Is There a Problem, HorseFace?

Problem: A question, matter, situation, or person that is perplexing or difficult.

I have problems.

And while I was originally under the impression that I could skate through life avoiding these problems -- all I needed was easy access to an unlimited supply of the correct combination of alcohol and pharmacological agents -- my friends in recovery quickly disabused me of this un-fact. Now I have to face my problems, which is actually a hell of a lot easier than pretending they don't exist. When my hair is on fire, I put some water on it. I acknowledge the fact that it's on fire and take action. I was the guy at the bar sitting in a dark corner with my hair ablaze, trying not to draw attention to myself. Even more important, I have quit soaking my head in combustible fluids and sitting near open flames. This is new behavior as well.

What I have, more or less, are Ferrari problems. I order a red Ferrari and get bent out of shape when the shipment is delayed, or it comes in yellow. It's still a Ferrari. I don't have too many of the same problems today that I had when I was practicing my black art. I have problems of prosperity. My problems are only possible because I am sober.

The Bright Side? What's That?

Pessimism: The tendency to expect misfortune or the worst outcome in any circumstances; practice of looking on the dark side of things.

For someone who hates pain so much I sure spend a lot of time making sure that I experience as much of it as possible. My brain looks for pain. My entire being rushes headlong toward fear. I'm in my little canoe, drifting down a nice river, approaching a fork in the water. One side has rainbows and pleasant breezes and everything is dripping with pastel colors. There are like a hundred Bambis frolicking around. The other fork is dark and forbidding. The wind is howling and the underbrush is stunted and dead. The only animals that I can see are wolverines and hyenas and a few astonishingly large crocodiles. The rain is lashing the canoe with such ferocity that I can barely see to paddle that way with all of my might, which of course I do. I vaguely sense that I am not making a good decision but I'm almost powerless to stop myself.

My life before recovery was fear based. It's familiar and weirdly comfortable. And I have an innate tendency to look for the dark lining in every cloud. I think a lot of alcoholics do. Sometimes I run into those freaks of nature that are naturally optimistic. Big smiles on their faces, relaxed, looking on the bright side of things, sure that everything will work out. I can't stand people like that. They should be quarantined on Leprosy Island.

My experience is that everything does work out even when I don't like the path I have to take to get to the better place.

Tomorrow is Not Today

Today I am going to live entirely in the future. I'm going to wing way on out there as far as I can get. The future that I imagine is a shadowy, dark place full of threatening figures. It is an ominous place. Outcomes will be unpleasant. The choices that I make today will be incorrect and will start a slow, downward spiral from which I will never recover. Other than that, things should be OK.

Why don't I win the lottery in the futures that I construct? Why don't things work out well? If I'm going to waste my time thinking about events that are almost certainly never going to come to pass, why not pick pleasant thoughts? Instead, I'm getting murdered or bilked out of my savings or the burning plane is crashing into the jungle, which is full of crocodiles and piranhas and stinging insects.

I'm under the impression that my Higher Power has rescued me from a painful alcoholic death, set me on my feet, and pointed me in the right direction, only to decide at the last minute to drop me on my head. This makes no sense whatsoever. The Devil isn't that cruel, let alone the source of all Goodness in the Universe. I am going to be taken care of. I am going to be well taken care of in light of my past behavior.

Today.

I'm So Relaxed It's Giving Me a Headache

Relax: To become less tense or stern.

I make everything way too important. I don't have a good intuitive feel for what it means to take it easy. The two speeds that are installed in my being are full acceleration and completely stopped. I like to go a hundred miles an hour to get to my next destination so that I can sit there, bored, and wonder why I was in such a big hurry. It's hard to notice the lovely scenery when the telephone poles are flying by so fast that they look like a picket fence

Sometimes we suggest that we should wear the world like a loose cloak. The idea is that we have to stay engaged but that we can relax a little bit. I wear the world like a spandex unitard, which is a couple of sizes too small and has been shrunk in the dryer. This is not called a "relaxed fit." Maybe I could start a new line of clothing specializing in uncomfortably small items. I could call it the "tense fit."

It's nice to want to get things done. It's nice to be productive. It shouldn't be our only goal in life. We don't have to be productive all of the time. We can mess up and drift off in the wrong direction and struggle with stuff. We don't have to have all the answers all the time. We can relax and take it easy. We have to stay engaged with the world but we don't have to wrestle it to the ground.

Avoid The Noid

Avoid: To keep away from; shun; to get out of; shirk.

The thing about me and pain is that I really don't see the point of it. I don't really care for it at all. I don't see what it does for me. And I'm talking about any kind of pain whatsoever: emotional, mental, or physical. I find them all equally distasteful and have made one of the main goals of my life the avoidance of pain by whatever means possible.

When I'm in pain, I try to fix the problem immediately. I try to make the pain go away. I don't want to spend any time figuring out why I'm in pain, to see if my behavior somehow caused the pain or that the particular pain I'm in may be a normal, unavoidable part of a normal, boring life. If I'm unsuccessful in banishing the pain quickly and with little effort, then I assume that it is never going to go away. Moreover, it is going to get worse. I run screaming into the night.

This is what we mean when we talk about living in the problem or living in the solution.

Let's Complicate the Hell Out of It

Complicated: Made up of parts intricately involved or combined; hard to untangle, solve, understand, analyze, etc.

Today I am going to make everything as difficult as possible. Simple solutions are for the simple minded. Keeping it simple only works for those who don't have my vast intellect and laser sharp ability to see life from thousands of different angles and levels and nuances. I find it necessary to look at a situation for hours, stare at it with an unwavering intensity, and plumb its deepest, darkest depths. Only then will I be able to divine the true nature of things.

I'm the guy you find on the floor, tangled in a ball of yarn, unable to move, nearly strangled to death. I decide to roll up some loose yarn and I start by analyzing the molecular composition of the yarn particles. I study the history of yarn. I visit a yarn factory and sign up to earn a PhD in yarnology. I talk to yarn experts. I lose my temper with anyone who suggests that I'm spending too much time on parts of the yarn rolling up experience that might not be helpful in actually rolling up the yarn.

Keep in simple, my ass.

Meditation or Medication?

Meditation: Solemn reflection on sacred matters as a devotional act.

A couple of days ago I forgot to share my thoughts on meditation, probably because I was spending so much time praying that I was going to get everything that I want and avoid anything that I find unpleasant. I don't mean to suggest that praying is not an important part of my recovery program. It is. It's just that it can be time consuming. There are a lot of things that can go wrong that I need to head off. There is a long list of things that I want that need to be catalogued in great detail and then transmitted to my Higher Power.

It has been said that praying is talking to God and meditation is listening to what God may have to say. Nobody believes this. We recognize that a prayer is a long list of demands and that meditation is, at its best, nap time. The seamier side of meditation contains sexual fantasies, intricate plots of revenge, and pleasant thoughts of what it would like to be very wealthy, a rock star, a professional athlete, or very wealthy. Maybe I could be a wealthy professional athlete -- beloved by all -- who learns how to play slide guitar and jams with old bluesmen in some Delta backwater.

I'm trying to convince myself that an intricate plot for revenge can be a sacred matter. It's not going very well.

There Are Other People?

Other: another or some other person or thing.

Today I'm not going to clog up my brain with thoughts of other people. I'm sure not going to do anything for anyone else. Thinking about them is bad enough. This isn't going to be as easy as it sounds despite my highly developed ability to block out all awareness of anyone but myself. Sometimes a stray thought of another person sneaks into my consciousness through some shadowy mental back door. I will, however, be vigilant and banish these thoughts as soon as they appear. I can't afford to allow such nonsense to gain even the tiniest of footholds. The consequences may be dire.

I get nervous if I wonder whether I can keep this practice up forever. To this I say: One Day At A Time. Our wonderful slogan can be applied to all kinds of actions besides drinking. Tomorrow I may allow myself to think of someone else -- tomorrow I may call some of my old friends to see if they want to get together and spend an evening thinking about others -- but not today. All I can do is take care of this day and trust that tomorrow will take care of itself.

Just keep it simple and everything will work out for the best.

Bump in the Road

Bump: A blow; light collision; jolt; a swelling or lump, especially one caused by a blow.

I'm not a big fan of the bumpy ride. I don't care much for bumps in the road. And when I say "bump," which is a pretty cute word, I really mean "pain," a far nastier concept that comes in the door with a lot of baggage. I don't care for pain. I spent my entire drinking career trying to dance out of the way of any unpleasantness. All is fair in love and war, and in the avoidance of pain for an active alcoholic. And when I say "active alcoholic," I mean an alcoholic who is alive. I've been sober for a while and I'm still prone to hiding in the bushes when I see any pain lurking on the horizon.

Our literature suggests that we like the idea of spiritual growth and a strong moral foundation but would prefer that this would happen magically. We want our Higher Power, and when I say "Higher Power," I mean the Wizard of Oz, to sprinkle some morality dust on us. We want to be good without any work. We don't want to get off the couch. We want to be struck good.

We're holding out as long as we can in case in turns out that we can get better, painlessly.

I Declare My Annoyance

Complain: To express pain, dissatisfaction, etc.; to find fault; declare annoyance.

Today I'm going to complain. I'm going to let 'er rip and bitch about everything. I'm going to find fault wherever I can. It's not too hard, in this magnificently flawed world, to see that everything is broken and in decline, never to improve. I'm submerged in mediocrity, surrounded by fools and jesters who are just making things worse. Everyone is doing it wrong, from the most powerful government to the lowliest tech support worker manning the help desk.


I have a bad pair of glasses. They magnify the problem and blur the solution. I'm obsessed with the problem. I'm mesmerized by failure. I can spot the flaw at a hundred paces in a driving rainstorm in the blackest night, while I'm in a coma. I can take perfection and chop it to bits. I can see the speck in your eye.

This is easier than working on my own defects.

Prayer -- Request or Demand?

Prayer: An earnest request; entreaty; supplication.

The founders of our Program put a lot of stock in prayer and meditation. They dedicated a whole Step to them. A long Step. This would seem to indicate to me that prayer and meditation are going to be an important part of my recovery. These twin engines of serenity, however, can be tricky to implement. It's not easy getting God to do what I want and it's pretty boring trying to settle down for a few minutes and listen to what he has to say.

Of the two, prayer is a little easier. It's the time where we try to tell God what he should do for us. It is our time to lay down the divine law. We can spell out in great detail what needs to happen today. We concentrate on today -- it is "One day at a time" after all -- but we should feel free to leap out into the future to head off any coming unpleasantness. We put special emphasis on the things that we want. We carefully enumerate anything that may cause us pain. God can be a little unclear on how to implement our wishes.

Tomorrow: Meditation techniques.

What's that you say?

Listen: To make a conscious to hear; attend closely, so as to hear.

I'm always a little suspicious of my motives when I share at a meeting. I think that I enjoy being on the Big Stage enthralling a captive audience with amazing stories of my profound recovery. After all, most people sit there and listen politely, or pretend to listen politely, at least. No one has ever told me to shut up -- not loud enough for me to hear, anyway. I have not been heckled or hit with rotten fruit hurled from the back row. I'm pretty agile -- I have been able to duck when I see a tomato coming my way. It's a legacy from all of the shucking and jiving and juking that I used to do.

I have a tendency to exaggerate. It's very hard for me to share my story in a simple, unembellished manner. When I talk about my drinking exploits, I want to impress people with how bad they were, when mostly I got drunk by myself in front of the television. I try too hard to be funny -- it's OK to make people laugh but this isn't the Improv. There aren't any executives from NBC in the audience scouting out talent for a new sitcom. Worst of all, I told so many lies when I was drinking that I believe some of them to this day. They have become embedded deep in my self-conscious. Sometimes I think: "Why am I telling this story? I don't think I ever got married to a jungle princess in Madagascar."

I help myself more by listening.

Twelve -- All Inclusive, In Order

I believe that if I don't want to drink again that I have to work the Twelve Steps. I believe that the whole concept of my recovery is based on applying the principles found in these Steps to my alcoholism. I believe that people who pick up a drink -- sometimes after significant periods of sobriety -- have quit working the Twelve Steps in any meaningful fashion.

I can get caught up in the mechanics of recovery and forget to practice these principles in all of my affairs, which is the end result of working the Steps. I can spend a lot of time doing all of the recommended things -- going to meetings, calling my sponsor, reading the literature -- and totally ignore the essence of the Program. Sometimes I'm just going through the motions. Sometimes I just phone it in.

I'm not suggesting that these aren't good things to do or that they won't help me stay sober. Personally, I have to do them or I believe that I will drink again. It's my experience that it's possible to do all the right things without buying into the Twelve Step concept. There are plenty of sober assholes. Maybe I'm one of them.

I was an active, drunken member of the Fellowship for 18 months before I got sober. I wasn't doing the Steps. I had a guy grab me by the collar and give me some pointed instructions on how to get started on working the Steps.

Pissed me off, I can tell you that. Got me sober, though.

Orderly Transfer of Power

Will: Something wished by a person, especially by one with power or authority.

I definitely have a will. I definitely wish for a lot of things. I wish that I had the power and authority to get all of those things, I know that much. Initially, I struggled with what it meant to turn my will over to a Higher Power of some sort. This concept made a lot more sense when I started to equate my will with all of the stuff that I lusted after. All of those Porsches and casual sexual encounters with exciting and willing partners who I never had to see again. All of those bags of money and people working hard to make sure that I was comfortable.

Turning my will over to my Higher Power takes some work on my part. It takes a sustained effort. I have never had any luck turning my will over when I'm laying on the couch watching Gilligan's Island. This is an action which requires that I hand over all of my power to something else. It means that I relinquish this power. There is nothing passive about it.

Once again, I have some work to do.

No More Excuses

My favorite meeting each week is a Big Book study that a few of us facilitate at a local state administered involuntary hotel and spa resort. Yesterday was a holiday so the guys had a free day -- no obligations or mandatory programs to attend. Unlimited TV time and an animated corn-hole tournament. Attendance at our meeting dropped from twenty inmates to five.

Our experience is that if an inmate doesn't attend a meeting the very day of their release then they probably won't ever attend a meeting, that this will lead to a drug or alcohol relapse, and that they will end up back in jail. To a man, everyone assures us that they will make a phone call to another recovering alcoholic and that they will go to a meeting every day. They aren't lying -- they really believe this. We pointed out to the Hardy Five attending our meeting that the distractions are going to be much more powerful on the outside. If someone can't be bothered to walk across a room and spend an hour on their recovery while they are locked up, there isn't much chance that they will be able to resist the temptations on the outside.

I didn't stay sober until I started thinking of The Program as oxygen. I don't have the option of not breathing today. It's number one on my list of things to do. I don't have the option of not working on my recovery today. At the start of each week, I automatically sketch out what I'm going to do to stay sober. I work around every distraction and obligation. There are a million meetings out there. There is plenty of time to pray or read our literature. A two minute phone call can energize me for hours.

I was never too busy to drink. I'm never too busy to work on my recovery.

Just One of the Cows in the Herd

Ordinary: Usual; regular; normal, unexceptional; common.

Here's a sentence from our literature: "We have not once sought to be one in a family, to be a friend among friends, to be a worker among workers, to be a useful member of society." Well, no shit, Sherlock. I have sought to be a titan among titans. I want to be King of the Titans. I want to wield the Sword of Absolute Power, that's what I want.

My spirits fell when I first read this passage. There were few ideas in our Fellowship that I found so discouraging. It seemed to recommend that I should strive to be so . . . ordinary. This is a difficult concept for an extraordinarily extraordinary person like myself. I'm a leader of men. I'm a slayer of dragons. I'm a thinker of great thoughts. I'm a maker of bongs and a drinker of beer. I'm the driver of the porcelain bus.

"Always we tried to struggle to the top of the heap, or to hide underneath it." I'm an egomaniac with an inferiority complex. I'm the greatest piece of garbage that ever walked the face of the earth.

What an ego I have. What nerve to think that my actions are so important or my place in the world is so exalted.