had in at least a year.  It ended with my sobbing so hard in the parking lot at the end of the day that at first, I could not even get into my car.

Huge, racking sobs.

The kind that terminate in hiccups and shuddering breaths, hours after the initial episode.

The kind that suddenly and inexplicably begin again while watching Real Housewives. Or some sappy, obviously manipulative tear-jerking commercial on TV.

I'm doubting my intelligence, my abilities, my personality traits, my maturity level, and even my reason for being on this planet.

Do I seriously not have the capability to perform a job that anyone with a high school diploma or GED (not judging) can do?

I'll obviously never get promoted.

Demoted or fired is more like it.

Another year on a "final warning." Fun times.

I don't know how to fix this.

How to fix ME.

I do know that a drink won't fix it. Or me.

But, sometimes I sure do wish I could have one.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Haven't blogged in soooo long, and darn it, I MISS it.  I'm a sporadic journaler, a sometime tweeter and a fickle facebooker, but I've been blogging off and on for over 6 years now, and it is the one thing, the one PLACE to which I always return, at least to visit for a while.

As I've said before, this is the one place where I feel free to be me, to express all the joy, all the pain, all the beauty, all the ugliness that is part of who I am, or have been, or am becoming.  It's not always neat and pretty or easy to understand or slog through, and I need a place where it's safe to put it all out there without fear of reprisal or judgment.

This has been and continues to be that place.

Even if no one ever reads what I write, or comments on it, this is a place where I return, maybe not as often as I once did, but the chronicle of my journey is HERE.

The good, the bad, the ugly.

The days when I had sunk so low into depression, self-loathing and despair that I could not face the thought of going on at all.  The days before I got sober, when I so desperately WANTED to be sober, but also desperately FEARED what going through life unfiltered by the blissful numbing of alcohol would mean.

That first year, when every DAY I feared I would not make it to the magic 12-month mark.

The days since then as I have grown increasingly confident, and increasingly nonchalant and complacent, taking my sobriety for granted, which I know is a scary place to be...

This is my place of real.  My place of transparency and honesty.


I've toyed with the idea of deleting this blog, of starting a new blog where everyone in "real life" knows it's me, and I'm okay with that, but that's the whole point of blogging anonymously or at least pseudonymously, isn't it?

If everyone KNOWS it's me, how free am I to really BE me?

Omigosh.  That's some deep shi.... stuff.  I think I just blew my own mind.

OK. Later.

Or, rather SOONER than later.

We Will Not Regret the Past...But Can I Have a Do-Over?

*SIGH*

Just discovered something you should NEVER do on Facebook.

Search for your ex.

Especially "the one that got away."

You know.

The one relationship you really blew.

That if you had a chance to do over, knowing what you know now, you'd jump into that DeLorean without looking back.

He's handsome. Successful. Married to a gorgeous wife with 2 gorgeous kids.

That could have been my life... SHOULD have been my life... if only...

If only I hadn't cheated on him.

If only I hadn't been going through a major depressive episode during a good part of our relationship.

If only I hadn't told him about all the other guys before him, because that's when he really was shattered and the relationship was doomed.

Shoulda. Coulda. Woulda.

The past is the past.

The present is now.

The future is to be... what I choose to make it.

Would my life have been different if I hadn't screwed up that relationship? Would it have been better?

I don't know.

No one knows, and it's not important.

To think that way is dangerous and delusional.

The "if onlys" only lead to regret, resentment and discontentment.

So, I will leave the past behind. I will not regret it or shut the door on it, but I will leave it in the past.

The present is now. I can choose to find the beauty and joy this moment holds, or I can choose to be miserable and to wallow in the mire of inertia.

The future is to come. I can help shape my destiny by the choices I make today. I can set goals and take action to attain them. I can realize that no matter how miserable or regrettable my past may seem, it is filled with experiences I have learned from, that have shaped me, made me stronger.

So... I can choose to search out old loves on Facebook and wistfully dream of the life I MIGHT have had...

...OR, I can celebrate the present in which I'm married to a man I love and respect, who stood by me through the worst days and years of both our lives, and I can honor him and what we have and stop searching for who and what might have been.

Sounds like a no-brainer to me!

A Good Day

My 4.90 Kickbutt Miles Pathway to Peace

Today was a good day. 

I ran 4.90 miles.

It was hard.

It was hot.

I felt like puking.

But I DID IT!

Then, I went to evening church, followed by an evening meeting.

Came home, ate supper, and have been watching DVRed shows, Tweeting, and Facebooking.

And now Blogging!

I'm also doing laundry.

Oh, and we've had free HBO and CineMax all weekend!

Like I said...

...A Good Day.

A REALLY good day! :)

Running To Nowhere

I'm tired. Slept until 3:30 PM. I know it's part depression, part exhaustion, too much running, not enough healing in between workouts, etc.

When I awoke, I had a voice message from the HR person of the company I've now interviewed with twice for different positions. She said they had just posted another 30 hour position and I should apply for it right away.

Really?

So I can go through all the stress of the application process itself, having to explain in detail my 2 DUIs, the last of which occurred 20 years ago (oh, yes; they ask and tell you not to leave anything out!), then wait to hear if I get an interview, and then go through the stress of the interview itself, followed by the interminable waiting afterward until I hear (or don't) that they've hired someone else for it?

I'm tired and depressed. I know I should call the HR person before 5 PM and thank her effusively for the information and opportunity.

But I'm exhausted emotionally and physically.  My meds have run out and I don't have a refill, and haven't found a shrink here yet (laziness and inertia again) to get a new script for my antidepressants. I'm out of cigarettes, and I don't know if I have enough strength mentally and/or physically to go for an endorphin producing run.

I feel like I'm on a hamster wheel.

And I just want them to stop the damn thing so I can get off it.

Happy BirthdAAy To ME!

My, my... how time flies! Today is my 4th Sober Birthday. Yep, I'm FOUR YEARS SOBER TODAY!!

Yay me.

It's been a quiet, good day.

Hubby and I celebrated with Belgian waffles, real maple syrup and butter, and Harney's White Peach Tea. YUM!

Went to church this evening, so I missed the evening meeting and haven't had any cake.

Yet.

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

Cooking with Whine

I made Chicken Divan the other night.  I haven't made it in FOREVER, and definitely not since I got sober.  However, I needed to come up with a dish that could be frozen for a family with a new baby, and that's always been my old standby in situations like this.

So, I went to Kroger and shopped for all the ingredients.

Now, you need to understand that in the past, I've always used white wine or sherry in the sauce.  Not wanting to purchase the "real" thing, I purchased a small bottle of white cooking wine.  You're only supposed to use 3 tablespoons in the sauce, or 5 1/2, since I was increasing the recipe by half.  I put in the amount called for, and all you could taste was butter and plain flour. Yuck! So, I continued adding and adding more cooking wine, and it still turned out very disappointing.  My husband liked it okay, but I knew it wasn't nearly as good as what I used to make with real wine or sherry.

So, this is my dilemma: I love to cook, and in the past cooked a lot, and a lot of my favorite and most popular recipes called for wine.  I don't want to use "real" wine now, because, quite frankly, I think it's still too much of a temptation for me to have open in the house.  But, how do I cook and get the same quality of taste from recipes calling for wine when I can't, or won't, use it?

Any advice from other alkies would be greatly appreciated.  Meanwhile, I guess I just need to suck it up and quit whining.

Too Pooped To Post

It's Saturday and I'm pooped. This week has been a whirlwind of activity. Nothing major. Just stuff I'm not used to doing anymore.

On Monday, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, or more precisely, from one end to another. My sister and her family arrived late that evening and left in the wee hours of the morning on Wednesday. Fun, but tiring. I cooked, cooked and cooked some more. My sis was a lot of help, but I had zero alone time while they were here, and I need an hour or two in the day just to reflect, refresh and recuperate.

On Thursday, my pastor called me to ask me to prepare a meal for a couple in our small group who have just been blessed with the arrival of their first baby.

So I shopped and cooked and baked and froze.  And cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom, including removing the knobs on the stove and scouring the stove top and wiping the floor down again.

And I'm exhausted. Wiped out. Pooped.

I used to be SOOOO Martha Stewart. Not anymore. Wonder where that went, and when??

Now it's Saturday and I just want to sleep, catch up on Cupcake Wars and Criminal Minds and sleep some more.

And, I ask you, Martha: What's wrong with that?

I'm Not Lovin' It

I am in a bog of quicksand, known as Resume Hell, and sinking fast.

I have to find a job. My hubby is constantly stressed out because of all the debt we've amassed, and eventually, we want to buy a house.

Plus, he's going to be traveling a lot with his job come spring.

So, I need to start working again, both for financial reasons and to put some structure into my everyday life.

I have no problem with that part.

I know I can DO almost any job that interests me or I'm qualified for.

It's GETTING the job, or actually getting the interview that's tough.

I've been trying to update and rewrite this durn thing for 3 days now.

Which format to go with?

Functional? Chronological? Hybrid?

*SIGH*

For almost my entire adult life, any time I've wanted or needed a job, I've gotten that initial intro through word of mouth, a friend of a friend -- that sort of thing.

So, this is really hard. I have to present myself and my history and my accomplishments in a way that will make someone want to consider an almost-54 year old woman for a job.

Who would want ME? I'm too old, I don't have the right experience, and I've never really accomplished anything of significance in my entire life.

I'm a washed-up loser, a hack, a has-been.

Maybe McDonald's is hiring.

Under The Weather

My honey and me are both sick.

Chest congestion, nasty coughs, and now upper respiratory symptoms as well.

I think I got it on the airplane from Denver to Atlanta, but truth be told, I could have been exposed in any number of ways at any point in my time away skiing.

Since I came down with it first, I'm actually feeling a little better than my PBH (Precious Baby Husband, if you must know must know -- ooh, did you just throw up in your mouth?), I am trying to take care of him and dote on him, make him comfortable, and generally fuss over him.

The odd thing is, this is the first time I can remember maybe ever actually wanting to do this because I love and cherish him.

In the past, I did it grudgingly, muttering under my breath, and building a growing sense of anger and resentment.

Why? Who knows.

I was angry and resentful about everything back then.  I felt that life was generally unfair, and in addition, that I'd been dealt the most pathetic hand in history, that I'd drawn the shortest straw since the dawn of woman. I hated my life and resented and hated my husband for not allowing me to develop into whatever my full potential was meant to be.

Not that I had a clue what that was or looked like.

It was just so much easier to blame someone else, someone close to me -- someone I love, someone I had committed to spending the rest of my life with -- for all my unhappiness and my failure to accomplish anything or to achieve any sense of purpose and meaning in my life.

Ya know what? I still don't know what my purpose, my destiny -- whatever you want to call it -- in life is.

The difference is that today, I don't obsess as much over it.

I've learned over the past 3 and 3/4 years that I may not see the big picture right now -- maybe NEVER -- but that's okay.

More will be revealed.

My responsibility is to be focused, alive, and aware of the cues and of what is going on around me right now, in the present moment.  To respond to that and to do my best to live in a way that reflects my relationship with my Higher Power, and the love the he has for me, and that he wants me to share with those around me.

So, perhaps it's that Love that's motivating me right now to be kind, compassionate, caring, tender and loving toward my husband, to nurse and nurture him while he's weak and vulnerable, to do whatever I can to help him heal and regain his health and strength quickly.

Whatever the reason, the motivation is, I like it.  I like the change.  I like the serenity that comes with it.

And I like me better, too.

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!!

New Years Eve News

Hey, y'all.  Haven't updated for a while, and just need to catch my breath a bit and say "Hello, I'm still here!"

Don't know why that's so important, except I guess having this blog that no one reads is at least a way to keep myself real and accountable in some way.

Christmas was OK.  Not great, but OK.  Went to my mom's in NC.  She seemed ready for everyone to leave by the day after Christmas.  We'd gotten there late Christmas Eve, so I drove down to Charlotte Monday, dropped hubby at the airport (he flew down to Fort Lauderdale to sail our Arlberg 30 around to Fort Myers to leave in dry dock since we're now landbound) and on down to Atlanta to pick up my mother-in-law to drive with me back to Oxford, MS.

We left on Wednesday and got here about 5 PM.  It's now Friday, and she's ready to leave, so I had to go online and book her a flight, and now I have to drive 70 miles up and 70 miles back to Memphis.  I'm a little peeved and put out, and not feeling too much in the way of gratitude right now.

Anyway, that's where I am emotionally right now, and it's not a safe place for me to be.  And, I'll probably miss the 5:30 meeting tonight because I won't be back in time from dropping her at the airport.  I think there is a 7:00 PM meeting, though, so hopefully, I can make that one.

I need a meeting desperately.  I haven't been to one for at least 2 weeks now, and am starting to have really frighteningly real drinking dreams again, which is always a huge red flag for me that I am either entering or already in relapse mode.

In my dream last night, I was on a ski trip, and accepted a drink from someone, and that was it.  When I woke up, I actually felt as if I had a hangover, as the room was stuffy and I was developing a bad sinus headache.  After a few seconds, I realized "It's only a dream..." but the fear and depression were still there.

I am going on my first ski trip in 4 years in about a month.  It's the same group I used to go with in my drinking days.  They are not heavy-duty drinkers, but they do like to have a few cocktails après ski and before dinner, and sometimes with dinner and after dinner... maybe they're more heavy-duty than I realized or wanted to admit.

I have a lot of anxiety and apprehension about going skiing for a week with people that I used to drink with.  I don't fear that they will pressure me, since they are aware of and respect my newfound sobriety and recovery, but I'm afraid of being around "it" and feeling uncomfortable and knowing that taking a drink would relieve that anxiety for the moment.

For the moment.

And, then I would be in hell.  Everything that I think and feel in those first few seconds of waking from the vivid drinking dreams would be real.  The shame. The guilt. The remorse. The regret. The wanting to launch into crisis management/coverup mode, struggling with telling Roy, my sponsor, etc., etc., or just keeping it to myself and living with the lie.

I NEVER want to go through that hell again.

I AM grateful for something.  Grateful for the drinking dreams, the reminder of how it was and how it would be if I ever do pick up that first drink.

My plan while skiing is to hit a meeting in Aspen every afternoon while everyone else is doing après ski and the hot tub.  If that means I'm seen as a loner, as distant and aloof, too bad.  I want to go skiing, and for some weird reason, I want to prove to myself that I can be in a challenging (dangerous) environment and walk through it.

I don't want to be arrogant, ignorant, or naive, though.  I'm scared that maybe I am not ready to face this yet, that maybe I'll never be (places, people, etc.) and that I'm stupid to put myself into this situation.  But, if I CAN walk through it and come out unscathed on the other side, I'll be stronger, knowing that I can handle a difficult situation and get through it as long as I am aware, vigilant and doing what I need to do.

That sounds so confident, and I am NOT confident.  I'm confused and anxious, filled with self-doubt.

I have DEFINITELY got to get to a meeting tonight!

New Kid On The Block

Hey, y'all. There's a new guy in town.  Go welcome Seth at Telling War Stories to the the Recovery Neighborhood.

Go on now . . .

. .  . Shoo!

Please Pray

I'm leading our 5:30 meeting this afternoon.  As usual, I'm putting WAAAAY too much thought into this - how I'm going to do it, what I'm going to do and say, what I should wear, whether I should I wash my hair, or if it would be good to take in some "visuals," etc., etc. ad nauseum

Please pray that I will be STILL and LISTEN for the words my HP wants me to speak.

Please pray that I will not feel I have to speak, but that I can instead allow others who NEED to speak do so.

Please pray that I'll focus on the people there, and the purpose for which we're there, instead of on my own insecurities.

Please pray that I don't try to make this about me, either in my own head, or (especially!) in the meeting.

Please pray that I will be humble, transparent and teachable, that I will be a vessel for the wisdom that comes from that One in whom I've placed my trust and hope.

Please pray that I will be sensitive and compassionate, especially to anyone who is struggling, and especially to the newcomer.

Please pray that I will grow through this experience, but that my pride and ego won't.

Please pray.  God knows I need all the help I can get!

Then God Shows Up

How perfect is this?!
Note cards for the chronically insecure - aka ME!

 As I was concluding the post As Sick as Our Secrets, my husband walked into the room.  I quickly minimized the screen, and turned my chair to face him.  "Baby, I'm really worried about our finances," he said.

A rush of emotions flooded me: guilt, shame, remorse, and RELIEF.

"I know you are, sweetie.  And I need to tell you something that's been eating at me and tearing me apart the past few days."

In a rush, I confessed to him about the spending spree, told him that I realized it was triggered by my own issues of insecurity and lack of self-worth, and that I had in fact just written a blog post confronting that truth, and that I had been afraid to tell him, that I'd wanted to "fix it" before facing him, but knew I needed to be honest and accountable with him NOW.

He was, of course, concerned about the actual spending.  But more importantly, he was grateful for the honesty, and that I really do want to confront this HUGE character defect and begin taking the steps I need to overcome it, and to rout out the deeper issues that are manifesting in this behavior that hurts both of us.

We hugged, then made breakfast together, sat down and ate, and I got ready for a Saturday morning meeting and went, very late, but went, nonetheless (chronic tardiness: another HUGE character defect I need to confront and overcome!). 
I am going up to Germantown either later today, or most likely, tomorrow to return most of the items I bought in my frenzied online shopping spree.

Most of the items.  That bothers me.  If these were purchases made in haste and panic, if I would not have purchased these items if I hadn't felt pressured to have something new to wear to a wedding I thought we were attending, WHY do I feel I NEED any of the things I bought?  The truth is, I don't NEED any of them; I WANT them.

The impending wedding was the catalyst, the motivator, the EXCUSE I needed to prompt me to buy what I coveted, and once I gave into the desire, it was just like a drinking spree: there was no controlling or stopping the desire and the resulting tornado of action in my carrying it out.

So, the real reason that I haven't returned anything, that I'm putting it off still another day (most likely, tomorrow) is that I don't want to part with those things which VERY BRIEFLY gave me some sense of peace, worthiness, joy and serenity, however false.

Because, I still don't feel that I am worthy, or deserving of joy, peace and serenity.  I don't feel that I am ENOUGH by myself, without something outside myself to validate myself.  I am still sick.

Last night at a meeting, we celebrated a beautiful woman's first "birthday."  For 6 years, she had been in and out of the rooms.  She is a wife, a mother, and a truly beautiful person, both on the outside and the inside.  She has a caring, generous spirit, and a serenity that is attractive to the newcomer and the oldtimer alike.

At least, that's what I SEE.  What she shared is quite different, and more in sync with my view of myself.  She may APPEAR to have it all together to those outside looking in, but she knows, and her Higher Power knows, what she is on the inside, what her struggles are, and how fleeting the serenity actually can be as she goes through her busy days, how she still wants to crowd the world out at times by taking a quick drink.

But she doesn't take that drink, has not for a year.  And, by her own admission, her life is better today than it has been since she can remember.  Because she is taking action, doing the next right thing, and working a complete, thorough, and HONEST program.  Because she has quit lying to herself and to others, and has chosen to expose and confront her secrets.

Her secrets do not have power over her when she shares them with others.  She can then examine them and take the action needed to eliminate the domination they have had over her for so long.

I used to sit in meetings and when a person with a LOT more sobriety would say to me "Thanks, you kept me sober today," I would seethe with anger and hurt pride.  What the HELL did that mean?  I think I'm beginning to see that when someone with less time or the same time or more time shares honestly and completely, when they are transparent and vulnerable, it allows me to see myself, my character defects, my self will run riot, and it makes me want to confront what is dark and hidden, what will keep me sick, and to expose it and attack it.

I think that's what it means.  If another alcoholic's story allows me to see my own faults and areas needing work, if a newcomer causes me to want to be more honest and to take action, that keeps me sober.

I'm getting tired of being at a standstill in my recovery and in my spiritual growth.  I want to take the hard look, do the hard work, and really begin to move forward and to grow.  I have over 3 years sober, and I've never sponsored anyone, never been asked, and never offered.  I am ashamed of this fact.  I know my HP can use me just as I am to help another alcoholic, and I pray that He will today, but I want to become so much more than I am today, and I'm praying, too, that He'll help me to not only SEE what I need to do, but that He'll give me the courage and the wisdom to GET OFF MY BUTT and take the action needed to get out of my own way.

Change is scary, growth is scary; messing with the status quo is scary.  But, it's also GOOD.

What's that saying? Nothing changes if nothing changes.

Here's to change.  Wish me luck.  No, wait, wish me COURAGE and WISDOM!

Weird, Wild Stuff (warning: not a serious post)

Submitted for your consideration, an ordinary, middle-aged couple move to another state... a state where neither have lived previously... yet a state strangely familiar... Pam and Roy have just moved to . . .

. . . THE TWILIGHT ZONE . . .

• Mississippi's state flower is the Magnolia.  My first ever online password was "magnolia" (NO, I no longer use this ANYWHERE, so don't even try it).
• Mississippi's state bird is the Mockingbird. One of my favorite Southern authors is Harper Lee, and To Kill a Mockingbird has always been one of my fave books and movies (L-O-V-E Gregory Peck in this role - his absolute best IMHO).  On the other hand, I canNOT STAND that song by Carly Simon! [*shudder*]
• I now live in a subdivision named Twelve Oaks, which was the name of Ashley's family estate in Gone With The Wind, my ALL TIME favorite Southern book and movie (I don't usually list it in my online profile information 'cuz it's gotten a little controversial, which is stupid.  You can't judge a movie from the 30's by 21st century political views!!)
• To continue with the GWTW thing or theme, I live on Scarlett Drive, and Scarlett O'Hara has ALWAYS been my secret heroine and role model. I mean, here she was supposed to be this prim and proper Southern belle and to behave accordingly, but she knew how to get what she wanted and did what it took! I think it's that rebellious, independent, "I'll show you!" attitude I identify with and admire. Hopefully, it's not her selfishness and ruthless narcissism!
• Last but not least: I named my car "Bonnie Blue" years ago, after Bonnie Blue Butler, Scarlett and Rhett's daughter (who dies tragically in a riding accident). "Bonnie Blue" is the name of one of the streets in our neighborhood (!!!). 

OMG!! Can you freakin' BELIEVE this?

Dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh (that's supposed to be the theme music from The Twilight Zone TV show.)