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“A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” ...

Blood boiled in my veins. My spinning head felt hot. A rushing sensation in my tightening chest. No doubt about it, I was angry. I was on the edge of explosion. It was time to leave the house. ...

There are times when I think that I didn’t lose anything during my drinking, but the fact is that I didn’t lose anything big. I didn’t lose my job, my house, or my family. But there are things that I did lose: ...

I’ve suffered from migraine headaches most of my life. They started in puberty, though they weren’t immediately recognized or diagnosed. I can remember days in high school when I could barely focus because the pain was so strong. For years I thought that these episodes were shoulder and neck tightness, it wasn’t until I was in my 30’s that a doctor suggested that I pay close attention to where I first noticed the pain (in my temple) that I discovered that the stiff shoulder and neck were part of the migraine. ...

You may be expecting this to be a treatise on anonymity and social media or an argument for recovering out loud. It isn’t. Sorry to disappoint you. I’m writing to share my experience, so that you might avoid it if you’re newly sober. See, when I got sober, I didn’t give my social media much thought. I just started following people in recovery and tweeting from my original account. Same thing with Instagram. ...

February 27 Into the fabric of recovery from alcoholism are woven the Twelve Steps and the Twelve Traditions. – Daily Reflections: A Book of Reflections by A.A. Members for A.A. Members (Kindle Location 447). I really enjoy the phrase, “fabric of recovery.” This morning, I spent most of my meeting thinking about this phrase and struggling to put together coherent thoughts about it. There were many ideas that came to mind – connectedness, frayed ends, raw fibers, oneness – And I just couldn’t put it all together to share with the group. ...

My first experience with booze was pretty miserable. I was probably about 13 years old or so when a friend came over to my house while my parents were not home. Never one to miss an opportunity to misbehave, he suggested that we should get drunk. We locked my brother out of the house and proceeded to raid my parents liquor stash. In order to assure that they wouldn’t notice, my friend suggested that we take a little from each bottle and combine them all into a tumbler. Then we took shots. Imagine, if you will, a concoction that included (minimally) the following: vodka, bourbon, creme de mint, liquor 43, peach schnapps and possible tequila. It is a wonder I didn’t hurl on the first drink. We got good and drunk. ...

On Twitter, I’ve been fairly open about the fact that I’ve had some concerns with “the program” as of late. In meetings, I’ve said things like, “I’m not sure this program is right for me,” or “I don’t have a problem with a Higher Power, but I do have a problem with what the author wrote,” in reaction to readings from Daily Reflections. Over the past few days, I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think I’ve come to terms with what’s been niggling me. It’s true that I don’t have a problem believing in a higher power, or a God if that’s what you call it. I actually attend church on a relatively regular basis, though I will confess that there are things about it that get under my skin. What I have been struggling with is that I feel that there is an under current of fundamentalist evangelicalism in some of the AA literature that I’ve been reading. There seems to be a notion of “being saved” by a power greater than me – a notion of redemption. And that is exactly what doesn’t sit well with me. I posted this to StopDrinking on Reddit last night and got some good feedback. A few people suggested that perhaps I was reading too much into things. And maybe I am. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have never bought in to the idea of being saved. I believe too strongly in the idea of freedom of will and in personal responsibility to accept the notion that a higher power can “save” me. ...

Fourteen years ago today, I lost one of the best friends I ever had. I miss you Dad.

On Friday we did something that most folks would find foolish. We headed north rather than south in the middle of winter. We flew to Maine. We left the relative warmth of Maryland (23F when we left) for the relative cold of central Maine (-9F on Sunday morning). But our time here has been full of warmth. And not simply because there’s been a fire burning non-stop in the white cast iron stove in the living room, because we’ve been with our good friends, Shawn and Andy and their daughters. ...

The past few weeks have been somewhat trying – not so much in terms of not drinking but in terms of feeling overwhelmed by life. It’s just been plain busy and hectic. This has led to some re-evaluation on my part. I haven’t figured it all out by any means but I am coming to question many things about the 12 step program. ...

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity, thoughts, and a bit of confusion. I left for my annual sales conference in Miami on Wednesday of last week. I consciously chose not to get up for my morning meeting because I knew that I had a long day ahead of me filled with airplanes, Uber rides, meetings, cocktail hour, and a dinner. Wait, what? Cocktail hour? Sober people go to cocktail hours? Yes, sometimes we do when we have a good reason to be there, and a work event is generally a good reason. That doesn’t mean that we drink, it just means we show up. Sometimes you have to suit up and show up. So I went to cocktail hours on Wednesday and Thursday of last week, and had non-alcoholic drinks. My non-alcoholic drinks of choice were, club soda and lime, Red Bull, Ginger Ale, and Espresso. The meetings were generally good. I found that I was much more able to focus on the content being presented because I was actually present. I wasn’t hungover. I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t tired. I actually had a pretty good time and tweeted about it: ...

Shame. Such a powerful feeling; closely tied to guilt. We feel shame when we do something that we know we ought not do. Painful, humiliating, dishonorable, shame robs us of our self esteem. The actions that lead to shame might be simple foolishness or out right immoral. Regardless of the severity of the action, shame can be traced to self-awareness and the recognition that a mistake was made. ...

The thoughts that I’d been having over the past few days stuck with me into the evening yesterday. Despite my best efforts to occupy my mind with other things including listening to music, playing my acoustic guitar, opening up my electric guitar to see if I could fix it (it’s busted and probably will not be worth repairing), and taking a long walk in the cold air, I had trouble shaking those thoughts. So, I went to a meeting. And that helped. As I walked into the meeting I thought to myself, “I sure hope this speaker is a good one.” And she was. She had a story to tell, but more importantly she was good at conveying a message of hope. I went to bed last night with good thoughts in my mind. And then this morning came around. ...

Some days are better than others. I think I’ve been generally positive about my sobriety so far, and I am truly happy to be free of the chains of drinking every day. But, I’d be remiss if I let the world believe that every day is strawberries and cream, because they’re not. ...