I Am Recovered-ing

There's this little contingent in our local AA scene who prefers the word "recovered" to "recovering."  Their point seems to be that implying that one's alcoholism is an active, ongoing concern is a lousy message to send to new people who might think: "What's the use if I never get cured?"  Personally I don't give a shit what these people say.  Personally, I'm never going to fool around with the idea that drinking again is an impossibility.  Unlikely, yes, but not impossible.  A well-stocked liquor store is a short drive away.  I just don't see the point of getting sucked into a semantic maze of circular logic.

I think it was Dr. Bob who said something along the lines of "If I keep doing what I've been doing I don't believe I'll ever have to take another drink." 

That I like.  That I can live with.

In The Moment

Moving into the future, calmly and slowly, or at least as calmly and slowly as I can.  This means I'm moving at about 80 MPH.  This is still fast by most standards but it's a lot slower than 145 MPH.  My inclination is still to mash down on the accelerator.  Fast is better than slow.  Fast is always better than slow.

I have enough; I am enough; I do enough.

Happiness is living in the moment.

Came To Believe

A phrase I like: "Came.  Came to.  Came to believe."  Nice and steady, nice and slow.

And another: "We get better physically, then mentally, then emotionally, then spiritually."

One of the guys I've enjoyed watching progress in his recovery from Day One spoke at the meeting this morning.  He took his girlfriend and her three little girls out trick or treating last night.  He was driving down a residential street with the four of them when someone on the sidewalk yelled at him to slow down.  He didn't think he was speeding, of course.  We're NEVER speeding.  We're the best fucking drivers in the world.

He stopped his car, opened the window, and said: "You're right.  I'm sorry about that" and then drove off.  Twenty five yards down the road he called her a bad name, a very bad name.  A couple of years ago he regaled me with a story about taking such offense at someone who honked at him that he followed the driver for a while, making himself late for the meeting in the process.  I have teased him unmercifully about driving ever since so today I made sure I told him that his behavior showed a lot of growth.

"I swore at this woman," he protested.

"I don't care," I said.  "Maybe later, maybe not so long, you won't do that, either.  You'll just think venomous thoughts while keeping your mouth shut.  One step at a time."

I really learned a lot this morning.