Xa

Monumental changes in one area of life often affect other areas in our lives, and so it’s probably no surprise that with the change of jobs I’ve not only been too busy to write, but I’ve also been a bit negligent with my meeting attendance. And as I’ve been negligent with attendance, I’ve felt myself drift further and further from my recovery program. And my resistant self has risen up to lead the committee in my head – the one that debates the importance of the program. ...

“What’s up with the water?” “What do you mean?” “Why aren’t you drinking.” “I don’t drink.” “Never?” “Never, not anymore.” This was going nowhere quickly. I was already frustrated with my new business partner and his behavior, but I took a few deep breaths. “I haven’t had a drink in over 18 months. If you’d like to have another SE like you last one, I can have a beer. If you like me to show up to meetings the way I have been, it’s best for me to have water.” His last systems engineer had a problem with the bottle and I knew it. He had been let go because of his habit of showing up to customer meetings intoxicated. I hoped that he’d get the message. “Why do you count?” I looked at our customer who sat across form me and could see that he sensed the tension. I could see that he was a bit uncomfortable. “What do you mean?” “Why do you count?” I had wondered whether or not my new business partner was clued in to my sobriety. I’d taken the job about three weeks prior and I was keenly aware of the fact that he’d talked to a lot of people that we both knew. I was also keenly aware that I’ve been public about my sobriety and that a simple google search would reveal a twitter account with links to this page. I was fairly confident that this line of questioning was coming from a place of knowledge of my status. While I’ve always been quite comfortable with my sobriety and I’ve been open and honest about it, I didn’t advertise it in the interview process — that didn’t seem prudent. I kept it under wraps and planned to share it at the appropriate time. This was not the appropriate time and I was getting irritated with it. “What do you want me to say?” ...

For months, I have woken up filled with anger and angst about the politics of the United States. I’ve felt that it was my responsibility to be educated, to be involved, to raise my voice against injustice, to resist. But in the 24 hour news cycle this has become taxing — Taxing on my mental health, my family, and my friendships. I’ve been keenly aware that my anger and angst, my resentments, have been eating me alive. I’ve also been keenly aware that these things are beyond my control. Intellectually, I know what to do, and yet, I have resisted. And I’ve felt trapped. Trapped by the fact that this is an “outside issue.” I’ve felt a strong need to talk about it in a safe place, a meeting perhaps, but have known that I cannot bring up politics in a meeting for obvious reasons. I’ve been caustic in my criticism of this new reality on my social media outlets. Where I’ve needed to bring healing words, I’ve only brought sandpaper to rub the wounds of my friends. ...

"fear of people…will leave us" Once I got sober I quickly found that I could drop many the things that I feared. I was no longer trying to hide the facts of my alcoholism. I was making positive changes that had big and immediate impacts on my daily life. I slept better, which meant I felt better. I quickly found that everyday pains and gut issues were subsiding. The physical wellness that arose out of my sobriety is a wonderful gift. And yet, there have been other, more important gifts – loss of shame, less irritation with life, less anger. Perhaps the gift I’m most grateful for is that the fear of people left me. I recall hosting meetings for my team in my hometown about three weeks after I surrendered. I was nervous for sure. I couldn’t take the guys out to the best bars in Annapolis. I couldn’t drink with my team. I knew that would be difficult, and it was. I remember the team dinner seemed to drag on and on, well after I was ready to call it a night. But I also remember talking with the valet parking attendant at the hotel for about twenty minutes before dinner. I had no room at the hotel because I was going home to my house. I had no business grabbing a drink at the hotel bar and it was nice outside so I’d gone out to catch some fresh air while the team got ready to go to dinner. I don’t recall the specifics of the conversation but I do remember that I recognized that I was actually connecting with this young man. ...

Recently, Jeff Vande Zane, contacted me to see if I might be interested in reading his novel Detroit Muscle and offered to send me a PDF version. Since, I’d heard good things about this novel from several friends on Twitter, I was immediately game. In fact, the book was already on my “to read” shelf on goodreads.com. Since I can’t stand to read PDFs even on an e-reader, I bought a copy from Amazon for my kindle. As I mentioned in a previous post, I was a bit concerned that I might not identify with the protagonist in the story, Robby Cooper, because his story was so different from my own. However, I quickly knew that I would identify with Robby because after all addiction is addiction regardless of the user’s drug of choice. Yes, my drug of choice was Alcohol, and Robby’s was Oxy, but that became immaterial once I got into the story. The book catalogues Robby’s first few weeks after he gets back to Detroit from a rehab facility. Vande Zande clearly knows Detroit well and includes details about the city and it’s landmarks that pull the reader into the scenes. A story about Detroit would not be complete if it didn’t feature a car and this one does, a 1968 Pontiac Firebird that Robby’s father had restored with his grandfather. ...

Last night, I drifted off to sleep thinking of the song Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills, and Nash. The ideas of helplessness, hopelessness, and hope kept swirling around in my head after I received a kind comment from a woman who’s living through the hell of watching her husband struggle with opioid addiction. I thought about how helpless my wife must have felt when I was drinking. There was nothing she could do to help me; she was just as trapped as I was in the cycle, maybe even more than I. Though it may not have seemed viable a the time, she had the choice to remain with me and to hope that I’d someday get it together. She could have left me. Lord knows many people do leave their loved ones when addiction holds them in its grasp. I thought about how hopeless I felt when I was in the end of my drinking days. Indeed, it was a deep feeling of despair and hopelessness that permeated my existence. Day after day, despite knowing that nothing good would come of it, I found myself drinking. And day after day, I hated what was happening. I couldn’t see a way out. The idea of not drinking felt like abandoning a friend. Albeit a friend who continuously beat the crap out of me, who toyed with my emotions and who took every opportunity to convince me that I needed him. Mixed in with the feelings of hopelessness, was a healthy dose of helplessness. ...

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness April may be the cruelest month, but August is a close second – at least in my book. Here in Maryland, August is hot, humid, and oppressive. This year, it was even more so with record temperatures and long periods of no rain. But that’s not why August was so hard for me this year. It was the constant flood of memories of how things were last year. ...

A little over a year ago I had become a master at hiding my reality. I wouldn’t answer the phone after a certain point in the day. I wouldn’t make calls before a certain point in the day. I didn’t want to be seen by people who knew me. I spread my liquor buying habits out among several stores. I buried my empties deep in the recycling bin. I hid what was really going on from the rest of the world. Only my immediate family could see how bad things were externally, but even they didn’t know the true depths of despair that were the result of my daily drinking. That’s because I didn’t speak about what was going on. And when I did, I spoke in broken code and half truths. ...

When I think about the first 30 days of my sobriety today I have an overwhelming sense of relief. I don’t ever want to go through that again. I mean, it was incredibly difficult to simply turn it off and stop drinking daily. But that’s what I did. I stopped. I remember overwhelming fatigue. Fatigue that hit hard in the middle of the day. Most days of that first 30, I was down for the count for a solid 1 to 2 hours in the middle of the day. Thankfully I work form home and so I got away with it. I don’t know how I’d have dealt with it if I were in an office or on a job site. I remember not wanting to cook dinner. ...

We all do it. We all compare ourselves to other people. We compare ourselves to our friends, our enemies, our neighbors, strangers on the street, and celebrities that we will never know personally. In some cases we feel “superior to” and in other cases we feel “less than” — neither view is particularly healthy. Our subjective understanding of ourselves is deeply rooted in our understanding of how we fit in (or don’t) to this world. We come to this understanding by comparing ourselves to others. In early years, this is how we learn to become social animals. It’s how we learn to make friends. I am constantly amazed that my son so easily makes friends when he meets other children his age. I am sure he compares himself to them, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He quickly finds the commonalities and joins in in the fun. Those commonalities may be as specific as the love of Legos or as simple as the mere fact that they are kids and not adults. I have vague recollections of being able to do this myself when I was young. But somewhere along the line I lost the ability to quickly identify similarities and began to focus on the differences. ...

Facebook has a remarkable way of reminding me exactly how crazy things had gotten in my life. You know those “Memories” that it shows. Many of mine are related to what I was drinking that day. Either a picture of a drink, a check in on untapd, or even more disturbing a post about how much I was looking forward to having a drink. It’s been nine months and one day since I took my last drink. ...

It’s another great day to be alive, healthy, and sober. The sunset last night was so spectacular here in Menemsha. It was a true reminder of how beautiful this world and this life really are. As I sit here on the porch of the cottage we are renting this morning the sky is clear, the birds are singing, and the harbor bell is ringing in the distance. ...

“Hi, welcome to Seastreak. Do you have a reservation?” “Yes, we’re on the 2 PM to Martha’s Vineyard.” “Okay, parking is down the street for $13 a day, or we can valet it for $25 a day.” ...

“This is why I stopped drinking,” I said, “I was missing times like this.” My son had been making paper airplanes of various designs — multiple different shapes, decorations, cut outs, stapled on parts, and weights of paper ranging from printing paper to card-stock — since shortly after Hearon had shown up for dinner. Of course, every different plane was presented to our guest for inspection and approval before its inaugural flight. I can’t do justice to my son’s enthusiasm for these planes and the fact that he had a new friend to show them to. Let me just say that there was a great deal of laughter and many smiles between the three of us. This was, indeed, one of the reasons I’d stopped drinking — I was, indeed, missing out on moments like this 8 months ago. I missed out on the because they never had a chance to happen. ...

It’s June. The 6th month of the year. Those of us in the Northern Hemisphere will be celebrating the start of summer with the summer solstice. Those in the Southern Hemisphere are headed into winter. Of course, in the 12 step world, we often focus on a step and a tradition each month. Naturally, meetings are focused on the sixth step in June, where we humbly ask the good of our understanding to remove our defects of character. I’m still fuming. ...