“Teetotalers need not apply.”
A friend recently sent me a job posting for a part-time lifestyle blogger, noting that it sounded “right up my alley.”
He was right — they were looking for someone to write about my city’s dining, hotel, art and local entertainment scene, and to snap pictures to go with.
I had all the requirements. Except one.
You must have a discerning palate and a basic understanding of cocktails and wine upon which you can build (vegetarians and teetotalers need not apply).
Needless to say, that last qualification cut me right out of the running. I briefly contemplated sending in an application anyway, along with a letter that argued that writing about libations seemed only a small portion of what the blog might comprise. But then I remembered that I do, after all, live in the hardest drinking city in the U.S.
So I just embraced my teetotalitude…and let it go.
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Tags: AA, acceptance, alcohol-free, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, blogging, drinking, letting go, nightlife, not drinking, recovery, sober, sobriety, teetotaler
A beer that tastes like barbecue?
Damn if I didn’t want a taste!
A few weekends ago, B. discovered Shiner Smokehouse, a new “sommer bier” from a popular local brewer. He & I were enjoying some really good smoked brisket at the time and he said the beer tasted kind of like the meat (in a good way), and they went really well together.
Then he offered me his bottle to give it a try.
Now, back in my drinking days – all those eight months ago – wine was my poison of choice. But when I did opt for the hops, the only beer I’d ever quaff was Shiner Bock, a meaty, flavorful lager. So when B. offered me a taste of their new brew, I suddenly had a dilemma.
I really wanted to taste it. Purely for the taste. The way he described it, it sounded truly unique, and I was utterly intrigued and eager to try this beer.
But wouldn’t I be breaking my sobriety?
To be honest, I wasn’t quite clear on that point.
B. & I discussed it for a bit, and then I decided against it. Although just a small sip, the idea of drinking beer — even a miniscule amount — just seemed wrong. I felt I’d be crossing a line I didn’t want to cross.
I imagined what might have happened if I’d done the same thing when offered a sip of a really tasty wine — something that has in fact occurred a few times over the last eight months. I resisted in those instances, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to take Just One Sip. I knew it would taste too good, and I’d feel that delicious wineglow instantly. It probably wouldn’t be the same with the beer, but still… I didn’t want to jeopardize my eight months of hard-earned sobriety. It was just too risky. So I declined, and went on with my day, not really giving it another thought.
Well, I did make a little mental note to ask my AA sponsor about it later. I recalled her telling me a story about a recent girls’ weekend when she mistakenly got served an alcoholic drink in the guise of an alcohol-free one. She reported that the taste of the liquor shocked her and burned her throat, causing her to spit it out immediately. She called her own sponsor, terribly shaken, to ask what this meant for her 15 years of sobriety. Her sponsor assured her that she hadn’t broken her sobriety, as the drinking hadn’t been intentional.
And sure enough, when I discussed my dilemma with her this week, she made that distinction. An unintentional slip like hers wasn’t considered a break in sobriety. But a willful one, such as the sip I was pondering, would be.
So there you have it.
Coincidentally enough, just this week I ran across an article about this very topic. For AA’s whose work relates to alcohol, it poses an even more troublesome problem than mine. And it seems that the various recovering chefs and bartenders quoted in The New York Times have chosen their own ways of addressing the situation.
I can imagine my non-alcoholic friends thinking this is all much ado about nothing. And yet, to me it isn’t. I know I’ve come too far to go back to where I’ve been. Not even for the most ambrosial alcohol in the world.
And certainly not for a barbecue-flavored beer.
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Tags: AA, AA sponsor, alcohol, alcohol-free, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, beer, breaking sobriety, drinking, not drinking, recovery, relapse, sober, sobriety, staying sober
Last summer, my current hometown earned this dubious honor.
Had we achieved this accolade in 1992, the year I moved here, you can bet your Shiner Bock that I would have bragged, big time, to the gang back in D.C.
After all, one of the major selling points that convinced me to move here was the margaritas. Specifically, the ones made with grain alcohol at a favorite patio hangout. Patrons are limited to two of these Everclear-powered potions, and with good reason. When I first visited here for a job interview and weekend of exploration, I indulged in the infamous Purple Margaritas. I woke up the morning after my interview with a ginormous hangover and fuzzy recollection of my aggressive and sloppy flirting attempts with another copywriter at my potential new ad agency’s happy hour…while his girlfriend (also a writer there) fumed and glared nearby. Way to win friends and impress future colleagues!
My town is a college town, so no doubt that has a lot to do with its drinking proclivity. But even for us long-graduated folks, there is a sense that drinking is de rigueur on pretty much any/every occasion. This is also quite a creative mecca, with musicians and writers and other artists trying to eke out a living, and it’s hard to deny that alcohol’s a well-established facet of that lifestyle.
In my fair city, new wine bars, liquor stores and margarita spots seem to keep popping up like Whack-a-Moles everywhere I go. It goes without saying that it’s a constant challenge not to slip up, with alcohol so easily accessible at every turn. And yet, for eight months (and counting) I’ve managed not to fall prey to the mindset or barrage of alcoholic opportunity here. I’ll have to give a fair share of credit for this achievement to one of the other noteworthy attributes of my fair city: its access to AA meetings. Each week there are 450+ here. Maybe the hard drinking and the hard recovering go hand in hand?
In a few months, Forbes will announce the winner of this year’s (coveted?) title. For the sake of other suffering Austin alcoholics, I’m hoping we don’t repeat our victory. What’s more, I can’t help but hope that whatever city claims the hard-drinking award this year has the recovery resources to match.
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Tags: AA, sobriety, recovery, sober, alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, AA meeting, alcoholics, drinking, life, getting sober, alcohol abuse, liquor store, Austin, hardest-drinking city
Reason NOT to Drink #3: vacation
A much-needed break.
A four-day-weekend.
A little R&R.
Time to decompress.
Chillaxin.’
Call it what you will, the concept of “vacation” never existed in my mind without the accompanying concept of “drinking.”
Whether it was a tropical getaway replete with piña coladas or a girls’ trip to NYC for a wealth of wining and dining, alcohol always figured prominently in my leisure travel. (Of course, it always figured prominently in my business travel, too, but that’s a whole other post entirely.)
After all, vacations are for relaxing and cutting loose – and who could be expected to accomplish these without drink in hand? Not I! As a result, far too many of my vacations involved suffering through at least one horrible hangover in the heat and humidity of the Caribbean, on a nausea-inducing road trip or (worst of all) during a half-day museum visit.
But that was then, and this is now. Today, I’m thankful to say, I have 7+ months of sobriety under my belt. So it was quite a revelation to enjoy a happily hangover-free vacation this past weekend, when B. and I took my daughters to the Gulf Coast of Texas for a mini-vacation.
I was up at the crack of dawn every morning, in time to see the sunrise (it was particularly lovely on Saturday, as the pic above shows) and the seagulls flocking to feed in the surf. On Sunday, I woke my youngest daughter at 6:00 and we stole away to a local birding spot, where we spied an alligator, a pair of Roseate Spoonbills, several Great Blue Herons and White Ibises, three Magnificent Frigate Birds, and the unidentified feathered friend in this shot — all before 7:30 a.m.
On the beach, I drank water, lemonade and Diet Cokes – and felt none of the boozy wooziness of beach trips past. At one point, I caught a whiff of coconut sunscreen and it sparked a craving for a sweet piña colada – but only for its tropical flavor, not its rum. B. said we could probably get a virgin colada at a bar nearby, but I let the longing pass and slurped up my lemonade instead.
For those readers who aren’t alcoholics, or who’ve been sober for a while, this revelation of mine (”Wow! You can have fun on vacation without alcohol!”) might seem silly and obvious. Still, I’m happy to share my new experience. Having written about two other types of situations that I used to (but no longer) feel required a buzz to endure, I’m proud to add yet another alcohol-free experience to my growing list.
So I raise my glass of lemonade in a toast to summer, to sunrises, to sobriety and to time off for good behavior.
Cheers!
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Tags: AA, alcohol-free, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, drinking, getting sober, life, not drinking, recovery, sober vacation, sobriety, staying sober, travel, trip
Sobraiku #6
only thing I need:
desire to not drink today
it’s my kind of club
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Tags: AA Third Tradition, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, haiku, not drinking, poetry, recovery, sober, Sobraiku, sobriety, sobriety poetry
Back in the day, I could always muster up a reason to drink:
Because something bad happened at work.
Because something good happened at work.
Because it was a beautiful spring/summer/fall/winter evening.
Because the kids were acting up and I needed to take the edge off.
Because I was at a party with strangers.
Because I was at a party with good friends.
Because it was Friday. Yay!
Because it was Monday. Ugh.
Just because.
Although happy things were certainly triggers to my drinking, more often than not the phrase “I need a drink” came in response to something negative. I frequently used it as a punchline:
Colleague: “How’d the client meeting go?”
Me: “I need a drink. Or five.”
I know plenty of people do this. I wrote about observing this phenomenon recently in friends’ Facebook status updates. For all I know, my friends could be drinking themselves silly after (or during?) the posting of their alcohol-related status, but I somehow doubt it. For me, though, when I said “I need a drink,” you could bet that I was gonna have a drink. Or five.
After writing recently about my younger daughter’s health condition, and how I realized that I wouldn’t use that as a reason to drink anymore, I decided to start chronicling all those things that in the past would have been perfect justification to pop the cork on the Pinot Noir. (In no particular order.)
If my daughter’s health was Reason #1 NOT to Drink, I now present Reason #2 NOT to Drink: kids’ birthday parties.
For those of you who’ve ever attended a kid’s party at a Chuck E. Cheese, you know why I might consider it a fitting model for an additional 10th circle in Dante’s Inferno, had these establishments existed circa 1300. For those of you who’ve never attended such a party or even stepped foot in one of these hellholes, consider yourselves extremely blessed.
(Unless, of course, you consider a cramped, badly lit, overpriced, stinky, incredibly noisy “restaurant” full of the devil’s spawn running around unchecked to be Good Times.)
My first exposure to Hell On Earth came on the occasion of the 4th or 5th birthday of S., the daughter of a close friend. I didn’t have kids at the time, and had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I cheerily agreed to go.
Although Chuck E.’s no longer serves beer, thank goodness they did back then.
I would have preferred wine or mixed drinks, but watery beer was all they had, and I drank it. Heartily. And while I wasn’t drunk when I left, I was tipsy, and recall walking out into the blinding sunlight searching for my car. When I got home, I of course had a few more drinks. You know, to recover.
On the occasion of my own daughter K.’s first birthday party at our house, most of our friends at the time didn’t have kids. After K. was put to sleep, we grown-ups partied into the wee hours. I think I had been asleep for maybe two hours when K. awoke, ready to start her first day as a full-fledged one-year-old. Ouch.
And so it continued through the years. Most of my friends with kids thankfully served beer and wine at their offspring’s galas, and we returned the favor. Most recently, I hosted little girls at sleepovers with my glass of wine on hand to soothe me amidst the shrieks and Hillary Duff karaoke.
When a good girlfriend of mine invited me and my daughters to her 3-year-old’s party a few weekends ago, I admit I felt a twinge of trepidation. I assumed my girls would be the oldest kids there, and would be eager to leave after five minutes. My plan was to go and stay just long enough to avoid a headache from what I anticipated would be afternoon of whining and crying, stinky diapers, and conversations about weaning and potty training. Yeah, I had a bad attitude. And how was I going to endure without an Adult Beverage?
Well, wouldn’t you know it, I did. And…I had fun.
The hosts had hired a clown who kept the kids entranced with his wacky balloon-creature making. My 9- and 11-year-old even enjoyed it, I was pleasantly surprised to note.
Then I saw they had a face painting kit, which I promptly took in hand and then volunteered my services. After I executed my first butterfly fairly well, I had a line of kids clamoring for frogs, flowers and rocket ships. And I wholeheartedly enjoyed the company of all those little tykes. Relished it, even. They were truly adorable.
Reviewing my behavior and thoughts during and after the party, I came to realize how silly and self-centered I’d been on all those other occasions in the past. These events hadn’t been about me, yet for the most part, that’s the only person I had considered.
So now I’m happy to report that not only have I conquered another previously dreaded event without the aid of alcohol, but I’ve also developed (in a single afternoon, no less) a new appreciation for the parties of the potty set. Once again, I attribute this slightly miraculous metamorphosis to my AA program. It’s helped me be more present, to be cognizant of the here and now and of such wonderful things I missed in the past – like the giggle of a toddler when the face-painting brush tickles her cheek, or the lovely blue stain of food coloring on my 9-year-old’s cupcake-sated tongue…
Oh, and S., if you’re reading this, thanks for inviting us.
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Tags: AA program, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, birthday parties, change, kids, life, not drinking, party, recovery, sober, sobriety, staying sober
And now, a word on my sponsor.
I didn’t receive a whole lot of guidance on how to choose my AA sponsor.
If you’re unfamiliar with the term, a sponsor is someone who typically has a year of sobriety in the AA program, who has worked all 12 steps and who is ready to take a newcomer under her wing. She has to be willing to be there ’round the clock for her “sponsee,” to take her calls of desperation in the wee hours, to lend a sturdy shoulder to cry upon, to act as a confidante, and to offer encouragement and support.
Most importantly, she’s there to lead by example, to help her sponsee understand and work the AA program and its 12 steps by sharing her own experience, strength and hope. This site likens a sponsor to a “good friend, teacher, tutor, experienced guide, and older brother/sister.”
To me, getting a sponsor felt like a Big Deal. I desperately wanted my recovery to succeed and my sobriety to stick, and it seemed like my sponsor would be integral to making that happen, a crucial part of my journey. Surely I needed to choose my Sherpa wisely for my journey up Everest, lest I wind up bent and broken at the bottom of a blue crevasse.
And yet, for all that was riding on the decision, I wasn’t really clear on how to choose this Very Important Person.
Some AA’s advised me to listen to the women sharing at meetings, until I identified someone who seemed to have a similar story and to whom I could relate. On the other hand, some counseled that it was preferable to enlist a sponsor who wasn’t anything like me.
As the days went on, and as I attended meeting after meeting and carefully considered the women I heard speak and to whom I talked afterward, I still hadn’t encountered anyone who seemed like a good fit.
I’d heard people talk about having more than one sponsor, which seemed to indicate that they weren’t getting the needed results from one sponsor, so thus felt the need to secure another. Multiple sponsors? Heck, I couldn’t even find one.
It was all very confusing, and started to stress me out as the days went on and I was left Sherpa-less on my long trek.
And then, it happened.
It was two weeks after I got into AA – I know this because I just went back to check my emails and found my first message asking A. about possibly sponsoring me. What’s weird to me now is that it had seemed like I’d been going to meetings FOREVER at that point. And yet, it turns out it had been just 14 days.
I’d awakened early that morning, searched the online AA meeting list and found a 7:00 meeting at a church just minutes from my house.
It was a small group, just five or six in attendance. I hadn’t been to such a small meeting before, and being in such close quarters, seated around a coffee table, made me feel awkward and extremely self-conscious.
Surprisingly, I can’t recall what the topic was, but when A. shared some thoughts during the discussion, she mentioned something about “brand planning,” and I surmised she was somehow connected with my industry, the field of advertising. Sure enough, after the meeting, I asked her and it turned out that not only did we share the same line of work, we also had both business associates and friends in common. I shared a bit of my history and we commiserated over the Crazy World of Advertising. I felt a kinship with her, and was delighted when she offered me her card.
I emailed her that night, and, well, the rest is six months of history.
I know it was more than luck that brought me to that Wednesday morning meeting, and more than luck that brought me to A. I feel truly blessed to have her as my sponsor. She’s wise beyond words, and yet very human and humble. Even though she’s a few years younger than me, she feels like an older sister. (In a good way.) Incredibly, she lives just a few blocks from me, and has two daughters just a few years younger than mine.
I feel like our paths would have crossed at some point even if not for AA, and we would have become friends. I’m just happy we met when we did.
Since this is my first and only experience in seeking out and finding a sponsor, I’m not sure what advice I’d offer any readers who might find themselves in this situation. My best counsel is that by attending as many meetings as you can, listening closely when people are sharing, and keeping yourself open to possibility, you’re doing what it takes. Do that, and have faith that it will happen, and soon enough you’ll be on your way up the mountain, trusty guide by your side.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, AA sponsor, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, finding an AA sponsor, friendship, life, newcomer to AA, recovery, relationships, sobriety, sponsor
“The vacuum is drunk.”
Here’s the transcript of a text conversation from a site that I just discovered:
(908): the vacuum is drunk
(703): what?
(908): i spilled my drink and tried to vacuum it and now the vacuum is drunk
People send in messages from friends who are drunk texting – the 21st-century version of drunk dialing. Or messages from the morning after…
(212): Godddamnit i jsu woke up in oharee. My connecxtion left an hro ago. Thosse flight atttendants can DRinK
Many of the texts are brilliant in their ability to communicate an entire story, to conjure up vivid imagery in a few garbled phrases.
(912): i woke up with socks on this mrning
(485): so?
(912): i didnt wear socks lst night
I have to admit, reading through those texts took me back to some of my funnier and more misbegotten adventures as a drinker…long before texting existed. How well I remember recounting the previous night’s escapades with my college compadres or coworkers. Damn, we had some fun.
But I know it wasn’t all harmless, and I paid a steep price for my (mis)adventures in alcohol.
So these days I’ll stick to being entertained by other people’s folly and foibles, not mine. This way, I get all of the hilarity, none of the hangover.
(315): covered in glitter, my cheek hurts, and theres a handprint on my face. Would i do it again. Absolutly
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Tags: alcoholism, drinking, alcohol humor, alcohol abuse, drunk texting, texts from last night, funny, drunk humor
Scary, isn’t it?
It can be pretty frightening to walk into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting for the first time. Or for the second or third time, for that matter.
At the very first meeting I attended, there were all sorts of scary creatures. Weary-eyed old men. Worn-out women. Sullen 20-somethings. Holy-roller housewives. Flip-flop-wearing frat boys.
Equally scary were the stories I heard. Tales of arrests, violence, drug addiction, neglected children, lost jobs, broken homes…you name it.
The thought of standing up and telling these people I was an alcoholic (which would mean admitting I was just like them) and then sharing some bit of my true self was fearful beyond words.
I didn’t go back to another AA meeting for a year. When I finally did venture out again, I only attended two meetings before I decided, yet again, that I had nothing in common with these alcoholic creatures and there was nothing at AA for me.
I wasn’t down on my luck. I hadn’t “hit bottom.” I wasn’t haggard and in bad health. I wasn’t religious. Heck, I wasn’t even really an alcoholic. After all, plenty of my friends told me I didn’t have a drinking problem – I just went a little overboard sometimes.
I talked myself out of it. Again. And again. And again. I could control this thing. I was a successful career woman. I was a mom. I was a multitasker. I could manage.
Until I couldn’t.
Two weeks ago, feeling nervous and very afraid, I walked into yet another AA meeting — about 13 years after I sat through that very first one, the one where I saw all those frightening creatures.
And there they were. Again.
The old men. The weary women. The young ones. The housewives.
But something was different.
Me.
I had come to realize that I was just like them. I was an alcoholic. I was out of control. I wanted what they had. I would do anything to get it – even if it scared me beyond belief.
And so I went to that meeting, holding within me the one requirement for AA membership: a desire to stop drinking. I was welcomed with open arms and hearts.
Turns out it wasn’t so scary, after all.
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Tags: 12 steps, 12-Step Program, AA, AA meeting, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, fear, Halloween, life, people, promises, recovery, scary, sober, sobriety, Step One, Third Tradition
A hangover of a different sort.
I woke up this morning, the day after Halloween, feeling different than I had on the day after Halloween in years past.
I felt a little woozy, with a funny taste in my mouth. No throbbing headache, though. No unquenchable thirst. No shaky hands.
See, I hadn’t toured the neighborhood last night with a plastic cup o’ wine in my hand while my daughters rang doorbells and gathered loot. I hadn’t sat on the porch refilling my glass from a bottle of cabernet while I waited to hand out KitKats and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I hadn’t gone to a party and helped myself to drink after drink, late into the night.
Instead, I had enjoyed the evening sipping nothing more than a Sprite and a few glasses of water. Oh, and eating about a dozen pieces of various kinds of chocolate candy. Well….maybe two dozen.
But a candy hangover beats a cabernet hangover any day.
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Tags: AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, candy, drinking, Halloween, hangover, party, recovery, sober, sobriety, sugar, wine
If I could turn back time…
This past Sunday at 2:00 in the morning, we were supposed to turn our clocks back as Daylight Savings Time came to an end. Although most of us probably snored through it, in essence, we got to relive one hour — 60 precious minutes — that morning. Which got me thinking…
What if you could turn back time and relive one hour of your life differently?
Kind of like in the Cher song, but perhaps without the thong and leather and chains. It’d be your shot at a cosmic “do over” of sorts – maybe to right some long-standing wrong or change a life-altering decision you’d made in the past. Especially if it were something you’d done or said while drinking.
Would you, for instance, go back and call a cab to pick you up instead of getting behind the wheel that night?
Would you have held your tongue during that argument?
Would you have turned that potential strange bedfellow away?
I suspect you’re thinking about those promises: “We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.” and “We will see how our experience can benefit others.”
So you might answer “No” – because it’s all part of the journey.
I get that. But I’m still a newbie. I’ve just started my work, and I’m not there yet. I am hopeful that I will see those promises realized.
Still, I can’t help wondering…
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Tags: 12 steps, 12-Step Program, 9th step, AA, alcohol, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, change, Cher, clocks, Daylight Savings Time, experience, journey, life, mistakes, past, promises, regrets, relationships, time, time change
First let me say I’m new to this sobriety business. I’m just getting up to speed with AA’s 12 Steps and 12 Traditions, not to mention all those handy sayings that in a previous life I considered awfully corny and simplistic.
“Keep it Simple, Stupid.” “One day at a time.” “Fake it till you make it.”
I’m also not particularly religious, having been a Catholic in my aforementioned previous life and then having abandoned organized religion altogether about 20 years ago. I haven’t considered myself all that spiritual, either.
So the whole ‘turning things over to a Higher Power’ idea was a tough one for me. (Did I mention that I’m also a Control Freak? Yeah, I know. Who among us isn’t, right?) And yet at some point in the last 2 1/2 weeks, I did just that. Surrendered. Mainly because I was going crazy and losing my grip on reality. It was time to stop the insanity.
So I did a few things. I started attending at least one AA meeting a day. I repeated the Serenity Prayer time and again. And I ever…so…slowly…loosened the stranglehold I had on the idea that I could do it all myself. It was a struggle, but I let…it…go.
I’ve continued to surrender and to accept every day. And I’ve noticed two things have happened…so far…
Thing One: I haven’t wanted to drink at all. Haven’t felt even the slightest twinge. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Thing Two: After going crazy fighting again and again with my ex over money he owed me, I stopped harping on it. Even though it was owed me from years ago, I knew I didn’t REALLY need it right then. And I figured it’s only money, right? So I just let it go. Just like that. Poof.
Well, wouldn’t you know, two days later he handed me a check. Not for the full amount, but a portion as a down payment.
Hmmm…
Coincidence?
My lucky day?
Sudden planetary alignment?
or…
“Let Go and Let God”?
Don’t know about you, but I’ve got my hunch…
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Tags: AA, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, Control, insanity, Let Go and Let God, letting go, life, sanity, surrender
Courage to change.
Change.
Hope.
Courage.
These things that have been so relevant to our personal journeys have grown ever more meaningful to our nation as a whole.
God, grant us the courage to change the things we can.
Because…yes, we can.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcohol, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, Barack Obama, believe, change, courage, difference, God, journey, life, new day, serenity prayer, sober, yes we can
Shilling for sobriety.
In the advertising world in which I work (and which no doubt harbors many an alcoholic), it’s well-accepted that the best tag lines are simple, easy to say, and easy to remember.
“Good to the last drop.”
“Where’s the beef?”
“Drivers wanted.”
The ones that stick are also often inspirational or empowering.
“Have it your way.”
“Don’t mess with Texas.”
“Just do it.”
I’ve written before about the many slogans of Alcoholics Anonymous, and how at first I thought them corny and old-fashioned. They’ve endured for about 70 years, though, which is more than I can say for most brand tag lines. So I figure there must be something to them. They’ve certainly managed to grow on me since I joined AA five months ago.
“Let go and let God.”
“One day at a time.”
“Easy does it.”
Granted, they’re not really lines that define the whole AA organization or brand, but are more like pithy reminders of its guiding principles. Honestly, I think it’d be pretty tough to encapsulate AA in just one line.
Yet I can’t help wonder what might have happened if the AA organization chose to practice promotion — rather than attraction — as its strategy to grow membership. Indulge me, if you will, as I ponder how AA might have utilized some of the most popular ad campaigns of the last few decades…
“Got serenity?”
“A life is a terrible thing to waste.”
“AA. Because I’m worth it.”
“Like a good neighbor, AA is there.”
“AA. We bring good things to life.”
“You’re in good hands with AA.”
“I want my AA.”
“Nothing comes between me and my sobriety.”
“AA. What happens here, stays here.”
Perhaps the best line would be a version of Nike’s compelling classic, with a slight change that reminds us of our simple, single-minded goal for the next 24 hours.
“Just don’t do it.”
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Tags: AA, sobriety, recovery, sober, alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholics, drinking, life, not drinking, staying sober, advertising, AA slogans, advertising slogans, tag lines
Making the best of the Wurst.
It’s known as the Ten-Day Salute to Sausage, and it happens every November in New Braunfels, Texas.
It’s Wurstfest — a tribute to the food, drink and music that represent the German heritage of this town founded in the 1800’s.
If you know anything about German culture, you know these folks like their bier.
So…a typical Wurstfest itinerary might go something like this:
Eat sausage on a stick.
Buy a goofy hat.
More beer.
More beer.
Beer.
Beer.
You can see why some people affectionately call the event “Wastefest.”
I’ve gone for three years in a row now — the last two while sober. Last year, I went during a short-lived stint of self-guided sobriety (In other words, I wasn’t a member of AA).
Instead of enjoying the sights and sounds and unrivaled people-watching, I focused on nothing but what was verboten: drinking. I wallowed in self-pity. I pouted. I was miserable.
This past weekend, I attended Wurstfest with 25 days of AA membership under my belt. I’d been to a meeting just a week earlier where a guy with 14 years of sobriety talked about the moment he accepted what he could and couldn’t do as an alcoholic.
The only thing he couldn’t do was drink. So what did that leave him? Everything Else.
Saturday night, Everything Else included doing the Chicken Dance with my daughters, sneaking spoonfuls of their Frito Pie, snapping photos of the oompah bands and polka dancers, and screaming with delight on a Tilt-a-Whirl for the first time in about 15 years.
It was the best Wurst time ever.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, acceptance, alcohol, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, beer, carnival, Chicken Dance, drinking, German, life, party, polka, recovery, sausage, sober, sobriety, Texas, Wurstfest
New York state of mind.
I am in New York City for a girls’ weekend.
I have been slightly nervous about this trip since I started in AA a month ago. My friends are good friends – my BFFs, in fact, and they’re all very understanding and supportive.
They’re also my old drinking buddies. And old habits die hard.
I consulted with my sponsor before I left, and she had some good advice, helpful hints for making it through the weekend. Among them were to always have an exit strategy in case I found the situation overwhelming or tempting, and to request some incredibly silly and fancy alcohol-free concoction from the friendly bartender wherever we may be.
I also collected plenty of phone numbers from people to call in case these things didn’t help.
And, amazingly, I hadn’t been in the city two hours before I got a call from a woman here in Manhattan– Kathy — who’d been contacted by one of my new AA program friends back home. Kathy offered to meet me at a Friday meeting at the AA World Headquarters off Riverside Drive. This in itself was incredible enough – how kind of her to call me and offer assistance (I’m still getting used to this aspect of the program).
Even more incredible, however, was this “AA World Headquarters” thing. I never knew there was such a place! Of course, I’m still a newcomer, but still… I couldn’t help wonder…what is it? Is it like Mecca for Friends of Bill W? The Mothership? The Holy Grail? What would happen if I went? Was I worthy?
I was so intrigued and really wanted to go, but we had plans for MOMA and the Whitney that I couldn’t rearrange. I am determined to go while I’m here, however. It just seems too good to pass up. When I do go, I will be sure to report back, never fear.
In the meantime, I’m enjoying my trip to New York, staying sober in the city that never sleeps, one day at a time.
If I can make it here, I’ll make it anywhere.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, AA World Headquarters, advice, alcohol, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, buddies, drinking, Friends of Bill W, girlfriends, hints, New York City, not drinking, one day at a time, recovery, sobriety, sponsor, staying sober, travel, trip, vacation
Trading vices.
So here I am in the Big Apple on a girls’ weekend, with a mere 30 days of sobriety in the AA program under my belt.
There have been plenty of opportunities to tumble off the wagon, needless to say. I’m here with my best girls – the ones with whom I’ve enjoyed many a good night out with many a good drink.
Pre-departure, when my sponsor was giving me her helpful hints on different things to do when out at a drinking event — meeting friends at a bar, say — she told me this surprising advice: smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.
I’ve been a social smoker in the past – smoking only when drinking, and on rare occasions when not. Luckily, I don’t seem to have the smoker gene, so it never became a habit.
So, while in NYC, I’ve smoked a cigarette every night.
Strangely, it helped me to have this guilty little pleasure at my disposal.
My girlfriends were a little dismayed, at first. Cancer, they said. Nasty. Smelly.
But I told them it was a far better thing to have smoked before driving than to have drank before driving. And I assured them I wouldn’t let any secondhand smoke drift their way. And that I wasn’t in danger of taking it up as a regular thing.
I will toss the pack when I return home.
But until then, I’m gonna smoke ‘em. ‘Cause I got ‘em.
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Tags: AA, advice, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, drinking, girlfriends, habits, not drinking, smoking, sobriety, sponsor, vices
New York, post.
Back from NYC, home safe and sound and happy.
I had such a good time that I was sort of fearing coming home, thinking I would suffer some post-vacation blues. Instead, I feel very content. I took in a Broadway show and got to visit backstage, had some wonderful girl time, experienced some very inspiring art and thoroughly enjoyed the sights and sounds of that big, vibrant city. And I did all of it sober. Clear-headed. Crisp and sharp and not a bit fuzzy.
I even made it to a Manhattan AA meeting, which was different from the ones at home, and yet the same.
I never made it, however, to AA World Headquarters, I’m sorry to report. That journey to the Mothership will have to wait…
Over the weekend, I also had some really good discussions with my girlfriends about my alcoholism and AA. At first I seriously worried about sounding like some crazed, born-again evangelist, because right now it’s hard not to drone on and on about the program, which has made such a difference in my life already.
I even shared my blog, something I hadn’t intended to do. Well, not just yet. Even though it’s a pretty good way to help explain what this all means to me, I didn’t want to come off as self-absorbed and self-indulgent. (You know, like 99% of the blogosphere.)
Admittedly, that’s pretty much how I viewed AA in the past, when I made my first feeble forays into the program years ago: self-pitying, self-involved, selfish.
It wasn’t until this time around that I realized AA is really a way to be self-reflective. Self-evaluating. Self-helping.
And, as I hope to be someday, selfless.
I can’t help but also hope that maybe someone struggling like I have been will stumble upon these posts, and find some nugget that resonates with her — and that gets her started on her own path to sobriety.
Ha. Here I am, skipping ahead to Step 12, when I haven’t even completed Step 2.
I always was impatient.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcohol, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, blogging, girlfriends, New York City, NYC, recovery, selflessness, sharing, sober, sobriety, staying sober, Step 12, Step 2, trip, vacation
In need of a 7-second delay.
Thank God I’m not a radio host. I’d have incurred some hefty FAA fines tonight.
After dinner, I completely lost it with my 11-year-old (a.k.a. Control Freak Jr.).
She got frustrated while doing her homework and I got frustrated at her frustration.
She started yelling and I started yelling about her yelling.
She started charging up the stairs and I started channeling George Carlin.
The Foul-word Usage Count (FUC), to my best recollection:
“Goddamn”: 2
“fuck”: 3
“shit”: 2
Mind you, I didn’t say anything abusive to her or about her. My outbursts were more along the lines of “stopping this shit right now” and “that goddamn book.”
After she had tearfully retreated into her bedroom, I felt like…well…shit.
I promptly called my AA sponsor and got her voicemail, so I left a message explaining my situation and asking her to call me ASAP. There are three mini-bottles of white wine in my fridge right now — part of a four-pack I purchased to use in risotto the other night and in next week’s Thanksgiving cooking. It was all too tempting to break one open in the name of soothing my nerves.
I didn’t, though. By the time I left the voice message, I had calmed down enough to head up and talk things over with my daughter. She had calmed down, too.
I apologized and she apologized and we talked about getting frustrated and angry and how it all happened. We both vowed to try harder next time we sensed something like this coming on, and to not let it get so crazy. I feel that in spite of how it began, it ended well.
Back downstairs, I called my sponsor again to let her know I was okay, in case she’d gotten my message. She answered and we chatted. She told me it was a really good thing I’d done — calling her and not drinking. And, she said, by talking things over with my daughter and owning up to my angry feelings and my part in the fiasco — as opposed to just hitting the bottle and glossing over that uncomfortable incident, I had actually been a good role model.
Role model? Role model?
Fuckin’ A.
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Tags: AA, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, cursing, help, life, losing control, lost it, not drinking, parenting, profanity, recovery, sobriety, sponsor, staying sober, swearing in front of kids
Status quo.
Aside from this blog and Flickr, my other current online self-expression passion is Facebook.
I’m not sure why it surprises me, but I just realized that a healthy (or perhaps unhealthy?) amount of my Friends often have status updates related to drinking.
Behold, a sampling from today:
J. is home, armed with a glass of wine, and ready for very little action.
T. is ready for beer:30.
D. is like one of those toy thermodynamically powered water-drinking birds, but for booze.
S. is letting her friends feed her grilled cheese and champagne.
M. believes that beer is the gift you give yourself.
While I have no desire to drink right now, all those damn alcohol references kinda bug me. But it’s okay. I’m in my pj’s, ready to read a bit of the Big Book before turning in. But first I have to update my status.
C. is sipping chamomile tea and looking forward to the morning.
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Tags: AA, alcohol, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, computer, drinking, Facebook, friends, not drinking, online, recovery, self-expression, sober, sobriety, social networks, status update
Open letter to Opa.
Dear Dad,
You’re coming to visit today, and I’m equal parts happy and anxious.
Your granddaughters, who get to enjoy your company for a few days each year, are giggling and giddy with anticipation. They’ve made a “Welcome Opa” sign, decided which board games you’re going to play and in what order, and have even set aside some of their hard-earned Halloween loot to share with you. This makes me happy.
My big sister K., whose home was first on The Opa Comes Stateside Tour, tells me you were drinking openly — but also having furtive, late-night drinks — while there. This makes me anxious.
I know you’re not on the wagon anymore, and I don’t think you have been for several years now, though it’s not something we’ve talked about recently. I sent you that email a few weeks ago about my being in AA, along with my request that you respect that.
At this point, I’m not sure what “respecting that” might entail…maybe just being okay with my not having any booze in the house and not bringing any in, not overdoing it if you drink when we go out to dinner, stuff like that… I’m hoping you’ll help me in this way, because I’m feeling quite protective of my sobriety right now. It’s a delicate, precious thing, and I want to keep it at all costs. I’m going to be quite the fixture at AA meetings this week, of that much I am certain.
Speaking of AA meetings, knowing that you were in the program in the past, I’m kind of tempted to invite you along to one with me, but I’m not sure if that’s okay to do. I’m kind of fuzzy on Sobriety Etiquette. Since there is no “Dear Abby” for recovering alcoholics, it’s a good question for my sponsor.
I also want to ask about your alcoholic history. I remember spending my childhood seeing you passed out on the sofa downstairs, reeking of booze and cigarettes and urine. I recall the shame of my junior high and high school years, when I couldn’t have friends over for fear of being tragically embarrassed. I met my dates at the curb and had them drop me off there, too. No hanging out in the living room or sneaking a kiss at the door. It was just too dangerous.
I want to know how you were able to stumble through 15+ years, inebriated and irresponsible and mostly uninvolved in my and K.’s formative years.
I want to know how long you were in AA, and how many times you tried to get sober. And why you aren’t now.
I realize this all sounds pretty accusatory and angry. Clearly I still have work of my own to do. I know this. But I also think that knowing more about you might help me understand my own thoughts and behaviors and inclinations.
After all, I love that I inherited your bright blue eyes and your way with words and your sense of humor. But when it comes to drinking, I do not want to be like father, like daughter.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, AA sponsor, alcoholic, alcoholic family, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, dad, drinking, dysfunctional family, family relationships, family visits, father-daughter relationships, life, Like father like daughter, not drinking, recovery, relationships, resentment, sober, sobriety
From p. 37 of Alcoholics Anonymous, The Story of How Many Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered from Alcoholism, Fourth Edition, copyright ©1939 (a.k.a. The Big Book)
Our behavior is as absurd and incomprehensible with respect to the first drink as that of an individual with a passion, say, for jaywalking. He gets a thrill out of skipping in front of fast-moving vehicles. He enjoys himself for a few years in spite of friendly warnings. Up to this point you would label him as a foolish chap having queer ideas of fun. Luck then deserts him and he is slightly injured several times in succession. You would expect him, if he were normal, to cut it out. Presently he is hit again and this time has a fractured skull. Within a week after leaving the hospital a fast-moving trolley car breaks his arm. He tells you he has decided to stop jaywalking for good, but in a few weeks he breaks both legs.
On through the years this conduct continues, accompanied by his continual promises to be careful or to keep off the streets altogether. Finally, he can no longer work, his wife gets a divorce and he is held up to ridicule. He tries every known means to get the jaywalking idea out of his head. He shuts himself up in an asylum, hoping to mend his ways. But the day he comes out he races in front of a fire engine, which breaks his back. Such a man would be crazy, wouldn’t he?
You may think our illustration is too ridiculous. But is it? We, who have been through the wringer, have to admit if we substituted alcoholism for jaywalking, the illustration would fit us exactly. However intelligent we may have been in other respects, where alcohol has been involved, we have been strangely insane. It’s strong language — but isn’t it true?
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Tags: AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, drinking, getting sober, jaywalking, life, passion for jaywalking, recovery, sober, sobriety, The Big Book, trouble
Angel in the unemployment line?
I heard this story (or something like it) at an AA meeting the other day. Back in the day, it was the sort of thing that would have inspired a fair share of derisive eye-rolling on my part. And now? I think maybe it’s a little corny, but a nice enough reminder to count our blessings and give credit where it’s due, whether you’re an agnostic or an angel aficionado.
A visitor to Heaven is walking down a hall with his angelic tour guide, who stops in front of two closed doors.
The angel opens the first door for the visitor, who beholds a hubbub of activity. Inside an enormous room that seems to go on forever, an infinite number of angels are busily opening mail, answering phones, typing on computers. Not a single one sits idle.
“These angels are in charge of receiving all prayers and requests,” says the guide. “They toil around the clock.”
“Wow,” says the visitor, taking it all in, amazed by the multitudes at work.
The angel smiles and gently closes the first door, then moves over to the second door. She turns the knob and slowly reveals the room beyond.
The visitor sees it is just as enormous as the first room, but instead of a bustling throng, there is but one lone angel, sitting still at a desk.
“Why isn’t this angel working? Doesn’t she have a job?” the visitor asks, puzzled.
“Oh indeed, she has a job,” responds the guide. “She’s in charge of receiving all the thank you’s.”
I’ve sent out an ungodly heap of requests these past few weeks. So today, I made an effort to send out some thank you’s.
Just doing my part to keep an angel off the dole.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, Alcoholics Anonymous, angel, angels, being thankful, blessings, giving thanks, grateful, gratefulness, recovery, sobriety, thank you
Today, I am thankful for:
my Polish grandmother’s pierogi recipe.
words.
my family, even with all their angst-inducing nuttiness.
my sense of humor, which helps me deal with the above-mentioned family.
my friends, who also help me deal.
my daughters and their exasperatingly, exhilaratingly different personalities.
sprigs of rosemary fresh from my garden.
the lovely aquamarine of the lake just outside my window.
the chocolate milk that lets me turn my regular coffee into “mocha.”
having met and loved B., no matter what happens.
my wise and wonderful sister.
my sobriety.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcoholic, alcoholic family, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, being thankful, dysfunctional family, family, family gathering, giving thanks, holiday, recovery, sobriety, thankful, Thanksgiving
Forgive us our trespasses.
I’ve got two that I’ll cop to right now.
#1: I lied.
Not only did I not throw away that pack of cigarettes I’d been smoking in NYC, I smoked them all (about one per night) and then bought another pack.
Look, I was desperate. And if you’d passed me on the road just after I’d bought my smokes, you’d have suspected something was up.
Imagine: a woman all Nike-bedecked for an athletic afternoon run, traipsing down a country road…smoking a cigarette. Just a wee bit incongruous.
But I was in this anxious frame of mind as I hadn’t been able to get to an AA meeting and I knew the walk would do me good. I also just wanted that extra little bit of calm the ciggies seem to provide. (Along with a spoken Serenity Prayer — in between puffs, of course.) So I packed $10 into my sock and headed out.
#2: I trespassed. Literally.
See, B.’s house, where I’ve been hanging out with my daughters, my Dad & his German girlfriend, along with B.’s family (all 6 of ‘em), sits on a lake out in the lovely Texas Hill Country. Getting there requires driving past lots of pastures and rolls of hay, all very picturesque this time of year.
During the past few days, I’ve had to leave our little oasis a few times, making short trips to get more Diet Coke or chicken stock or whatever. So I’ve used those opportunities to have a little meditative moment, aided by a Marlboro Light. Since I don’t want to get my car all smoked up, I’ve been stopping by the side of the road at various spots, and walking or resting there. Sometimes walking beyond barbed wire fences, into cow pastures, next to haystacks, etc.
Friday night, I stopped at a church, its driveway fence locked up. I climbed up over it and strolled around. Then I looked up at the lit marquee:
Don’t worry. God is in control.
I felt that my trespasses — at least these two — had been forgiven.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, family visit, not drinking, serenity, Serentiy Prayer, smoking, Thanksgiving
Thoughts on boats and Frank.
Last night, prior to going to dinner with our production company, I took a good walk along the marina and over to the community center where I wanted to attend a 6:45 AA meeting this morning. When I got back to the hotel, I rested out by the water for a bit, breathing in the fresh air and watching dusk turn to dark. And I started to think.
Who the hell owns all these boats?
There are what seem to me thousands of them. And we’re not talking dinghys, either. These are yachts, baby. And sleek, 50-foot-plus sailboats. “Her Baby.” “Finally.” “My Dreamboat.”
Who can afford these beautiful, blinged-out ships?
I know it’s L.A., World Headquarters of lifestyles of the rich and famous. But still. It all seems so excessive. Especially in times like these.
Anyhow – I gradually moved on from obsessing about boat ownership and on to preparing for the night ahead. If it went as I suspected it would (based on lots of past experience), there’d be bountiful cocktails pre-dinner, a never-ending flow of wine during, and some sort of sweet cordial after. Having not been to a meeting in more than a week, I knew I’d need some help with this expression of excess.
I offered up a little prayer for assistance, and then took a deep breath and said the Serenity Prayer. Out loud, out there by the water.
It felt good, and helpful.
And just then, a woman came rollerblading out of the night. She was shooting her middle finger toward the sea of boats, and stating, very simply and calmly, in time with her strides:
“Fuck you, Frank.”
skate. skate. skate.
“Fuck you, Frank.”
skate. skate.
“Fuck you, Frank.”
skate. skate. skate.
And then she was gone.
I couldn’t help smiling. We all have our ways of dealing with our shit. Mine is working so far. And from what I could tell during that brief scene, hers seemed to be working for her.
Yeah. I quietly agreed.
Fuck you, Frank.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, dealing, drinking triggers, getting sober, recovery, serenity prayer, sober travel, sobriety, staying sober, travel
What’s yer poison?
I have a dear friend who discovered she had celiac disease about two years ago. If you’re not familiar with the disease, those who have it can’t eat anything that contains gluten — a protein in wheat, barley and rye.
Their bodies can’t process the protein and have an abnormal immune reaction, and this can lead to malnutrition, diabetes, thyroid and liver disease (to name just a few problems), and even intestinal cancer. In short, it can be life-threatening.
To stay well, people with celiac disease must avoid gluten for the rest of their lives.
That means no partaking of the obvious suspects: bread, pizza, pasta, cereal, cookies, cakes – you name it. In short, the staples of many Americans’ diets — including mine.
Gluten is also frequently a hidden ingredient in plenty of not-so-obvious foods: sauces, soups, mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup, soy sauce, ice cream, toothpaste – even lip balms, medicines, vitamins, stamps and envelopes. It can even be found in foods that don’t contain gluten, when oils, grills, utensils or other cooking devices get contaminated.
And I thought I had it bad.
I just have to not drink alcohol to stay well. It’s easy enough to spot that offending substance. And even though it often seems to me like alcohol is everywhere and unavoidable, I think keeping gluten-free might be a tougher challenge than keeping alcohol-free.
Not to minimize the struggle we alcoholics face in our daily lives. But it did help put things in perspective when my friend empathized with my complaint about how difficult it was proving, in the earliest days of my sobriety, for me to avoid alcohol.
She told me that people say to her, “Oh, just have a little bite.” “Have one cookie. What can it hurt?”
They don’t realize the potential for disaster.
I’m thankful that she discovered her disease and how to combat it, just as I am thankful for Alcoholics Anonymous as a way to battle mine. I’ve become more aware of people suffering from celiac disease, and I try to make sure there are options for her when we choose a restaurant for dinner, or when I have her over for a meal or party. Likewise, she’s been understanding and adaptive to my forbidden substance.
Plus, we can always commiserate about the fact that neither of us can drink beer.
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Tags: AA, alcohol-free, alcoholic, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, avoiding alcohol, celiac disease, first days of sobriety, gluten-free, not drinking, recovery, sobriety
I love NBC’s “The Office.” And this Thursday’s show had me laughing out loud.
If you’re not a fan, I won’t try to defend the show to you. You either get it, or you don’t. For the writers, no subject is too taboo for source material: Homosexuality. Racism. Sexual discrimination. Cancer. Obesity. Even alcoholism, which just happened to be the inspiration for this week’s episode.
“Moroccan Christmas” has Meredith, the resident alkie, getting smashed and lighting herself on fire during the Dunder Mifflin holiday party, prompting manager Michael to stage an intervention.
Now, I’ve been drinking for almost 30 years and I’m just edging up on 60 days of sobriety. And while I’ve never lit myself on fire, I’ve done enough equally stupid things in my alcoholic career to be able to recognize some of myself in Meredith’s over-the-top character. And you know what? It made me laugh. A lot.
Mainly because that old cliche about “I had to laugh, otherwise I’d cry” just held true for me in this instance.
I laughed when Michael likened an intervention to a surprise party. I chuckled when the Dunder Mifflin shotglasses planned as staff gifts got nixed. (I’ve got my own collection of shot glasses that in my sobriety now seems at once ludicrous and funny.) And I giggled while watching the end of “deleted scenes” clips online, where you can see Michael label himself a “chocoholic” and propose that maybe he needs an intervention, then reconsider and remark, “Alcohol is very serious…and chocolate…just tastes good.”
It was all in keeping with the show’s style of humor, which trades in the awkward, uncomfortable and politically incorrect. And to me, a card-carrying alcoholic, it was funny.
By the way, if anyone knows where I can get a Dunder Mifflin shotglass, it’d be a nice addition to my collection…
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AA chips: Collect them all!
On Tuesday, I went to an AA meeting and collected this chip to mark my second month of sobriety — 60 days of not drinking.
When I type that, the length of time seems so…short…minor…insignificant. Yet it also seems huge, and like an eternity.
At this particular AA group (one of several I attend), each person who has a sobriety “birthday” that month writes it up on a chalkboard in the meeting room. There are names up there with dates in the 1960’s, before I was even born. To have 40+ years of sobriety seems unfathomable to me. I can’t imagine going to a meeting in 2048 and getting a 40-year chip. I’m not sure if such a thing even exists. If it does, what does it look like? Hmmm….I’m thinking platinum, with two ginormous, diamond-encrusted “A’s” in the center. Yeah…something to make even the most blinged-out rappers envious.
Now, I know it’s just a number, and I know that no matter how many hours or days or years or decades of sobriety each of us AA’s has, we all start each new day in the same place. “One Day at a Time,” right?
But I have to admit that with every addtional day of not drinking that I have under my belt, I seem to become that much more determined not to screw up my “record” thus far. I don’t know why I feel that way, or if it’s even a good way to look at it. After all, I’ve heard “Progress, not perfection” enough times, and I don’t want to set myself up for a big fall, if I should ever fall. But this idea is working for me right now, so I’m gonna go with it.
So I’m determined to keep on collecting those chips. ‘Cause damn if I don’t want the entire set.
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Tags: AA, AA 2-month chip, AA birthday, AA chips, AA meeting, alcohol-free, alcoholics, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, milestone, not drinking, recovery, sobriety, sobriety birthday, sobriety date
It’s the gift that keeps on giving.
It made me happy to stay up late wrapping presents, setting out Santa’s cookies and carrots for his reindeer.
It had me waking up early, hangover-free, and ready to face a crisp, cool Christmas day.
It’s brought me some nice new friends, a new appreciation for my old ones, and a new outlook on life.
And I’d like to give it away.
My sobriety is such an incredibly wonderful thing. And I hope to encourage anyone out there who might be considering getting sober as a New Year’s resolution or just a new resolution — do it. It’s tough, but so worth it.
How to do it?
Go to an AA meeting. Go to another. If you’re scared to go, or think you might not like the people you see in an AA meeting, don’t worry. The people I’ve met in AA are the nicest, kindest, most welcoming and understanding folks on the planet. Seriously. But if you feel you don’t fit in at that meeting, find another. Trust me, you’ll find one where you feel more at ease, and eventually you’ll feel at home.
They’ve got the same gift, and they know the only way to keep it is to give it away – to pass it on, to pay it forward.
Even if you stumble, if you fall off the wagon, don’t worry. You can still pick yourself up and get that sobriety back. Unlike so many presents out there in the malls and big box stores right now, it’s not a limited time offer, and supplies will last.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
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Tags: AA, alcohol abuse, Alcoholics Anonymouse, alcoholism, Christmas gift, first AA meeting, getting sober, New Year's resolutions, recovery, regifting, sobriety
Naked and anonymous.
I’ve never been one of those people who feels comfortable parading about my gym’s locker room au naturel. Even back when I looked a bit more buff in the buff (many moons ago) I still wore my workout clothes home from Spa Lady Fitness and showered in the privacy of my own cramped bathroom. If for some reason I had to rinse off at the gym, I made sure to bring a big beach towel for extra coverage.
I just don’t like baring my body, with its oddities (like the 6-inch splenectomy scar that vertically divides my torso) and imperfections, to strangers. I can’t say the same for the women at the Y where I swim.
These ladies are unabashed in their bare-nekkidness. They let it all hang out. ALL of it. Sometimes it’s startling. Often, it’s unsettling. But clearly they feel at ease with who they are, and comfortable in their skins – no matter how stretched or wrinkled or dimpled. So I have to hand it to them.
Likewise, I applaud all the AA’s who share their stories, their troubles, and their victories in meetings. It takes a bit of guts to speak out in a roomful of strangers and tell your deepest, darkest secrets.
The first time I talked in a meeting, I was nervous as could be — and yet, also very eager. Afterward, I felt this immense sense of relief wash over me. And when someone came up to me after that meeting and welcomed me and thanked me for sharing, it felt very comforting. It helped me to realize I wasn’t an awful person. My story and situation weren’t that uncommon. Most of all, I realized I wasn’t alone.
At the end of meetings, the person “chairing” it reminds us all that “everything you hear here, stays here” and the group confirms this with a resounding “Hear, hear!” Thus, the “anonymous” part of “Alcoholics Anonymous.”
Newcomers are encouraged to share often at meetings – I think for the very reasons I mentioned above. I think it also helps the not-so-newcomers and “old-timers” as well.
I’m constantly amazed by what I hear in meetings. Wisdom. Kindness. Humility. Humanity. And – thank heavens – humor. From the least expected sources come pearls that I can treasure and keep and use for my own recovery. The delivery, too, is often quite impressive. Sure, there’s always the inevitable rambling complaint or weepy confession. And then there are some damn fine and inspiring oratories – from the grizzled vet or the bleached blonde in the track suit. I guess if you come here long enough, you get to be a fairly good public speaker.
In my limited experience, I’ve found that it does get easier to reveal yourself. And as far as I can tell, unless you’re abusive or hateful in your speech, you can never say the wrong thing. Everyone accepts what you say, sometimes remarking on it when they themselves share, or acknowledging that it sparked a thought or insight for them. For me, it’s one of the beautiful things about AA; it’s certainly one of the things that keeps me coming back.
Now that I think about it, maybe it’s actually easier to reveal ourselves – literally or figuratively – in anonymity. It could be that the people we don’t know well might not judge us and our flaws as harshly as the people who do.
I’m still pondering this one. In the meantime, I’ll continue to bare my soul in my AA meetings. But I’m not quite ready to let it all hang out at the Y.
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I fell off the wagon.
Don’t worry – I didn’t start drinking.
I’m talking about the AA meeting wagon that I was riding. The one that was rolling along, carrying me so nicely and relatively smoothly through these first months of sobriety. Stopping at a morning meeting here…a lunch meeting there… About two a week, by my count.
I had the schedule nearly memorized, and things were going well.
Until…right around the holidays, I just kinda tumbled off. Or hopped off, really. Maybe I thought I could walk by myself for a while, I’m not sure. In any case, the wagon rolled away, slowly….and while I could have easily caught up and climbed back on with a little bit of effort, I didn’t.
Which means that until today, my last AA meeting was just before Christmas. And while I made it through the holidays okay (translation: sober) without going to one, I know now that I really could have used a meeting or two or twenty during that period.
I finally made it to a 9:30 meeting today, Sunday morning.
I hadn’t been to this particular meeting before, and as I drove up to the parking lot, I noticed it was jam-packed. I’d been to weekday morning gatherings at this spot before, with 15 people at the most in attendance. So this surprised me. What was going on? Had I gotten my info wrong? Was some other event happening at the location?
I somewhat hesitantly entered the hall outside the meeting room, and heard the familiar words of the Twelve Traditions being read. I slipped in the door…and squeezed into one of the last available seats. There were probably 100+ alcoholics there in the room. My biggest meeting yet. Wow.
It took about a minute before I felt that sense of familiarity, of relief, of safety, of peace — wash over me. It felt damn good. I realized what I’d been missing.
And of course, as always happens, the discussion hit on the exact themes I needed to hear. Though I’m not doing her words justice here, I especially loved what M., the woman next to me, said:
While J. was talking just now, I was thinking about a lamp I got for Christmas. [LAUGHTER] I love it and it’s gorgeous, but it doesn’t really do a thing for me unless I plug it in and turn it on. Then I get something out of it. I plug it into the wall, and it connects to this power that I don’t necessarily understand, but that I know works, and I get light. I can try to do stuff in the dark, on my own, but things are much better when I plug in and have this light to help me see the way.
Well. There you have it. I wasn’t plugging in. I haven’t been connecting to that power. I wasn’t riding that wagon, with my fellow AA’s, to those meetings. Whatever metaphor you use, the simple truth is that I’d been taking my sobriety and the AA program for granted, and I hadn’t been working it.
At the end of each AA meeting, we all join hands and recite The Serenity Prayer or The Lord’s Prayer, and then end by stating: “Keep coming back. It works if you work it.”
If you work it.
If you work it.
This morning, I hopped back on that wagon. It feels good to be on board. I’m along for the ride. And I’m working it.
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When I heard the news about the US Airways flight that crashed into the Hudson River yesterday, I was amazed to learn that every single person had made it out safely. Wow.
I watched the reporting for a bit, then went to sit outside on my porch.
I looked up at the crisp blue sky and offered up a big thank you. A thank you to…well…I’m not sure, really.
I just kept looking up, giving thanks for the safe and swift rescue of everyone on board, and for the calm, cool heads and bravery of the pilot, the flight attendants, the passengers and their rescuers. Apparently, no one panicked, and everyone did just what you’re supposed to do “in the unlikely event of a water landing.”
And then, after a few minutes, I began to ponder what I might have done, had I been one of those passengers.
Let me note here that I am an extremely nervous flyer and was raised a Catholic, but pretty much abandoned that faith in college.
Which means there have been moments, like during turbulent flights through thunderstorms over Texas, when I’ve been so terrified that I bowed my head and clasped my hands (or those of the bewildered passenger next to me) to chant numerous “Hail, Mary”s or “Our Father”s.
Force of habit, I suppose. Yet I always felt slightly hypocritical afterward. I didn’t pray to or find solace in God when I wasn’t fearing for my life, after all. Did I really believe, in that moment, in a Higher Power? Or was it just a reflex, a reaction conditioned by years of Sunday morning masses and CCD classes?
And what would I do now? Now that I’m working the AA program, which has me contemplating my spirituality and faith and the idea of a “higher power” on a regular basis? To whom would I turn? How would I pray?
You see, as I conclude my third month of sobriety (I got my 90-day chip today!), I’m also working the Third Step of Alcoholics Anonymous with my sponsor, L.
I have finished Steps One and Two, during which I admitted I was powerless over alcohol and that my life had become unmanageable, and came to believe that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.
Now, I am preparing to make a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand him.
During the past 89 days, as I’ve attended AA meetings and met with my sponsor and heard many, many mentions of God or a Higher Power, I’ve been mulling it all over in my head a great deal.
One of the things I love about Alcoholics Anonymous is the tolerance and acceptance of its members. I’ve read and heard criticisms of the program that maintain that it’s primarily a Christian organization, with an exclusionary undertone to its philosophy and literature. I don’t find that to be the case at all. I’ve never experienced anyone condemning or proselytizing in any way, at any time, at any AA-related event.
For this, I’m thankful. I’m also thankful that AA is helping me grow into a more spiritual person, and that I have the freedom to discover and define (and redefine, if need be) my own Higher Power. If I choose, my HP can be God, or Allah, or Mother Nature, or the Universe, or the AA Program, or The Force from Star Wars. It can even be, as it was for my sponsor’s father, a little stuffed animal he christened “H.P.”
The name or form of my own HP doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have faith and follow the steps. Besides, at this point, I couldn’t really define my Higher Power for you in so many words. I just know it’s out there, and it seems to be working.
And if I had been on that plane yesterday? Who knows. That old Catholic reflex might have kicked in, prompting me to recite — white-knuckled – endless repetitions of “Our Father” and “Hail Mary.” Or maybe I would have chanted The Serenity Prayer. Or (as I’ve been known to do in the past) maybe I would have sung old Barbra Streisand songs. I’m not sure.
But of this I am sure: after all was said and done, and I was safe and sound, I would be offering up one ginormous thank you to my HP. And then, all shaky and wobbly and weak, I’d pray again for help…to keep me from taking a drink.
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Sobraiku #4
one green plastic coin
three months of serenity
cheap at any price
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What’s wrong with being sober?
I loved President Obama’s inaugural address. Absolutely loved it. I thought it was just what our nation needed to hear. It was thoughtful. Strong. Smart. And yes, sober.
In fact, when I Googled the word “sober” today, at least three of the top 20 results were news stories about Tuesday’s inauguration. From what I’ve seen, I estimate 75% of the headlines about his speech use the word “sober” or some variation of it.
It’s certainly one of the adjectives I’d use to describe his address – and I think that’s a good thing. However, the way most writers use it, the word carries a negative connotation.
David Axelrod, President Obama’s top political advisor, called Tuesday’s address a “sober speech but also a hopeful speech,” as if the two were mutually exclusive. Jerry Seib, Executive Washington Editor of the Wall Street Journal, also called it sober, noting how the tone contrasted with what he described as Obama’s typically poetic and inspirational speeches.
The thing is, I found it not only poetic and inspirational, but very hopeful.
Maybe I’m particularly sensitive to the descriptor “sober,” becase it’s what I’ve been for the past three months – in the sense of abstaining from drinking alcohol. And while getting and staying sober is indeed a serious undertaking, it doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it, or not having fun, or that I’ve lost my sense of humor.
On the contrary.
I’ve chuckled and laughed my way through many an AA meeting, enjoying the quips and quotes and self-deprecating humor of my comrades in alcohol-freedom. And though I feared my wit might slip without a wineglass in hand (and wine lubricating my mind), I’ve found it to be even sharper in its unaided-by-alcohol state. And let me tell you, my sober mornings are a happy and wonderful improvement over the suffering, somber, sedate hungover sort.
In my last post, I made an analogy about our country being like an alcoholic embarking on recovery – sobering up after years of excess and lack of direction and purpose. So I was pleased to hear the President speak of our country’s need to rally together, to take responsibility and do the hard work necessary to get America back on track. Like alcoholics who truly want to stop drinking, we’ve got to get with the program.
Today, thanks to my program — the AA program — I am sober…and lighthearted. And happy. And hopeful. And inspired.
To me, sober is a good thing – and a good, positive word. Maybe someday others will see it that way.
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Here comes a regular.
Everybody wants to be someone here
Someone’s gonna show up, never fear
’Cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?
—Here Comes a Regular, The Replacements
About three years ago, before I went to Alcoholics Anonymous the second time around, I decided that I wanted to become a regular at my favorite restaurant/bar, a fabulous little Italian trattoria within walking distance from my house. I loved the food, and they had a small bar and — most important of all — a friendly wait staff. I’d been there often enough, and I figured if I just stepped up my attendance a bit more, the free drinks and appetizers would soon be bestowed upon me.
I could imagine myself strolling in on a Tuesday night, being greeted warmly and immediately served a glass of my favorite wine. Sort of like a more upscale version of “Cheers” — the chorus of “Norm!” replaced with my name, of course.
I recall (vaguely) one particularly boozy night, when I downed about 4 glasses of wine in a little over an hour. I think I droned on about my work and romantic woes ad nauseum to my very tolerant server. I made it home safely, but couldn’t bring myself to go back for a few weeks.
When I finally returned, I sheepishly apologized to my waitress for my drunken ramblings. She suprised me by saying that I hadn’t seemed that bad. I’m not sure I believed her.
I never really became a regular, and I’m glad. I would have hated to embarrass so badly that I couldn’t return, given how much I love the food and atmosphere there.
Now, I’ve focused my energies on becoming a regular elsewhere…
Newcomers to Alcoholics Anonymous are encouraged to attend 90 AA meetings in 90 days. I made it to about 60 in my first three months. It was more due to a failure to manage my time than a failure to find meetings to attend — there are 450+ each week in my city.
I noted in my first post that I had tried AA about 13 years ago, and it didn’t take. Or rather, I didn’t take. I didn’t take the time to investigate more than one meeting, and when I found that particular one not to my liking after a few visits, I gave up.
This time around, I’ve been quite the sober social butterfly, flitting around from meeting to meeting, up north and down south, all over town. I’ve now got three that I like to go to on a regular basis, where I enjoy the vibe and feel that I’ve at least a little in common with most of the people in the room.
I highly recommend this sampling method to anyone just starting out, like me. It’s a good way to understand that alcoholics come in every shape, size and socioeconomic status, and to recognize that you are not alone. There are handy online resources for finding meetings in your city or town, and you’ll likely be surprised at how many are available.
There’s a very small meeting I go to sometimes early on Wednesday mornings, with about six in attendance on a banner day. I love the people, and it’s beginning to feel like home. It’s also the meeting where I was lucky enough to find my sponsor.
Best of all, everyone knows my name.
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Lead me not into temptation.
Does anyone besides me find it a cruel joke that Girl Scout Cookies go on sale at the beginning of the year? Here it is, right after most of us have solemnly sworn to cut back on sweets or to lose weight or to stop contributing to the Capitalist indoctrination of little girls. And those damn cookie stands have sprung forth in front of every shopping center and on the corner of every major intersection in my neighborhood. That can only mean one thing: At some point, I will succumb to the Thin Mints.
But that’s nothing compared to the other temptation that now beckons, mere blocks away.
A few months ago, the mega-shoestore in our neighborhood shopping center went under, and that retail space has remained empty, save for the month it held a Halloween costume/decoration store. Several weeks ago, though, construction crews appeared. In the blink of an eye, stained concrete floors were poured, display cabinets and shelves and light fixtures went up, and a hardwood bar was installed.
And then, it happened: the Grand Opening of The Mother of All Wine & Liquor Stores.
I have to say, it’s a thing of Beauty. Yes, Beauty with a capital “B.”
When I walked by it en route to my grocery store, on a Sunday night, its doors were closed, but the ambient lighting gave a glorious glow to the store’s contents: walls and walls of wine (my personal choice of poison), charming little bistro tables and chairs, and a perfectly polished tasting bar. I stood and stared at the magnum of Veuve Cliquot proudly perched on one corner of that bar. The way my nose nearly pressed against the sparkling window, I imagine I looked like an awestruck kid who’d just discovered Willy Wonka had set up shop in her hometown.
I started writing this post thinking how the timing of this store’s appearance just steps from the grocery store I frequent several times a week was also a cruel joke, right now when I am a scant 3 months into my sobriety. And yet, upon reflection, I’m glad it appeared now, rather than, say, 4 months ago. Heaven knows how often I might have found myself browsing the wine racks, or how I might have befriended the staff, asking for their latest recommendations. It would have made it all too easy, and more enticing and enjoyable, to continue drinking my nightly bottle of wine. Not that my grocery store doesn’t have a respectable wine section. But I think this new store somehow would have helped keep me in denial, by encouraging the delusion that my wine habit was more about taste and connoisseurship.
I’ve yet to step inside the place, though I want to, mostly out of curiosity and a desire to admire the aesthetics. I honestly don’t think I’d be tempted to belly up to the tasting bar or to buy a good bottle of Bordeaux. Still, it’s just too close, and too soon.
So for now, bring on the Thin Mints.
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Tags: AA, AA meeting, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, being sober, recovery, sober, sobriety, staying sober, temptation, temptation to drink
AA Meetings: the pie chart
Just a little light-hearted AA humor to start the weekend off right.
TGIF.
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An open love letter to AA.
Dear AA,
At the risk of getting all mushy and corny, I wanted to tell you what a difference you’ve made in my life.
You’ve opened the door to a better understanding, acceptance and appreciation of myself.
Through you, I’ve met many incredibly wise, loving and very human people. You’ve helped me start to make my existing relationships better and more honest.
You have encouraged me to do difficult things. I know you will continue to ask me to do what’s hard, and though I may not like it, I know that if I do these things, I will be the better for it.
You don’t judge me. You’ve shown me how not to judge others. (Though I still do…but I’m working on that.)
You’ve helped me to be present, to live more in the moment. (Once again, I still have a lot of work to do here.)
You’ve given me serenity.
Through you, I’ve learned a lot, and I know it’s just the beginning. I’m looking forward to our future together, as our relationship deepens and evolves.
Thank you for guiding me. Thank you for being there.
Above all, thank you for giving me hope.
With love,
C.
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Help! I need somebody…
My neighbor T. asked for my help last week. Her partner was away on a business trip, and in order to make two early morning appointments, she needed me to give their two kids a ride to school on Tuesday and Thursday. No problemo, I said.
T. told me that when her partner learned T. had asked for my help, she said, “Uh-oh, now we’re going to owe her.”
I could empathize completely. I don’t like debts hanging over my head, either. As it turned out, though, I also needed a favor: “T., could you give my girls a ride on Wednesday morning? There’s a 7:00 meeting I want to go to. And that way, we can call it even.”
Boom. Done.
I’ve always had a hard time asking for help. As I noted above, I didn’t/don’t like the feeling of being beholden to someone. I know that many people offer help with no expectation of receiving something in return, yet I can’t help but be wary and worried that no matter what is said, I’m still expected to reciprocate, and that I might not be able to do my part when the time comes. It was actually somewhat of a relief to hear that my neighbor’s partner, a wise and wonderful woman whom I adore, seemed to have her own little hang-up about help — just like me.
I do know that eventually I’ll be able to offer my help without reservation to my fellow AA’s, giving out my phone number as easily as I agreed to shuttle the neighbor’s kids to school last week. It may take a while, though. Last week’s favor felt like nothing major. Committing to being there when an alcoholic calls for help seems so much bigger to me, and I’d hate to overpromise and underdeliver.
Another thing that’s kept me from seeking help in the past is my consummate control freakiness. (If that’s not a term, consider it coined.) In my oh-so-brilliant brain, I tend to think that I, and only I, am The One Who Can Do It All. I feel I can’t depend on others, can’t trust anyone to help. Pretty damn arrogant, eh?
Now, after being in the AA program for four months, I’ve learned that it’s okay to want help. To need help. To ask for help. After all, that’s what AA is there for. It took me a while to realize this. I was astonished at my first few meetings — once people learned that I was a newcomer — how many phone numbers were written down on slips of paper and pressed into my hands. I didn’t really believe that these complete strangers were really willing to answer my call “anytime,” as they claimed.
I put that offer to the test when I went on my girls’ trip to NYC, back in November. I did a “trial run” before I left, and called one of the AA women. She answered promptly, and I told her it was my “practice call.” I just wanted to get comfortable with calling someone – before I actually needed help. Turns out I didn’t need to call anyone on that trip, but it was so good to know I could have.
I’ve also gotten more comfortable with asking another someone/something for help: my Higher Power. It doesn’t come naturally yet, but I imagine that with a bit more practice, it will become a reflex.
On Friday, I’m going to take a “Third Step Hike” with my sponsor. We’re going to a hilly little state park near town, a place that I love for its beauty and serenity, and I’m going to offer up my troubles and turn my life over to my yet-to-be-defined Higher Power. I like that we’re making somewhat of a ceremony of it – taking that step in a meaningful, memorable way. I’m hoping the experience will stay with me, a constant reminder that help is out there….I just have to ask for it.
When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.
But now those days are gone, I’m not so self-assured
And so I’ve changed my mind, I’ve opened up the doors…Help! – The Beatles
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Tags: 12-Step Program, AA, AA meeting, AA program, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, asking for help, help, higher power, recovery, sobriety, Step 3, Third Step
You are not alone.
The "Third Step Tree"
I wasn’t reassured when I first heard those words, “You are not alone,” uttered as a reassurance.
To be honest, it kind of creeped me out. It sounded like something The Smoking Man would tell Molder on “The X Files.” As if aliens or (even scarier) the government were constantly watching me, tracking my every move, examining my every thought. Chalk it up to an overactive imagination and too many pre-teen afternoons spent with old issues of “Fantasy & Science Fiction” on my grandmother’s sunporch.
The phrase was meant, however, to let me know that as a newcomer to sobriety and the Alcoholics Anonymous program, I was going to be okay. That my case wasn’t unusual. That there were many others like me out there struggling with alcoholism. And that I didn’t have to go it alone — there were plenty of resources at my disposal, if I just knew where to look and whom to ask.
I posted earlier this week about my difficulties seeking and asking for help. And on Friday, I did something very alien to my control freak nature: I let go of everything and asked for all the help in the cosmos. I took the Third Step and surrendered to my Higher Power.
It was quite a lovely experience – my AA sponsor and I had a picnic and took a hike in a nearby state park. The afternoon was bright and hot, and the park very serene and empty — except for an amazing array of flora and fauna that seemed to be greeting and guiding us. (There goes my overactive imagination again…) A Texas spiny lizard scurrying along the rocks paused to watch us as we first embarked on the trail. Then I spied a magnificent red-tailed hawk watching from its perch in a nearby tree. A. and I both stopped and stood looking up quietly. It flew off when I moved closer to get a better look (with thoughts of snapping a picture, because of course I had my camera with me). But it wasn’t the last we saw of it.
As we continued on our journey, we saw shy turtles, a brilliant cardinal, a pair of woodpeckers, and a bevy of butterflies fluttering from blossom to blossom among flowering trees. We reached a bend in the path, which led us up a hill. At the top was a clearing with a smooth-barked tree — I think a crepe myrtle — just beyond. At this spot, by what A. & I shall hereafter refer to as “The Third Step Tree,” we stopped and sat to say the Third Step Prayer.
God, I offer myself to Thee–to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always.
And then, we just got quiet.
I listened. I looked around. I lived in the moment.
A. & I saw that hawk again — or at least we figured it was the same one, circling overhead, making lazy loops in the big Texas sky. Standing there in the sun, I didn’t feel alone at all. I felt connected, part of the universe, happy and loved and reassured.
I was not alone.
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Showing off my talents while drunk on my Senior Ski Trip.
This weekend, I’ll be traveling back in time to the era of Rick Springfield, Reaganomics and Princess Di.
I’m leaving this morning for Virginia to attend an impromptu high school reunion. My two BFFs from high school and I are making a girls’ weekend of it. We’ve kept in touch over the years, but it’s been 25 years since I’ve seen a lot of the classmates who’ll be attending. It’s gonna be interesting, to say the least.
I spent my middle and high school years in a beach town, which made for a lot of fun during the summer, as you might imagine. There’s something about the combination of surf, sand and sun that just screams “Party!” And in my experience, no self-respecting party was complete without booze.
While I had my first encounters with alcohol at a much younger age (more on that in a later post), I consider 10th grade to be the true start of my drinking career.
I remember how it all began: after a football game, a big group of us were heading to a little beach on the Chesapeake Bay to hang out — and drink. I can’t recall how I got there, but I remember with absolute clarity trudging up the sandy path to the water with the crowd, when one of the Popular Girls walking nearby snapped a cold can of beer from the plastic of her dangling six-pack and handed it to me.
The fact that I had received some of the coveted booty without even asking, and that it’d been bestowed upon me by such a person, thrilled me beyond belief.
I immediately popped open the can, while we were still about 50 yards from the water. I had finished it by the time we got to the water’s edge.
That sophomore year was a constant stream of post-football game partying on Friday nights. Pitchers of watery beer at the corner Pizza Hut were the drink of choice, usually purchased by a kindly older brother or sister. (Back then, the drinking age was 18.) Mogen David Grape Wine or Boone’s Farm Tickled Pink — names that make my stomach lurch — were also favorites, purchased from a convenience store with fake IDs.
My junior year brought even more drinking, as I graduated to the “hard stuff.” Bourbon mixed into a Coke Slurpee from 7-11 was a standard. I started sneaking a few ounces of vodka from my dad’s supply every now and then, carrying it to school in an empty pump-spray hairspray bottle. Even mixed with orange juice, it tasted kind of perfumey, but it did the job.
By this time, keg parties at the homes of kids with “cool” parents were all the rage. Now that I’m a parent myself (though my girls are still in elementary school), I am appalled at this. What were they thinking? Yet those kids lucky enough to have such seemingly enlightened parents saw their popularity soar among their peers.
My own parents were largely absent during all of this. During my sophomore year, my dad was usually passed out on the sofa when I got home, and my mom asleep or sequestered in her bedroom. They divorced by my junior year, so then I just had to run the gauntlet with my mom. She was easy enough to fool — I kept a toothbrush, toothpaste and a supply of Big Red cinnamon gum handy, so I could inevitably pass the breath test she’d administer upon my arrival home.
By my senior year, I was drinking most every weekend, and often during the week, and sometimes even during school. That old pump hairspray bottle stayed filled and in my locker for nips throughout the day. From football games to proms to beach parties to concerts to an afterschool MTV-watching session, no event was ever a sober experience for me. I was always buzzed, if not drunk.
That’s been my experience for the last 25 years: every event, big or small, called for a drink — until four months ago, when I decided to get sober and join Alcoholics Anonymous.
This Saturday night I’ll see many of the people that I partied with all those years ago. The organizer of the event, a surfer dude who seems never to have grown up, keeps sending out party updates on Facebook and via email:
LET’S GET THE BUZZ GOING!!!!!!!
AFTER HOURS PARTY BRING ALCOHOL!!!!
READY TO DRINK MY ASS OFF!!!!
I’d suspect these were written with a tongue-in-cheek attitude, if I didn’t know better. From the steady commentary posted on the party’s Evite and Facebook pages, many of these people still drink hard, and are planning to blow it out this weekend.
I’m not judging them at all – I could have counted myself among them (though I would have not broadcast my drinking intentions so publicly) mere months ago.
But come Sunday, I’ll be thankful that my morning will be blissfully hangover-free. I won’t be surprised if my stomach muscles hurt from laughing, though. Getting together with my BFFs means we’ll take many a trip down Memory Lane, recounting plenty of embarrassing stories and adventures from those days gone by when we were young and foolish.
I’ll also be counting my blessings, that I survived long enough to become old and foolish.
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Tags: AA, AA program, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, drinking, getting sober, high school drinking, high school reunion, life, not drinking, partying, recovery, sobriety, staying sober, travel, underage drinking
Spring cleaning, the AA way.
Calendars be damned. It’s been Spring in Central Texas for several weeks now.
I’ve already got a good crop of basil sprouting in my garden, and a tomato plant that’s about to swap its blossoms for fruit. What’s more, I already held my annual yard sale to purge our home of my daughters’ accumulated plastic junk and all those size four jeans I’ve finally acknowledged I’m never going to wear again in this lifetime.
I find it a happy coincidence that this season of removal and renewal finds me embarking upon the Fourth Step in the Alcoholics Anonymous program:
We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Now, back before I had started working the AA program, with my merely cursory knowledge of 12-Step programs, I used to think this step was about dredging up all bad stuff I’d done in the past while drinking.
I’m learning that Step Four is about much more than that.
Yes, making a list of the wrongs I’ve committed — while drinking or not — is part of it. But I’m also supposed to list my resentments. My fears. My guilty thoughts. My hates. My shameful feelings. My hang-ups about sex and love and life. I have to inventory the things inside me, the emotional baggage that I’ve accumulated over my 43 years and that I carry with me every day. (Needless to say, it’s gonna be a loooooonnnnnnnnng list.)
I was surprised to learn all this, especially the part about resentments. I believe I have enough of those to fill suitcase after suitcase:
I resent my parents for what they did to me. And for what they didn’t do.
I resent my superiors at work for not recognizing and rewarding my efforts.
I resent my friends for not reading my mind. For enabling my alcoholism. For not being tougher on me. For not being there for me as often as I would have liked.
I resent my ex for not communicating. For being afraid. For not fighting harder for our marriage.
I resent those people who took advantage of my alcoholism and emotional troubles, and used it for their own purposes without regard for me.
And last but not least, my emotional closet holds a sturdy little duffel bag jam-packed with resentments toward B., my boyfriend.
Of course, that’s just the view from 10,000 feet. As I zoom in and review my life, stage by stage, event by event, I know I’ll discover and uncover plenty that’s been hiding and lying dormant, stuffed and squeezed into the zippered pockets and nooks and crannies of my past.
People in the program say this is a tough step, and that AA’s procrastinate on Step Four more than any other. I’m eagerly embracing it, though. I know that the steps that follow this one will prepare me to have all these negative things taken away — like that Salvation Army truck hauling off the leftovers from my yard sale. Then, I’ll start getting ready to make amends, and to start anew.
I have heard over and over how resentments are so dangerous to the alcoholic, and I am beginning to understand why. It’s just not healthy to keep this stuff around. It doesn’t help to dwell on these slights and hurts, whether real or imagined or somewhere in-between. If anything, AA is teaching me to let go, and I’m ready to do just that, to chuck it all out.
To help me along, I keep rereading the passage in AA’s Big Book (p.66) that elaborates on resentments:
It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness. To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worth while.
A bit long to embroider on a pillow, but I have to admit that for me it is pretty damn inspirational.
No more squandering worthwhile hours for me. I’m off to make my lists, to clean house, to toss out some old baggage.
Anybody got a dumptruck I can borrow?
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Tags: 12-Step Program, AA, AA program, AA Step Four, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, change, Fourth Step, Fourth Step inventory, letting go, life, recovery, relationships, resentments, sobriety, spring cleaning
A trip worth taking.
Before I left for my high school reunion two weeks ago, I wrote a post about the trip and my formative years, and how integral drinking had been to my high school experience. And while I had no worries about staying sober during my visit to the past, I wasn’t sure what sorts of emotions the trip down memory lane might provoke.
As it turned out, my weekend was really good. I always love being around S. & K., my two BFFs who can get me laughing like few other people in this world. The evening before the reunion, we pored through our senior yearbook and reminisced late into the night.
The reunion itself was fun. I had already caught up with many of the people on Facebook, so there wasn’t much new news to share. It was good to see them in person, though, and see just how much some had changed, and how much others hadn’t.
Of course, there was the expected recounting of wacky high school hijinx, much of it alcohol-related, some of which made me cringe.
There were also a few other uncomfortable incidents that night. One woman who’d had a bit too much to drink was hanging all over her high school boyfriend, despite the fact that both were married now. And another woman, just two hours into the party, was stumbling around, tripping down stairs and slurring her words sloppily.
I felt embarrassed and sorry for her — and I couldn’t help but wonder how many times in the past people had felt that way about me.
The afternoon following the party, as my two friends and I sat outside enjoying the early afternoon breeze, S. said to me, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”
I braced myself.
“…I like you better sober.”
I looked at her.
I smiled.
“I like myself better sober, too.”
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Tags: alcoholism, change, drinking, getting sober, girlfriends, high school reunion, life, not drinking, party, recovery, sober, sobriety, staying sober, the past, travel, trip
A poem. A prayer.
I’ve got a thing for poetry, which means that today finds me especially happy, for April is National Poetry Month.
I’m also happy because it’s spring, and absolutely lovely in my neck of the woods these days. During times like these, when life feels so damn good, it’s easy enough to cruise along and let things slip. Like going to AA meetings. Working my program. And maintaining conscious contact with my Higher Power.
I was reminded of this last part at my morning AA meeting today, where the discussion centered around Step 11. I’ve only been praying and meditating haphazardly, so this morning’s discussion was a good kick in the pants to get me doing it on a more regular basis.
Now, being the geek that I am, I had already planned to share a poem with the group, in honor of National Poetry Month. Amazingly enough, the one I had chosen also fit the discussion topic. Huh. Go figure.
Thus, I’m happy to share this poem/prayer of thanks, from one of my favorite writers. It is a wonderful expression of the gratitude that I am feeling today, for many things.
i thank You God for most this amazing
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)-e.e. cummings
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Tags: AA, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, giving thanks, gratitude, happy, life, National Poetry Month, poem, poetry, recovery, sober, sobriety, thankful
Blue chip by the numbers.
Ain't it purdy?
October 16, 2008 is my sobriety “birthday.”
This week I picked up the lovely blue chip that marks my achieving six months of sobriety in the AA program.
After a bit of reflection, I thought I’d share some stats about the past six months of my life:
- 182 = alcohol-free evenings
- 182 = hangover-free mornings
- 100 = AA meetings attended (approximately)
- 55 = blog posts about getting sober
- 30 = bottles of sparkling water substituted for bottles of wine
- 12 = alcohol-free airplane flights
- 8 = crying jags
- 6 = months of sobriety in AA
- 4 = Step I’m working right now
- 3 = steps completed in AA’s 12-step program
- 1 = AA sponsor/friend/wise woman/guardian angel
- 0 = blackouts
- 0 = drunk driving episodes
- 0=drinking episodes I’ll regret
Thanks for reading and for your encouragement and support.
Keep coming back. It works if you work it. And you’re worth it.
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Tags: 12 steps, 12-Step Program, AA, AA 6-month chip, AA chips, AA meeting, AA sponsor, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, change, getting sober, journey, life, not drinking, recovery, serenity, sober, sobriety, staying sober
When my youngest daughter, E., was about two years old, she was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis, also called “NF.”
NF is a genetically determined disease that affects many parts of the body in many ways. It causes tumors to grow along the nervous system, and these can be benign or cancerous. Even the benign ones can be dangerous, as they can develop in a manner that interferes with or envelops vital tissue and organs.
There are three types of NF. My daughter has NF-1, which is surprisingly common: it occurs in 1 in 3,000 births. NF-1 can lead to disfigurement; blindness; skeletal abnormalities; dermal, brain and spinal tumors; loss of limbs; and malignancies.
NF also has all sorts of other disorders associated with it, from small stature (which E. has) to scoliosis (which she also has) to learning disabilities (which she may have – not sure about that one yet).
There are two things about NF that are particularly troublesome for me:
1) There’s no cure…yet.
2) It’s extremely unpredictable, and there’s no way for doctors to know with any certainty just how or when the disease will manifest itself in E, who’s now nine years old. We simply have to see each of her six specialists on a regular basis, get her annual brain and spine MRIs and her bi-annual x-rays done in a timely fashion, and then…see what happens.
She could be mostly fine for the rest of her life, and just have to deal with her scoliosis and some associated spinal problems.
Or, we may discover that one of the Unidentified Bright Objects (UBOs) revealed by her last brain scan has developed into a full-blown tumor. Or that the protective sheath surrounding her spinal cord — an abnormal swelling of which her 2007 MRI revealed — has ballooned out even more, causing her vertebrae to weaken and her scoliosis to worsen.
We were told by E’s pediatric orthopedist last week that, given her condition at this point, this second scenario is fairly likely, and that corrective surgery will probably be necessary at some point in the future. Trouble is, the surgical procedure typically done in such cases would be complicated and risky, because of this swollen spinal cord sheath.
Sitting in the examining room with E. and her dad as the doctor discussed this, I had to muster every ounce of concentration and willpower to STAY IN THE MOMENT and not go traipsing down the path of “What if?” I didn’t want to imagine E. in the near or distant future on the operating table, or recovering from major surgery, so very small and helpless and vulnerable.
So I stopped myself. I stopped the tears from welling up in my eyes and I looked at her and consciously appreciated how spunky and vibrant and very, very okay she was RIGHT NOW. I didn’t want her to see me upset. After all, there was nothing to be upset about at that moment. At that moment, everything was okay.
After the appointment, I chanted the Serenity Prayer over and over inside my head as I walked to my car, E.’s small hand clasped in mine. I hugged her tightly when I dropped her off back at school.
And then I cried for a little bit in my car as I drove to work. When I parked, though, I wiped my cheeks dry and took a deep breath.
I knew that I wouldn’t use this situation as an excuse to drink later that day. I knew I wouldn’t drink after our appointment with E.’s geneticist next week, either. Or after her next MRI, in the fall.
No matter how overwhelmed and powerless and scared and worried I was, I wasn’t going to drink. I didn’t have to drink.
I used to hear people say that in AA meetings and not understand what it meant. “You don’t ever have to drink again.” I’d never really thought of myself as having to drink. Just really, really wanting to drink and…not being able to stop.
But at that moment last week, I got it. I got it. I understood what those people had meant. I now had the tools and resources, thanks to the AA program, to get through whatever life handed me. I didn’t have to use any current troubles or potential problems as reasons to pop open a bottle of wine. I could stay in the moment — completely sober — and I would be fine.
And my worries and fears about E.? I can offer those up to my Higher Power, and ask for help. So I have. And I will continue to do so.
This is not to say that I won’t be plagued with periods of worry and stress and fear about E. and her future. I’m a born worrywort and control freak, so this is a given. But at least now I feel know that I have somewhere to turn besides the bottle — and something to do besides drink.
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Tags: AA, acceptance, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, getting sober, neurofibromatosis, recovery, serenity prayer, sober, sobriety, staying sober, surrender
Remembering.
Korean War Veterans Memorial, Washington, D.C.
Today I am doing what the majority of our American population is doing, hanging out in the sun having fun (albeit without alcohol), grilling, slurping down watermelon, etc.
But I’m also remembering a conversation I had with a young man on a plane the last time I had a drink, about seven months ago.
I was flying back home from a business trip, gulping down wine because, I told myself, I don’t like flying. I was making light conversation with the young man seated next to me. He was no more than 22 or 23, and in the army. He was coming home from a tour in Iraq – his third. I can’t recall where he had been stationed, or what his rank or job was, but as we got deeper into conversation, we went beyond the usual pleasantries and into a discussion of the unpleasant.
He told me some of the things he’d seen in Iraq – none of it fun in the sun, to say the least. I asked him how he coped with it (as I noticed he was drinking just a Sprite). He said lots of his fellow soldiers drank to excess or did drugs, but that he chose to abstain. I was in awe.
He showed me pictures of his little girl at home. Said he couldn’t wait to see her. He talked about his plans to complete his schooling when his tour of duty was done. He still had a few years left.
It was certainly a wake-up call for me. If this young man, self-assured but still so young, could do what he did – was doing – without the aid of something to numb himself, what was my excuse?
I feel for all the military and their families. I can’t imagine the sacrifices they make on a daily basis, and the stress and pain they endure. Today I am thankful to all of them.
And still in awe.
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…I made one.
And I dedicate it to my friend, A., who celebrates four months in the program today.
A. and I used to work together, and we ran into each other at a speaker meeting last night. I had wondered how long it would take for me to encounter someone from my crazy, dysfunctional work world. I’m truly surprised it took this long.
We shared a bit of our stories, and agreed to get together in the future for a meeting and then coffee/lunch/dinner.
I’m really thankful for our fortuitous meeting, and I’m very proud of and happy for A.
Congratulations. Enjoy your hangover-free Saturday, and your chip — best served with some local salsa and a virgin margarita.
Salut!
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Tags: 12-Step Program, AA, AA 4-month chip, AA chips, AA meeting, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, friends in sobriety, getting sober, journey, life, not drinking, recovery, relationships, sobriety, staying sober
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