Gnawing on My Own Soul

"A.A. does not teach me how to handle our drinking.  It teaches us how to handle sobriety. It's no great trick to stop drinking; the trick is to stay stopped."

The Big Book P. 554  "To Handle Sobriety"   

There's a passage in The 12&12 that includes the phrase "gnawing anxieties."  Whew, that is an excellent adjective.  "I can ask myself to what extent my own mistakes have fed my gnawing anxieties."

Gnawing:  A sensation of dull, constant pain or suffering; feelings of doubt or worry that last a long time; to wear away by constant biting or nibbling.

I love the image of constantly biting something that is already sore or injured with my sharp incisors.  And doing it for a long time, never stopping, nibbling on the open wound.  Maybe not even using my sharp incisors - maybe using my back teeth, my flat molars that are designed for grinding up chunks of food into manageable bits.  I like the phrase "to nibble."  Doesn't it sound like what we do to a bowl of potato chips?  

\Man, that sounds like the end stages of my alcoholic life.

Energy Vampires Roaming the Neighborhood

More from "Freedom from Bondage: " I would not only find a way to live without having a drink but I would find a way to live without wanting a drink.  A.A. taught me that willingness to believe was enough for a beginning.  Nor could I quarrel with 'restore us to sanity,' for my actions drunk or sober, before A.A., were not those of a sane person.  Rationalization is giving a socially acceptable reason for socially unacceptable behavior, and socially unacceptable behavior is a form of insanity."

This is key, in my opinion. It's not the stopping drinking that is the most important - it's the staying stopped.  If quitting was the magic key then sober living houses and psych wards would be turning out miracles by the thousands.  Plenty of us stop - at least for a while - but almost as many don't maintain the stoppage.  We don't find a solution for the reasons that make us drink.  If I have suppurating wounds all over my body because I don't know how to handle a kitchen knife the most important thing to do is to stop cutting myself, not to learn good wound management, antibiotics and bandages and all that.  While good wound management is crucial at the start we're going to figure out that we either have to learn how to handle a knife or we have to throw the suckers away.

"A.A. has taught me that I will have peace of mind in exact proportion to the peace of mind I bring into the lives of other people, for the only problems I have now are those I create when I break out in a rash of self-will."   

Other people, other people, blah blah blah, I am so sick of thinking about other people.  Other people are the worst.  Other people drain the energy out of me and so prevent me from thinking about myself.  Other people are Energy Vampires.  Why can't they think about me?  And the thing is, in my sobriety, I'm speaking mostly in jest here but not as thoroughly as I should be . . . and when I was drinking?  Forget about it.

"If you have a resentment you want to be free of, if you will pray for the person or the thing that you resent, you will be free.  If you will ask in prayer for everything you want for yourself to be given to them, you will be free.  Ask for their health, their prosperity, their happiness, and you will be free.  Even when you don't really want it for them, and your prayers are only words and you  don't mean it, go ahead and do it anyway.  Do it every day for two weeks and you will find that where you used to feel bitterness and resentment and hatred, you now feel compassionate understanding and love."

I like the part of this . . . Promise, really, when you think about it, this path to freedom from resentment . . . that suggests that we don't have to be sincere when we're praying for peace and serenity and good health and good fortune for some rival, some irritant, some enemy we actually wish would move to Antarctica and then freeze to death when they get there.  Even when we're just saying words that we don't mean an effect is made upon us.  We grow and we feel better and we often lose that resentment.  Now, granted, there are some really irritating sons of bitches out there that are going to require sustained and repeated praying but the magic really does happen when we stick with it.

Instead of praying that the irritant in your life goes blind how about praying that he only goes blind in one eye?  It's not great, it's not a form of advanced spirituality, but it is only half as vile as it used to be.     

This Wack-Job I Know Who Might Also Be a Dabbler

I know a guy in Ventura A.A. who has been sober forever.  Granted, a good chunk of this time he was dry rather than sober - a not insignificant difference - but he hasn't had a drink in 45 years.  That's a long time.  I don't care what kind of weird wack-job you are it's impressive for an alcoholic to not drink and drug for such a long stretch.  I love this guy and I tell him that, but he's still pretty much a wack-job to this day and if you tell him that he's a wack-job right to his face he'll laugh it off and say: "Sounds about right."  He's got good things to say for the most part and his independence, his insistence to blaze his own trail, is a comfort and an inspiration to many people.

Here's where we diverge: he insists periodically that it's therapeutic to take a year off of attending meetings.  I guess.  Who knows what works for other people?  His rationale is that he finds himself hiding out in The Rooms instead of doing the work that he needs to be doing on himself.  I guess my opinion is that you can do both simultaneously but I will grant you that I see A.A. members on a regular basis who go to a ton of meetings while not doing any of the grinding work necessary for recovery, and I don't as a rule find my relationships with them very satisfying.  They're dabblers; dabblers in the recovery world. 

Dabble:  To take part in an activity in a casual or superficial way.

Actually, as I think about it, Superficial Seaweed would be an excellent nickname.  Or maybe just The Dabbler.  As in, "Hey I saw The Dabbler at a meeting yesterday!"

Back to my rant . . . which is that in forty years of attending meetings I have never, ever, not once, heard another person state that he was going to take a year away from A.A. meetings to "work on himself."  Not saying that doesn't work or that it doesn't work for my friend but I would call it a pretty extreme approach.  The issue for me is that from time to time someone who's new will take up this banner and charge off into a "no meetings for a year" phase when I feel that is rarely a good idea for an alcoholic, particularly a new one.  And I say this fully aware of the searing irony of my insistence that we should all be free to follow whatever path to recovery that makes sense and works for us individually.  Apparently, except for taking a year off to work on yourself.  I know, I know . . . I'm a hypocrite.

This train of thought came about in the light of my relationship with the foster home guy I wrote about recently.  I don't think he's in any position to take a year off meetings.  But what do I know?  We're friends.  I'm not his keeper or parole agent.  All I can do is talk to him and hope that my wisdom hits a nerve.  Or doesn't hit a nerve at all  because I'm not the guy at this time and place who is put on this earth to give him advice or direction.

Freedom From Bondage

Sometimes the content of one of the stories in The Big Book really resonates with me.  The thinking sounds eerily similar to my own.  Here's a tidbit from the story "Freedom from Bondage:" The amount of will power exercised to control my drinking during working hours, diverted into a constructive channel, would have made me President."   

I include a similar sentiment in my remarks on occasion, this sense that I was putting far more time into getting away with not working than I would have put into . . . you know . . . just doing the work.  I was in a General Motors factory once where a supervisor said that the company bought a bunch of bicycles to help the line workers move around the huge facility more quickly.  The assumption was that these were pretty big items that would be hard to steal and consequently didn't need any theft protection.  In short order that some of the employees figured out that if they dismantled the bike and smuggled the smaller parts out piece by piece they could get away with the theft and voila! free bike!  I marveled at the fact that if this kind of ingenuity would have been put to practical use the thieves would have been promoted to positions of greater responsibility where they would have made more money and would have been able to just easily buy a new bike.

"My egocentricity had reached such proportions that adjustment to anything outside my personal control was impossible for me."

Egocentrism is the cognitive, often subconscious, inability to differentiate one's own perspective, thoughts, and feelings from those of others, leading to asn assumption that others experience the world the same way. It is a normal developmental stage in children but can persist in adults, manifesting as selfish, self-centered behavior or a failure to consider alternative viewpoints. 

There's an old sitcom called "WKRP in Cincinnati" which centered around a small radio station that played classic rock and was staffed by a very committed group of rock and roller outcasts.  Because the station wasn't making enough money the owners decided to switch the format to easy listening.  This upset the staff immensely.  As they were in a turmoil, discussing possible plans of action, the sales guy came in, a dense and tremendously egocentric buffoon, and shouted over the din: "What a minute, wait a minute!  (Comedic pause.)  "How does this affect me?"  This scene has stayed with me over the years as an example of egocentrism run amok.  We all need to aware of our own needs and wants.  This is perfectly normal and a necessary survival instinct.  But we are higher beings - or we strive to be - and this means that we learn - or we should learn - about considering the needs and wants of others.  And, taken to a spiritual extreme, putting those needs and wants above our own.

Who the fuck does that?!

"With deep shame came the knowledge that I have lived with no sense of social obligation nor had I known the meaning of moral responsibility to my fellow man."

Another great realization.  I am proud to live an independent life.  It's part of the magic that makes me who I am.  But, in my drinking days (and occasionally, still, at this later date) I took this independance to an unhealthy extreme and slowly became a selfish dude who didn't give a shit about anyone else.  Our Book is peppered with reminders that a life spent in service to others is deeply satisfying.  It reminds us that our sobriety is dependant on passing along the gift - free of charge, with no expectation of any return - that was so freely given to us.  We are exhorted to live a life of service to others . . . at our own expense . . . and anything that we lose, or think we lose, will be returned to us in a larger measure.

There's That Hairy Monster Again

I had a long conversation yesterday with a young man who grew up in foster homes, and to this day doesn't know who is parents are.  Almost every time we speak he surprises me with some behavior that I should have known about - that it would have been healthy for him to tell me about, to tell someone about, anybody, some homeless dude just to hear himself talk - but that I did not, in fact, know about.  I don't think he's trying to hide anything or to deceive anyone - I think it doesn't occur to him to talk to another person about stuff that's going on.  For instance, he seems to have problems with a fear of abandonment.  No shit, right?  To be abandoned as a child, to feel unloved, to be raised in a chaotic environment, and then try to sustain a healthy relationship with other people?  I see him careen between taking hostages and continuing to pursue relationships that clearly aren't working.  None of this makes him a bad guy or a fatally flawed one but I'm continually surprised when he casually mentions spending time with someone who behaved in a way - not long ago - that convinced him the relationship was over.  I find myself saying: "Wait . . . what?  You did what?  With that person?"  I'm more surprised that he isn't keeping me in the loop over his behavior than with the behavior itself.  I understand why two incompatible people who are driving each other mental keep returning to their own conjoined, codependent mental institution but why he doesn't think to loop me in is the cipher.  I don't think he's worried that I'll tell him not to do something - I think it just doesn't occur to him to talk to someone else about what he's doing. 

I will occasionally shoot off a text to a young woman whose father is an intractable homeless dude, a man who has been homeless for a long time and doesn't seem interested in changing, a man who is uninterested in being part of her life.  So guess what?  She's a fiercely independent person, not at all needy, who manages her life just fine most of the time.  But, on occasion, I'll get a long reply full of drama and anger that shows me that she is not used to including anyone else in what's going on.  Not me, not anyone, and I see how this isolation can really be a hindrance to a calm, collected day.   

I'm convinced that we all get used to not having something and then if we get it we're surprised at how much we missed it and how satisfying it is to have it.

Misery: A condition of great wretchedness or suffering; extreme unhappiness.  It's not dropping your ice cream cone - it's having a hairy monster steal your ice cream cone, eat it in one bite, and then kidnap you and carry you off to his cave.   

Suffering: When painful emotions get activated in response to a difficult circumstance; the state of undergoing pain, stress, or hardship.

I read these two excellent words in The Big Book recently.  When I staggered into A.A. I was suffering in misery.  Misery is what I was enduring.  I believe the old aphorism which states: "Pain is inevitable - suffering is optional."  Today this kind of wisdom, hard-earned, often makes me immune to the suffering - for the most part or at least helps me manage it - when difficult things happen to me.  I can feel the pain but I have the tools to deal with it so I don't descend into long-term suffering.

Timing Is Everything

I've been attending meetings for a couple of years now with a man who I'm friends with . . . almost friends with . . . friendly with . . . some combination of all that.  He's a smart guy with a quick wit who likes to joke around but isn't quite as funny as he thinks he is and whose timing and content needs some work . . .  some serious work.  A gentle jibe spoken to the right person at the right time can add to the laughter in The Rooms while it might appear offensive written down on a sheet of paper with no context provided.  He always tends toward humor I find pretty juvenile, more suited to middle-school boys trying to find their way in the world and not to a grown-ass man.  This is okay, too, and not that unusual.

I think he's trying too hard.  When he's not in Show Time mode he comes across as a gentle, thoughtful man.  Case in point: we have a woman who attends our meeting from who is bursting with nervous energy.  She doesn't have ants in her pants - she has fire ants in her pants, pissed fire ants, pissed ravenously hungry fire ants.  Man, I get it, I really do.  I'm also an ants-in-my-pants kind of guy.  She's a little sporadic in her attendance so many of us can see that she would probably be happier if she could get some of her fire back in the fireplace instead of incinerating the kitchen curtains, but that's her call and I'm glad to see her in any case.  Anyway, my friend, trying to be funny, compared her to Granny on the Beverly Hillbillies.  Granny was a firecracker.  Granny blew the doors off everyone else in the show.  Granny was a burn-the-house down kind of firecracker.  I get the reference and I believe that - maybe - in the right circumstances and with exquisite timing our member would have laughed at this but the comment annoyed her.  My point: clever, witty, accurate joke that landed with a clang.

I've been telling this dude lately that I've really noticed a change in him, that I believe The Program is sinking in more deeply.  I'm seeing more of the kind, gentle man and less of the trying too hard, inappropriate man.

Here's a Seaweed analogy because my wife loves my analogies.  I can hear her rolling her eyes from the back of the house as I type this.  That, of course, never stops me so here's the analogy.  I was walking along the boardwalk yesterday during a spirited high tide.  There were places where the pavement was wet so I knew to keep an eye on the strength and the fury of the incoming surf.  A woman, clearly not a local, had strayed too close to the surf while she was trying to get some pictures of the big waves and did not notice a big one coming in which splashed over the  barrier and absolutely soaked her.  A water dripping off her hair soaking.  A number of us stopped and looked, some smiles because slipping on a banana peel and falling on your ass is kind of funny, but I approached her and asked if she was okay.  She was trying to laugh it off, more embarrassed than anything, calling herself an idiot over and over.  I assured her that she wasn't an idiot, that I had seen this happen many times over the years.  She handed over her dripping phone when I asked if I could dry off the salt water running off the screen.  After a few moments I told her: "Well .  .  . you made my day."  She laughed pretty hard.  But, if I had said this immediately, without coming over and being nice and helpful and sympathetic, I would have sounded like a major asshole.  My timing was spot on and it came after a burst of kindness.  I wanted her to know I was laughing with her and not at her.

Although I was kind of laughing at her.

Ha! Ha! I Mean . . . Do'h!

I'm asked from time to time why I continue to attend A.A. meetings when I'm no longer an active drunk?  I'm tempted to say: "Because I'm still an active asshole."  While that quip is meant mostly as a joke there's more than a touch of truth clinging to it.  To wit: the clerk at my grocery store who annoyed me over a trifle or the woman who brought her own personal boom box into my public pool, provoking me to behave in an incredibly childish and immature way by trying to splash water onto her audio equipment.  (Ed. Note: After I did this incredibly childish and immature thing I told on myself at a meeting.  Then . . . I've never seen her again.  Life is funny that way.  Not "ha-ha" funny but "D'oh!" funny.)  I'm grateful that I don't often pursue my minor grievances into such extremes of behavior but am aware that I'm aggrieved over minor things more stridently than I'd care to be.  

This has reminded me of a story a man told about a contentious relationship he had with a neighbor.  It was suggested that he might get some relief if he prayed for this guy every day for two weeks.  It worked - he felt some relief and was able to put the resentment behind him only to come home and see a For Sale sign in his neighbor's yard.  Do'h!  God is not a little funny - God is damned funny.

And I did share with my home group - out loud, when other people were in the room, in the language commonly spoken in the region - the story of the grocery store clerk who annoyed the holy shit out of me by doing something incredibly inconsequential.  Most of the time if I just chill and breathe and shake my internal head the pique flows away.  But I find that my community keeps me on the straight and narrow.