38 going on 9

Hi All,

Today is Thursday. All here is going ok. It is not easy this business of being an adult, and being responsible, and being sober, and enjoying it. I can say that I am trying. I am trying hard to be the person that I want to be and to keep myself focused not on what I want, but on who I want to be. I memorized the Third Step Prayer which I will attempt to link to if I can figure out how to. This is not to get all AA crazy on anyone but just to show where I am at. I am working really hard on the spiritual principle of turning my will over to a power that is greater than me. My higher power. God. Or, in my case, some sort of hybrid of the God of my childhood and the Higher Power of my adulthood. I used to think that I could not mesh those two but I have come full circle with this and realized it is my God I am talking about--so it is just fine if it only makes sense to me.

I got thinking about this picture that I remember of my First Holy Communion. I was wearing this white dress and veil. I love this picture because I actually remember being really happy on that day. I remember feeling spiritually connected and special. I actually thought maybe I want to be a nun someday...no, I am not kidding. I was young but I got something on that day. I felt a taste of something divine within myself. As I grew up, I grew further away from that girl. It is funny that at 38 I find myself more like her than I was at 28 or even 18. I think maybe that girl is who I want to be again. The girl who was curious, spiritual, smart, wordy, and interested in everyone's story. That was Karen Anne and getting back to her was the distance that I have traveled in 30 years. All the way to Hong Kong I have traveled looking for someone else, something else, seeking.

Years of my life spent looking at other people. Studying their face, their personalities, their style, their intelligence, their family, their everything that was not me. Years spent contrasting and comparing. Years drinking and thinking about just who it was going to take, what special person I could find, that would make my life special, make me happy, excited, and ok. Was it this boyfriend? That boyfriend? Someone I hadnt met yet or might. Someone I let get away? Someone I could never really get? Somewhere I just knew that he was the answer. If I could just think harder, see things more clearly, talk to him a little longer I might just be able to figure this all out.
I wonder now when I look back why I was always so sure that everyone else had something that I didnt. What made them special and me--not? Maybe the wisdom is that we are each as special as we think we are. Or maybe we are all the same amount of special and it takes us all our own journey to figure this out. Some of us think we're less special, some think they are more, and eventually we all get to our right size--right along with everyone else.

I dont know where I am going with this really. Somewhere corny? Spiritual? All I know is that I am beginning to hear that girl that I thought I had lost. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her in my daughter but more often I hear her...right here, with me. She is not a stranger. She's been right here with me this whole time. It turns out that my true self...is not an alcoholic, not selfish, not mean, or sarcastic, or melodramatic.

Dont get worried. I am not doing any strange denial thing. I accept my alcoholism as part of me forever. I accept that I need to treat it and that I cant underestiamate its power to bring me down. To twist me up. I see so clearly today how much power it had in my life. How much power I gave it. I never got that part before--that I gave it all away. I never got that I always had something to give. I heard the other day an old familiar phrase: there are no victims, only volunteers. Amen to that. xxK

http://silkworth.net/aa/3rd.html

Growing Geraniums and other first times

Hi All. Here I am. Back from my own abyss of overthinking and into accepting my life for all of its joy and pain. I have recently embarked on a new hobby. Gardening! I love it. I feel like I have finally found what I have been looking for in a hobby. I like it, I like how I feel doing it, and it makes my life more beautiful. Gardening has it all. I feel like a kid in a candy shop.

I am lucky to have moved into a home that had a nice garden already so all I really needed to do was clean it up and add what I want. I havent done that much yet but I did get some Geraniums and have replanted them and they seem to be...yes, growing. I come home and check on them. My kids water them. It has only been a few days but so far they seem to be surviving my uprooting them from my friend's really beautiful garden and bringing them here. I think what sold me on them was the smell of the leaves so peppery and basil like and a little floral and just right. I love real scents.

I love real hobbies. I love doing things that bring me closer to the earth, closer to who I want to be. Writing about old friends or (more accurately} old boyfriends is just not for me. Not for the me that I want to be. That is the old me. Obsessed with drama, chaos, and too used to it to really notice it.

I notice it now though. I see it in my last two blogs. The over thinking, the ruminating, the inability to really see the big picture. It is hard to see the big picture when you are so used to only thinking of yourself. It is also quite simply a bad habit to think that I can just have any kind of relationship that I want with anyone I want and expect others to understand exactly why this works for me. I cant tell you how many hours I really obsessed on this, thought about it, felt self righteous anger over this. And then it happened...I realized I was wrong.

This is how long it took for me to realize this. About fifteen seconds. It took someone else (to protect the innocent I will just say someone very important to me)saying something to me about this and about fifteen seconds from when they said it for me to realize that not only was I wrong, I was also playing with my own very special brand of fire. I write this here because it is tied so tightly to my drinking, wound up around it, and in between all of the spaces. My own blind spots. The things about myself that I justify, the defects in character that I explain, the truths I manipulate for my own benefit.

These are familar skills for me. Skills I developed while slurping down my third cocktail and explaining how the glasses were small, or tomorrow was a slow day, or today was a good day, a bad day, I was too sad, I was too happy, I was alone, I was in love, my boyfriend was too something, my life was not quite something enough, it was something for sure to do with someone else, or something else--if I could just explain to you how hard, easy, sad, happy, or anything in between that I was then you would understand. The message was always the same. I deserve this drink. Let me tell you that true to my advertising roots I was always on message.

When I drank, I stayed on message about why I needed to or deserved to. I learned how to twist the truth around to suit my needs. I learned this without even knowing it. Unlearning it takes some serious fucking work. It takes being willing to make sacrifices for the people that you love. It means life, people, relationships dont always turn out just the way that I want. It means I need to accept what the Universe gives me and what it takes away too.
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For today, I have my little garden. It makes me happy to grow things instead of destroy them. It makes me happy to know that I am just a little bit closer to who I want to be today then I was yesterday. Hope you are too. xx

more on love, trust, and doing something different...

Hi All. I have been thinking about my last post since I wrote it. I almost deleted it actually because it is not only not good writing but I am not even sure it is good material. I wanted to write about it because it is bugging me, because the situation is under my skin and I think reflects my very real character defects more than it really reflects anything about anyone else at all.
The defects I see are as follows 1) self centeredness, 2) impulsivity, 3) not being able to feel grateful for what I have and instead focusing on what I dont have. The self centereded stuff is obvious. When you care about a person (or claim to) than it should not be hard to do what is right for them (right?). Impulsivity. I just want what I want and then I want it now. I want to email with my friend now. I want this and I dont want to think about what is best or be a good person or be a good friend. I just want things back the way they were before--before I had to take responsibility for not just myself but for other people too. I want it easy and (I guess) all about me. Lastly, the not being able to see what I have and instead focusing on what I dont. I could cry. So ridiculous is this particular defect. I should be happy and grateful that I am happy, healthy and doing well, that my family is, that my husband and kids are. I should not be wasting my time or energy on this. And yet I am. All I can think is that deep down I just am selfish. Selfish and immature.
In my defense, because this is my blog, I will say that my real sadness comes from my recent realization that not emailing with my friend is actually--really and truly--then end of our friendship. When you dont talk to a person on the phone, dont see them in person, then all that is left is email and when that is gone we are talking about a friendship where you dont communicate which really--is not a friendship at all.
I could go on and on about what I think about asking someone I love to end a friendship but I wont because it is 1) selfish and 2) stupid since it doesnt matter. In theory, I would never do this...probably because of my own pride and my own sort of maybe twisted view of trust and independence.
On some level, I do want to protect my friend, want to defend his choice, his relationship. I do think that you should not engage knowingly in behavior that hurts your partner. I do think we often need to prioritize our time and relationships and, I guess I need to admit, that the reality is not always as pretty as the theory. Sometimes we all feel scared, threatened, or unsure. Sometimes we all need reassurance and we need our partners to do what they can to help us. I'd like to think I am the kind of wife who respect my husband enough to end a friendship that made my husband uncomfortable, but I laugh writing this since I know that the odds of him feeling this way are slim to none. I dont know how I feel tonite as I write this. I guess I am back to just sad. The connection that I shared with my friend was real to me, not romantic, definitively platonic, but perhaps intimate--if that is the right word? I dont think that is the word I'd pick, maybe natural or just plain old someone I've known a pretty long time now so there is history, context--something I value and love in friends. Time. I miss that. I never really considered I'd lose it. Maybe that is my real regret. I was arrogant. I thought that I would always have a small piece of something, a small piece of a part of my life, a small piece of me as I used to be. I was wrong and that...that being wrong...it hurts. It hurst to lose a person unexpectedly. I am glad he is healthy and happy and he is not gone from the world but it is bittersweet that he is gone for me. XxK

Trust, Love, and Honesty

Hi All,
Strange and new topic for me tonite. So, here it is. A good friend of mine (who just happens to have once been a boyfriend too) just told me recently that he is choosing to not email with me anymore. The reason is because his fiance has been hurt by our friendship and thus continuing to email with me is continuing to hurt her. Not good. Not good at all. I felt so bad about all of this and still do. Not just because someone's feelings got hurt and that always sucks but because I have been in her shoes too. Not once but a few different times. I have been the person who had their feelings hurt and each time my then boyfriend never, not once, offered to stop communicating with the said offender. Me, being me, I never wanted to say what I wanted (ie stop talking to her) and so I sat and got hurt, and felt jealous, and built resentments and insecurities one after the other.
I know deep down that I absoluely must adhere to my friends request and yet I feel...sad. I feel the loss of a friendship that I very selfishly do not want to give up. I will give it up. I will do the right thing bc that is what sober and mature people do. Also, I really want my frend to be happy and I want his relationship to be strong and healthy. I do not for one second what to be part of anything bad or complicated bc that is not how my fe works anymore. What used to be always complicated has gotten much simpler. Do the next right thing. Right action equals Right thinking. So, I will blog and move on. We all need to grow up sometime I guess. Xx

Tough Love, Gentle Love, and everything in between...

Hi All,

Today is Wednesday. I write this as I sit staring at my half cleaned house, my phone next to me awaiting a call back, and my cat asleep in the sunny but dusty sunroom. I think, I should not be writing and then I keep writing because I need to get some stuff out of my head and into the light--however dusty it is.

As I have written before I have been pretty strung out on trying to figure out how to begin to care for my Dad. I know many many people go thru this and worse and so I feel not alone in this process but also not completely connected. I find myself wanting to scream sometimes out at the universe about how life is unfair, about how the economy sucks, about how hard my Dad has worked and how sick it is that his house has lost value not gained it--as he had planned. I think about how hard it is for him to accept help and how conditioned he has been to believe that needing help makes him weak. I want to tell him that we all need help sometimes but I don't. My words get stuck in my throat.

I look at him. So sad. So depressed. So seemingly hopeless. I want to cry for him and for me. For his suffering. For my suffering. I want to cry for the dreamy, happy, simple life that he planned for and assumed was his birthright. I want to cry for the entitlement, insensitivity, and rigidness of his thinking. I want to cry for the mental illness that causes him so much shame and renders him incapable of being the person that I remember as so capable--as so strong. I want to cry, but I dont.

I make phone calls. I try to look at the bright side. I sometimes do actually look at the bright side. I see physical health. I see life and family and love. I see abundance that is not financial. I think about how what we see determines everything. I think more about what I choose to see and what I leave out.

I go to meetings. I sit and listen to sober people getting thru it. I think of us all trudging along. Trying. I think how we are all on plan B at some point and what that means for each of us. I think none of us really planned for this--whatever it is. This life--the surprises (good and not so good), the pain, the joy in unexpected places, the love in unexpected places. I try.

I come home at night tired, hopeful, confused, determined--wondering how will this turn out? My Mom told me that the other day my Dad said this to her...that he was confused about where he would be? About how he would be? It made me a little sad, until I realized maybe we're all a little confused about that. We need faith, family, friends, and love. We need to remind each other that we are all in this together...a little uncertain, a little scared, but not alone. xxK

Love

Hi Friends,

Tuesday night. The last week has been really hectic. My Dad is in the hospital and (once again) I feel totally powerless and stuck in fear. I have been talking about it as much as I can but I admit that is not that much. I hate talking about it because I hate thinking about it. I want to pretend it is not happening but the truth is that cant. I try to pretend by sleeping or eating or not sleeping or not eating or wasting time on facebook or pinterest or even reading bad book but it is always there. My pain is always with me. My sadness is with me. My fear is with me. I spend so much energy trying to push it down and I only end up tired.

Last night I sat at a meeting and talked about Scotch. I was not a huge Scotch drinker but I oddly seem to equate this particular drink with total and pure annihilation and therefore seem to think of it when I want that. So there is my Scotch idea, picture, dream lingering in my head. I drive home considering how much work I do to not have this idea and yet, here it is. I quickly establish this is not a good thought. I pick up cell phone. I put down cell phone. I put on radio. I drive. I drive home thinking about why I am not calling anyone. I think about why I am thinking about a drink. I am sure of this one. I am thinking about a drink bc I am a recovering alcoholic who is scared and sad. That was simple.

I drive home. I know I will not have a Scotch, buy a Scotch, or even get close enough to one to smell it. Not today and hopefully not tomorrow either. I know there is no solace for me there, not really. I know that the simple solution I crave, the escape, the instantly better, the no more pain, the everything feels fine moment is one giant mirage for me. A mirage that leads me to pain, loneliness, shame, and a bottomless pit of self loathing. I know this all.

I think about how I need conscious contact with a higher power. I need a spiritual solution. I look at nature. I look at my kids. I think higher power. I feel not that much of anything. I talk to my sponsor later that night...I say I cant feel conscious contact and I am scared or I do feel it but not enough, not the way that I should, not the way that I want to feel it. I want to feel so much God or Higher Power that I dont feel anything else. I want a God binge. I dont think it works this way.

My Sponsor says that Faith is believing even when you dont feel it. It is remembering that you have and hanging on. I think this makes sense. It is anticlimatic but it makes sense. I have faith. I believe. I know I will feel again. I know my kids break thru my sadness. I know their smell and hair and skin is like my own special religion. I kneel down before them, before this warm house full of food, before this life full of love and sadness too. I kneel down and pray for an open heart, for love, for acceptance, for compassion--not just for me, but for you too. xxK

3 questions

Hi All, I heard these 3 questions last night at a meeting and I just had to get them down before I forget. Someone was suggesting that we write these three questions down on a paper and keep them with us at all times. Here they are: 1) Does it need to be said? 2) Does it need to be said now? and 3) Does it need to be me that says it? I thought these were such interesting questions to ask ourselves. Why? So often it seems I get myself into trouble by saying things that I later realize I ever needed even to be thinking about--let alone talking about.

What is my business and what is not? Where does it make sense for me to put my energy and where am I wasting my time? These three questions really distill this down. Why? Because it is true that often we do need to say something about our own feelings or thoughts. Often it is important to do this for our own process and so that other people can relate to us, but the key here is that I know that when I speak about my own experiences then it only can be me talking. Once I start getting involved with my opionions/comments/and theories about other people's lives and choices then I am defintely entering some murky waters.

The truth is that I am not sure I belong in those waters at all. Often times I fear I end up there bc my own waters are not looking terribly appealing and so rather then clean up my own water--I dive head first into your water and start figuring out what you need to do in order to get things back the way that I want them. It is funny thinking about it this way. It is funny to think how easy and quick it is to judge other people and get involved in their lives when really I have enough to deal with just handling my own life.

I am left to consider the realities of life and recovery. To me, the very essence of recovery is taking responsibility for my life and my choices. It means that I do not get to point the finger at someone else and blame them for my life. I just don't. I gave up that option along with the six pack and joint that went with it. I admit that sometimes I miss this safety blanket--I remember how comfortable it was for me there. All wrapped up and comfortable in my victim blanket. Warm and cozy. Safe from all of the introspection, thought, and growth that comes from taking responsibility for my life--I could have easily stayed there stuck and alone.

I admit it, it has not been easy to learn how to own my life. It has been hard and more often then I like to admit I find myself sliding easily into the blame someone else thinking. The only difference now is that I dont stay there so long. I get there to my victim place--look around and realize that I dont want to be there. I know better now. I hope you do too. xxK