Fast!

Fast:  Quickly, with great speed; within a short time.

As part of my never-ending fascination with myself I was reminiscing - I really should say re-reminiscing because I never stop pondering my fate in life unless I'm taking some time off to think about my current circumstances or what may happen to me in the future - about my foray into Optometry School.    My aborted, unsuccessful foray into the field of eye doctor-ness.  I made it half way through which really wasn't the point of starting in the first place - I was kind of going for the going-all-the-way technique.  And I didn't leave because I thought this was a good idea - I left right before the door smacked into my ass regions.

If there was an event in my life that could have caused a great deal of regret this would be it.  "I coulda been a contenduh," in other words.  A doctor of the eyes.  Dr. Seaweed - it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?  I am overjoyed to report that, because of this wonderful Program and its emphasis on moving forward and not looking back, that the regret is nowhere to be found.  Part of this a practical reflection - the field of optometry has changed in ways that would have made the occupation less than optimal for me.  Plus, I really enjoyed the work that I ended up doing although saying "I was a salesman" when people ask me about my occupation doesn't have the same impressive cachet.  Well, what do I care what people think about me anyway?

I guess part of the screed here is that it sure is helpful - especially at the start - to have a job that you enjoy.  Sobriety is hard enough without having to show up every day someplace that you don't want to be.  The flip side of the coin is that even if you think your job sucks - and it probably isn't as sucky as you're making it out to be - having something to occupy your time for a big chunk of the day is a good idea.  Plus, there's that whole needing money to live thing that has to be taken into consideration.  Pretty important, that.

But the whole re-reminiscing part sort of originally centered around the idea of speed.  Fast speed.  Moving fast and purposefully into the future.  Part of my struggles in optometry can be traced to the fact that I was in a much accelerated mode at the time.  While it was not an absolute requirement to have an undergraduate degree many of my classmates had one or had at least completed 3 years of college.  There was a small group of us who doubled up on classes and went to summer school and performed well enough to earn early admission.  

Two things here - it sure made my 2 years of undergraduate work miserable.  One year I had 7 final exams at the end of a term due to all of the lab classes I had to take in conjunction with the regular classroom work.  The other hindrance was that I would occasionally find myself in say, my first microbiology class, with people who had degrees in microbiology.  I was definitely at a disadvantage competition-wise.

Part of this was purely practical.  I was responsible for most of the costs of my education - the considerable costs - and it made sense to get from the money-draining part of my life into the money-making part.  I was not in a position to "find myself" in school.  I was right there.  I knew where I was.  It wasn't the right place, obviously, but I was on the map.

Moving fast into the future.

Fright Masks and Such

Seriously:  Without humor or expression of happiness; grave in manner or disposition.

Whatever it is - it isn't that important.  At least it's not as important as you think it is.  Of all the things that have happened in my life I would estimate I've had like 19 important things happen out of 17 billion or so.  Even things that are important often lose their potency more quickly than we'd think.

It's not the end of the world.  Quit taking  yourself so seriously.  You're not that important.  It's not that big a deal.

I got up early to attend my 7AM meeting a few days ago and was amused to see that my hair was mostly sticking straight up in the air.  Because it doesn't take much to encourage me I used a little water to complete the Fright Mask look.  My appearance resembled a cartoon character who has seen something really horrifying - the hair springs straight up and then stays frozen in place.   Many normal people would correct this look, preferring a normal appearance.  I fucked around with my hair to make it look even weirder.  In fact, I was so impressed with the hairstyle that I decided to forgo my normal morning pork pie hat.  (Ed. Note: If you forgo something in the past did you forwent it?  Please research.)

At this large meeting no one said anything to me, aware that I'm apt to do the occasional odd thing.  One guy mumbled something about a comb but that was about it.  A number of people censured me for not wearing a hat.  Maybe this was because my hair looked so ridiculous but more likely the culprit was that I always have a hat on.

After the meeting a new dude came up to me.  This dude is really new and he's not, at the moment, playing with a full deck.  I'm always talking to people like this.  My service work for the group includes getting to the meeting early and standing near the smoking area for 20 minutes or so.  New people are usually still smoking.  Let me tell you this - there are some real characters out on those church steps.  I get more recovery out of the insanity filling that space than I do out of the meeting that follows.

Dude (quite seriously): "Where do you get your hair cut?"

Seaweed:  Along the lines of "whatever barber I happen to be passing when the mood strikes me."

Dude: "How much to do you pay?"

Seaweed: $20.

Dude: "You should come see me.  I'll do it for half that.  I'm a barber.  That's what I do.  I'm staying at John's (Ed. Note: a local half-way house.)"

Normally when someone approaches me at a meeting for a hand-out or to shill for a product or service - which doesn't happen very often - I'm firm in my refusal and clear about my reasoning while trying to maintain an attitude of compassion and kindness.  

But this time I was laughing too hard to myself to say anything.

Enough is Enough

At my morning meeting I heard a from a woman who has been feeling some angst at not attending as many meetings as she used to.  The justification was that her work schedule was the culprit.  Work is a very good culprit for not attending meetings.  Family obligations are also very popular.  As justifications go these are robust.  After all, it's not as if you can tell your small children: "Hey, can you get dressed, make breakfast, and then get to school this morning?  Daddy has to go to a meeting."

I've maintained over the years that I didn't get sober to sit in meetings.  But if I don't go to meetings my sobriety is strained.  If I missed a couple of weeks of meetings I don't believe that I'd drink but I'm pretty sure that my inner asshole would creep a little closer to the surface.  It's amazing how quickly the entire world degrades when I don't keep my Program up-to-date.

I'm always working a balancing act with my recovery and my life, although the two frequently intersect.  I've got a good feel internally as to how well the two are working.

More From Richard Peabody

A man who is on the wagon may be sober physically, but mentally he may be as alcohol-minded as if he were drunk.

It does little good for a man to endeavor to eliminate his habit until he considers it a sound, sensible, and desirable thing to do; something he would like to accomplish for his own sake; however difficult it may seem.  Incidentally for a man who is willing to buckle down to work the "difficulty" is always exaggerated in the beginning . . . 

The negative thoughts must be stopped, but the subject must not be repressed or even dropped from consciousness until it has been pursued to its logical conclusion with as many positive thoughts as possible.  Negative thoughts, given the chance, arise all to swiftly.  For emphasis I repeat: It is of supreme importance that positive thinking be employed whenever the subject comes up . . . 

As soon as the intellectual control is shaken at all, and it takes very little to shake it, his emotions immediately take control, which is almost the same as saying alcohol takes charge.  While in this condition he wants happiness and relaxation, and he wants them as soon as he can get them.

Refund, Baby

So now that I've inflated my own ego balloon let's take a more in-depth look at my behavior.  My thinking is pristine, my intentions faultless, my goals unassailable.  My actions?  Meh, don't look too close.

On our cruise I received a $500 ship credit if by "credit" you mean "I paid an extra $500 that was buried somewhere else in my fare."  Before we left on the cruise I booked a few shore excursions - guided hikes, mostly, for two city people who had absolutely no intention of wandering off into the Alaskan wilderness on trails that featured large signs at the trail head detailing what to do during a bear attack.  Most of them mentioned moose as well, astonishingly large animals - second in size on the North American continent only to a bison, whatever the fuck that is  - that can weigh close to 1500 lbs when fully dressed.  There was the occasional wolf reference as well.  I was a little afraid of the salmon so you can imagine the trepidation I felt considering a Seaweed-To-Beast confrontation with one of those other animals, toothy mammals, all.

Anyway, I booked these hikes and paid for them to ensure that we were guaranteed spots.  It is possible that there was some way to apply the shipboard credit to the bill but I didn't see it.  So once we were on the ship we spoke to some scrivener about applying the credit.  No problem.  I didn't believe this particular scrivener, being a paranoid cynic, so a few days later I snuck back down when he wasn't on duty and spoke to a lady scrivener.  She called up my account and confirmed the refund.

"$667 will be applied to your account," she said.

I didn't quibble with her.  I had no objection to that number.  I was keen to see that the number wasn't lower.  Higher was fine with me.  I didn't believe either of these people, anyway.  Since we were in Canada at that point I surmised that the refund was being applied in Canadian dollars.

When I got home there is was: $667 in good, old American dollars, taken right off my bill.

So, gentle readers, do I call attention to this?

Hmmmmm.

Money . . . That's What I want.

Control:  To dictate the behavior of (verb); influence or authority over something (noun).

I've been pondering this phenomenon of holding onto things.  The more tightly I grip them the more power they have over me.  The problem, as we all know, is that if I don't hold them tightly then I might lose my grip.  I might lose control.  Yet when I'm hanging on tightly I've already lost control.

See how frustrating this is?  There is so much shit in my recovery that is frustrating like this. 

Money is a particularly irritating subject in regards to control.  I take great pains to point out that I'm no longer in the position where I'm living on the edge financially - I spent a ton of time in this position and I know many of us come into The Rooms in this position - so please take this story with a grain of salt . . . 

This cruise we were on was a higher end cruise.  I got a great deal on it at the last minute.  I am, after all, my mother's son.  On the only other cruise we took the tips to the staff were not included - which was pretty irritating - but on this one they were - which was also pretty irritating.  I think the cruise lines should just pay their people well but there you go . . . 

We took some guided hikes on the trip at various ports and they were led by local guides.  On each one of these hikes (less one because the guides sucked) I tipped the guide $20.  For two people.  On hikes that lasted as long as seven hours.  I felt a little guilty about being so parsimonious until I realized I was the only person tipping anything.  I'm pretty sure there were a lot of wealthy people on the ship.  I'm pretty sure they could have afforded $20.  On the longest hike the young guy in charge was a high school teacher with 5 kids who was supplementing his income over the summer.  He couldn't have been making very much money.

Now maybe the other guests assumed that because tips were included for the ship's staff that they were also included for the tour guides.  That is so stupid it makes me laugh as I write it but I'm trying to be generous here.  The point I'm trying to make is that the $100 or so I tipped (and I'm rounding up, of course) has not changed my life but I think it was appreciated by the guides.  

I let loose of some of the money that I grasp so tightly and it set me free.

Big Nine

Peace:  A state free of oppressive or unpleasant thoughts and emotions; a state of tranquility, quiet, and harmony.

We discussed the 9th Step in today's meeting - the amends process.  I remind myself that the payoff of these often-difficult and much-feared amends is that The Promises begin to assert themselves with vigor.  

"What's the payoff?" alcoholics ask themselves.   We don't do anything unless there's a benefit, especially not anything hard.

Peace of mind.  That's the payoff, and that's a really large payoff.  What gives us more peace of mind than peace of mind?  My schtick about the 9th Step includes the assertion that I'm at peace with everyone in the world.  There isn't a person alive that I feel the need to avoid because of anything I've done or said in the past (Ed. Note: There are some people I avoid to avoid the irriation that their presence brings me).  And I'm pretty much at peace with the world's institutions as well.  That doesn't mean I welcome the odd letter from the IRS or the County Elections Board summoning me to jury duty but it does mean I'm not afraid that something in my past needs to be dealt with.

Good to be done with them, though.

The Sommelier Vs Us

I just got back from a cruise to Alaska.  The alcohol was included in my fare.  I know, I know.  There was a bottle of champagne on ice when we entered our cabin the first day.  Here's a fun fact - I would have put a hurting on that company 32 years ago.  I would, to this day, be on some secret Do Not Cruise list.  You know how gamblers are banned from casinos if they're caught counting cards?  By very large men in black suits and mirrored sunglasses?  Those men would have walked into my cabin and tossed me 8 stories into the water.  Without comment. 

Anyway, it wasn't a problem for either SuperK or me.  And we were flabbergasted to walk into a posted Friends of Bill W meeting and find someone there already.  We were fully prepared to sit in the card room for a few minutes and then go to dinner.  Moreover, eight people showed up - 4 of us with 30 years plus; 2 with over 20; one kook with 14; and a relative newcomer with 2 years.  One of the attendees was an employee on the ship with an obligation to host a nightly table in the main restaurant.  Because wine service was such an integral part of the experience he had to take a glass of wine, swirl it around, pretend to take a sip, then surreptitiously switch it with a co-worker who knew he was in recovery.  Ship management didn't want the guests to feel uncomfortable about drinking or he would have simply stated he was an alcoholic.

So he invited all eight of us to dinner one night, along with an Al-Anon spouse.  The first order of business for the restaurant staff was for the sommelier to present to the our host, with a great, somber flourish, the two wine selections for the evening.

"I don't drink," Doug said.  "And no one else at the table wants wine, either."

The sommelier gave him a look that we clearly interpreted as "I don't believe you."

"Go ahead," Doug said, with a bemused flourish right back at him.

The man began to describe the red wine.  The table was smiles all around.  A few of us were giggling.  His voice trailed off.  He trailed off, to many thanks from all of us.  

I caught his eye when he was replacing the bottles of wine.

"Has that ever happened before?" I asked.

"Never," he said.  "That has never happened before."

Score one for the home team.