Honor ALL of the Feelings

I am aware each and every day of the blessing of my sobriety.  I am aware that I am living a life of great privilege and that it's a life I did not expect and one that I would not have pursued.  The gift of sobriety and the gifts I accrue following a spiritual life have come as a surprise.  I never thought, never figured out, that material possessions and deep, meaningful relationships come as a result of right living.  I was under the impression that if I already had a good job and lots of stuff and friends and a good partner then I would be happy.  I didn't grasp the truth that I needed to become the best version of my own self to be able to appreciate having these things and - even more incredibly - that if I didn't accumulate them to the level I wanted I'd be okay with that, too.

I speak regularly with my brother Willie.  We have an easy rapport.  I know that if I'm hurting he's got my back and vice versa.  This understanding means that each of us can take liberties with the relationship.  To wit: on our last call he shared some frustration he was having with his boss . . .  who he does not like.  This is real, this kind of anger and frustration and fear, and we have to honor this in our fellows.  It's natural to feel these kinds of feelings sometimes and our job as spiritual people is to empathize and support our friends (and even our not-so-friends) when they're going through them.  It's unkind to imply they shouldn't be having these feelings or that if they were more grateful for all their blessings then they'd be able to overcome the fear or resentment.  For example, I have been upset at the machinations I've had to go through and the hoops through which I've had to jump and the money that's coming out of my pocket to fix the damage done to my brand new car by someone who wasn't considerate enough to leave a note, someone I would like to poison with plutonium or incapacitate by slipping ground up glass into their oatmeal.  A quick death is not going to be good enough for me.  I intuitively understand that these little troubles won't amount to a hill of beans in the long run but it would be unkind for someone to tell me to shake it off, to get over it, to count my blessings instead of tallying up my defeats, to remember that at least I have a new car.  I will come to that eventually but right now I'm imagining hot pokers being inserted into . . . well . . . I'll leave everything to your imagination.

Here's the fun: while I listened to Willie and I empathized and I didn't discount or brush off his frustration I have the kind of relationship where, after a minute, I could say to him - I could interrupt him while he was talking, in fact - and remark: "Let me get this straight - you make a lot of money working two days a week and you're bitching about your boss?"

His response was perfect: "Fuck you.  Fuck you!  Why do I pick up the phone when you call?"  We were both roaring with laughter.  On the surface my comment was brutal but my timing was so exquisite I knew I'd get away with it.  Be supportive and be honest and know when to do which.

An update: my A.A. daughter offered to accompany the new girl to the hospital yesterday to get some help detoxing.  It was arranged.  It did not happen.  Radio silence from the new girl.  We are frustrating, heart-breaking people.