I walked down to the rough meeting today in honor of my good friend Suburban Bill. As is to be expected, after 6 months there has been an almost total turnover of the members of the group. There were a few familiar faces, but not many. I'm sorry these folks didn't latch on to what we have more securely but glad for the reminder that what I have is no sure thing.
I think that I enjoy these meetings because I don't have so many expectations. At my normal suburban meetings I believe that I am The One - I need to share because I am way past profound and everyone will be immeasurably helped by my wisdom and insight. Today's group is large and transitional and I'm almost never called on to share. This is a good thing because I can actually try to listen to what others are saying instead of comprising my remarks in my head.
The meeting began with a call for a volunteer to read How It Works from our literature.
A guy pouring himself a cup of coffee spoke up: "That's me - just a minute." He poured some creamer into his cup. He got a stir stick and began to stir and stir and stir. He tasted the coffee, added some sugar, and stirred some more. It was all very deliberate and methodical and frankly quite hilarious. I thought he was doing a little bit of shtick. Eventually I realized that he was basically saying: "I'll get to this when I goddam feel like it." Someone else grabbed the sheet and read. The guy never did get back to his chair.
A guy talked about moving into a new place where he had his own bathroom. This resonated with the crowd - a lot of people talked about the joys of pooping in a private bathroom. It reminded me of the car I was driving at the end: it didn't have a radio or much of a heater and it didn't run very well if it was too cold or too hot or too wet or it hadn't been started in the last 20 minutes or so. And it only had one headlight - you want to attract some attention from the cops drive slowly around bad neighborhoods at 3 in the morning in a car with only one headlight. I should have just installed a big flashing neon "Drunk as Hell" sign on the roof. When I bought my first new car I couldn't believe how pleasant it was to own something that worked right. I turned the key and it started right up. Amazing.
Another guy was celebrating 60 days of continuous sobriety. He had recently completed an in-patient treatment program after being warned by his doctor that if he kept drinking he wouldn't last another 3 months. "So I had a good reason to stop," he said, in the understatement of the morning. Made me think about all of those people who blow through the Death stop sign and keep right on doing what they've been doing. Being told that you're going to die isn't much of a warning to some folks.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Pain
Pain: The condition or fact of suffering or anguish especially mental, as opposed to pleasure; torment;distress; sadness; grief; solicitude; disquietude.
And for those of us who use The A of A as a tool to stay sober, here are a few quotes - duly credited - from our literature about pain.
Actually, that doesn't sound too good. That doesn't sound too good at all. The literature isn't about pain. The word "pain" appears 12 times in the 12&12 and the first 164 pages of the Big Book. I would have thought it appeared dozens and dozens of time, forgetting that the literature is all about solving problems, about solutions, not about the problems themselves.
Actually, that doesn't sound too good. That doesn't sound too good at all. The literature isn't about pain. The word "pain" appears 12 times in the 12&12 and the first 164 pages of the Big Book. I would have thought it appeared dozens and dozens of time, forgetting that the literature is all about solving problems, about solutions, not about the problems themselves.
... pain, and even calamity turned to good ... 12&12 Step Twelve, p.112 
We know this because we see monotony, pain, and even calamity turned to good use by those who keep on trying to practice A.A.'s Twelve Steps.
... pain and problems. 12&12 Step Seven, p.74
... pain had been the price of admission ... 12&12 Step Seven, p.75
... pain less, and desire humility more than ... 12&12 Step Seven, p.75
... pain subsides, a healing tranquillity takes its ... 12&12 Step Five, p.62
... pain was the touchstone of all spiritual ... 12&12 Step Ten, p.93
Someone who knew what he was talking about once remarked that pain was the touchstone of all spiritual progress.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
No Pain - No Gain
The chairwoman at today's meeting was celebrating 3 years of continuous sobriety.
That's all I could get out before I got distracted. It reminded me of my good, good friends in The Old City interrupting me each year as I announced my anniversary: "That's continuous sobriety, Seaweed? It has to be continuous sobriety."
"Oh, continuous sobriety?" I'd reply. "I didn't know it had to be continuous."
Anyway, she had gone through a difficult year. There were some deaths and sickness to close family members; and she had made some big changes in her personal and business life voluntarily. It had been a painful time. I used to separate events into two camps: Good Stuff and Bad Stuff. Today I prefer thinking about Pleasant Things and Painful Things. I try not to use the good and bad qualifiers because I simply don't have the skills to see clearly into the future, my proclamations notwithstanding.
Our literature is full of references and examples about the presence of pain in our lives. It suggests that pain is not a bad thing; it isn't a pleasant thing but that isn't the same as bad. "Pain was the touchstone of all spiritual progress," to quote a wise man. "No pain - no gain," to quote some beefhead at the gym. I know that I don't tend to grow when I'm getting my way - it's when I'm hurting that I do the hard work to make changes for the better.
And I enjoy that I'm not peering into the future with a lot of fear and trepidation anymore. Part of this I attribute to the fact that I've lived through some difficult things - problems of money, power, and sex - without drinking and with relative good cheer. When I'm tempted to quake at some future calamity I can draw comfort from the fact that I'm going to get through it without drinking and with relative good cheer.
"Pain is inevitable - suffering is optional," to quote my chowderhead sponsor.
That's all I could get out before I got distracted. It reminded me of my good, good friends in The Old City interrupting me each year as I announced my anniversary: "That's continuous sobriety, Seaweed? It has to be continuous sobriety."
"Oh, continuous sobriety?" I'd reply. "I didn't know it had to be continuous."
Anyway, she had gone through a difficult year. There were some deaths and sickness to close family members; and she had made some big changes in her personal and business life voluntarily. It had been a painful time. I used to separate events into two camps: Good Stuff and Bad Stuff. Today I prefer thinking about Pleasant Things and Painful Things. I try not to use the good and bad qualifiers because I simply don't have the skills to see clearly into the future, my proclamations notwithstanding.
Our literature is full of references and examples about the presence of pain in our lives. It suggests that pain is not a bad thing; it isn't a pleasant thing but that isn't the same as bad. "Pain was the touchstone of all spiritual progress," to quote a wise man. "No pain - no gain," to quote some beefhead at the gym. I know that I don't tend to grow when I'm getting my way - it's when I'm hurting that I do the hard work to make changes for the better.
And I enjoy that I'm not peering into the future with a lot of fear and trepidation anymore. Part of this I attribute to the fact that I've lived through some difficult things - problems of money, power, and sex - without drinking and with relative good cheer. When I'm tempted to quake at some future calamity I can draw comfort from the fact that I'm going to get through it without drinking and with relative good cheer.
"Pain is inevitable - suffering is optional," to quote my chowderhead sponsor.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Seaweed - Summer Up of Great Truths
The guy who brought up the topic yesterday had in mind a discussion about regret in a general sense - most active drunks squander money, opportunities to succeed in business and school, relationships, and pretty much everything else. The crowd drifted toward the money and stuff part - often the first few people to talk set the tone for the meeting, and Stuff was on their minds.
I knew that the chairguy wasn't talking about Stuff specifically - in fact, after the mid-point break he emphasized this, which did nothing to stem the tide of all the willful alcoholics in the room. After the meeting I approached him - as did SuperK - and we told him that we got what he was trying to say. He was relieved. He thought that he had kicked off a bad meeting, which I've been told by some don't exist. He thanked us for talking to him.
"The thing is," I said. "You didn't call on me. THAT was the problem."
"I was working around the room, Seaweed," he said. "I was trying to get to you . . . "
"You don't get to me," I interrupted, putting my arm around his shoulder. "You start with me. I'm the headliner here. Drunks come from miles around to hear my wisdom. The only reason not to start with me is if you want a big finish, someone to sum it all up for everyone else."
I really did say that. This guy is my friend so he laughed it off. He knows about my bad sense of humor. I didn't mean most of it although there's a little, teeny, tiny part of me that believes it to be fact.
Well, not so teeny, tiny, unfortunately.
I knew that the chairguy wasn't talking about Stuff specifically - in fact, after the mid-point break he emphasized this, which did nothing to stem the tide of all the willful alcoholics in the room. After the meeting I approached him - as did SuperK - and we told him that we got what he was trying to say. He was relieved. He thought that he had kicked off a bad meeting, which I've been told by some don't exist. He thanked us for talking to him.
"The thing is," I said. "You didn't call on me. THAT was the problem."
"I was working around the room, Seaweed," he said. "I was trying to get to you . . . "
"You don't get to me," I interrupted, putting my arm around his shoulder. "You start with me. I'm the headliner here. Drunks come from miles around to hear my wisdom. The only reason not to start with me is if you want a big finish, someone to sum it all up for everyone else."
I really did say that. This guy is my friend so he laughed it off. He knows about my bad sense of humor. I didn't mean most of it although there's a little, teeny, tiny part of me that believes it to be fact.
Well, not so teeny, tiny, unfortunately.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
I Could Have Been a Contenda!
Regret: To feel sorry about (a thing that has happened), afterthink: to wish that a thing had not happened, that something else had happened instead.
"We will not regret the past or wish to shut the door on it." This standout member of The Promises was essentially the topic at today's morning meeting, with our chairman tacking on the following addendum: ". . . although we may from time to time we may really slam the shit out of the door in spite of ourselves, wishes and wants notwithstanding."
My tendency is to find problems. I'm an alcoholic who loves to be miserable, apparently, given all of the time I spend trying to find things to be miserable about. There are some popular destinations: the future is always good, imagining horrible outcomes to disastrous plans; resentments against people, places, and things is very popular, and deliciously satisfying; and cruising back into days of yore, regretting our actions, ruing our choices, bemoaning what coulda shoulda mighta been. One little old lady said: "I coulda been a contenda!"
The past is, I think, an inevitable destination from time to time for the best of us. I personally spent four and a half years pursuing a very specific eight year degree, although I was trying to get it done in six years, killing myself with summer school and ridiculously heavy class loads. Then, I simply quit doing the work and I drank full time. I didn't make a conscious decision to do this, I simply began to drink as much as I wanted whenever I wanted to. I didn't let any stinking work requirements get in my way.
And, yes, they kicked me out.
From time to time I wonder: "What if?" But I don't dwell there. I'm in a good spot, living a great life. I did what I had to do to get where I am now. My life would have been different if I had finished this degree. Would it have been better? I don't know the answer to that. It would have been different. What is is what is.
"We will not regret the past or wish to shut the door on it." This standout member of The Promises was essentially the topic at today's morning meeting, with our chairman tacking on the following addendum: ". . . although we may from time to time we may really slam the shit out of the door in spite of ourselves, wishes and wants notwithstanding."
My tendency is to find problems. I'm an alcoholic who loves to be miserable, apparently, given all of the time I spend trying to find things to be miserable about. There are some popular destinations: the future is always good, imagining horrible outcomes to disastrous plans; resentments against people, places, and things is very popular, and deliciously satisfying; and cruising back into days of yore, regretting our actions, ruing our choices, bemoaning what coulda shoulda mighta been. One little old lady said: "I coulda been a contenda!"
The past is, I think, an inevitable destination from time to time for the best of us. I personally spent four and a half years pursuing a very specific eight year degree, although I was trying to get it done in six years, killing myself with summer school and ridiculously heavy class loads. Then, I simply quit doing the work and I drank full time. I didn't make a conscious decision to do this, I simply began to drink as much as I wanted whenever I wanted to. I didn't let any stinking work requirements get in my way.
And, yes, they kicked me out.
From time to time I wonder: "What if?" But I don't dwell there. I'm in a good spot, living a great life. I did what I had to do to get where I am now. My life would have been different if I had finished this degree. Would it have been better? I don't know the answer to that. It would have been different. What is is what is.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Seaweed: Employee of the Year
Here's another funny thing about alcoholics. Here's a funny thing about me, anyway, if by "funny" you mean "man, are you kidding me?" - I spent my whole life behaving selfishly, and then when I started to act like a reasonable human being I was pissed that I didn't get some kind of award for it.
A friend of mine told this story: "I was always late for work and I was always getting in trouble because I showed up late. I finally starting arriving when I was supposed to - when everyone else did - and developed a resentment that I wasn't singled out for special recognition. I started doing what everyone else was doing already, some of them covering for me because I wasn't on time, and I wanted an Employee of the Month plaque."
It is interesting to note that when I started to show up on time and working until the end of the day; when I did the tasks assigned to me without bitching or slacking or arguing; when I actually worked when I was at work, rather than surfing sports and porn sites; when I realized that my bosses weren't interested in me telling them how to do their jobs; and when I tried to be friendly and supportive to my co-workers - THEN my work life improved. I got promotions and raises and good reviews.
I had no idea.
A friend of mine told this story: "I was always late for work and I was always getting in trouble because I showed up late. I finally starting arriving when I was supposed to - when everyone else did - and developed a resentment that I wasn't singled out for special recognition. I started doing what everyone else was doing already, some of them covering for me because I wasn't on time, and I wanted an Employee of the Month plaque."
It is interesting to note that when I started to show up on time and working until the end of the day; when I did the tasks assigned to me without bitching or slacking or arguing; when I actually worked when I was at work, rather than surfing sports and porn sites; when I realized that my bosses weren't interested in me telling them how to do their jobs; and when I tried to be friendly and supportive to my co-workers - THEN my work life improved. I got promotions and raises and good reviews.
I had no idea.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Step One, Being the First Step . . .
.Control: To exercise influence over; to suggest or dictate the behavior of, oversit.
After I spoke with my Old City sponsor yesterday and was thrown out of the house, I went down and had a lovely coffee at my favorite coffee shop, sitting outside in the sun on a beautiful day, while SuperK worked away at home doing things that I thought were unnecessary, an opinion shared by exactly no one else currently alive on this earth. When it's 6,973,738,433 to one you know you're swimming upstream. NASA was reporting signals coming from distant planets circled by dying suns agreeing with the decision to do the things that I deemed unnecessary.
When I came home SuperK, The Stager, AND The Professional Photographer were in the condo. I immediately threw myself out of the house. I went down to our small storage locker in the basement and loaded up the truck with many, many boxes of crap that we should have thrown away 4 moves ago. I did have to first remove the offending chair, the source of yesterday's thrown-out-of-the-house rationale - I handled it gingerly in case it was a grudge-bearing chair. One can never be too careful. I drove the crap over to a much larger storage container that we have rented to store the crap in, at a not insignificant price. Smart people throw away the crap at the start - I choose to move mine around, trapped in a devilish maze of circular logic.
"Who exactly is in charge here?" I groused. "Me, or the crap?" I didn't answer myself.
Our real estate agent is a lovely, lovely woman that I'm very fond of. She knew that I was not happy. I always think I'm fooling people when I'm acting like an ass but I'm never fooling anyone. This is why I try not to act like an ass - that, and the amends stuff, which I loathe doing being a faultless, arrogant prick. My lovely, lovely wife had a talk with the agent, explaining that I'm a control freak and I get frustrated when I lose control, which I do all most all of the time. There's a reason that we have a Step One in our Twelve Step Program. For the novice let me paraphrase Step One: "You are not in control of ANYTHING!"
I timed my return home to coincide with the offending people vacating the premises. SuperK suggested that I write a short email to the agent; an excellent suggestion. The email was very, very well received. Alcoholics aren't the only people that think it's all about them; they're not the only people that think that they need to change something to make other people happy. I had to emphasize repeatedly that it had nothing to do with anyone but me.`
Everything is about me.
After I spoke with my Old City sponsor yesterday and was thrown out of the house, I went down and had a lovely coffee at my favorite coffee shop, sitting outside in the sun on a beautiful day, while SuperK worked away at home doing things that I thought were unnecessary, an opinion shared by exactly no one else currently alive on this earth. When it's 6,973,738,433 to one you know you're swimming upstream. NASA was reporting signals coming from distant planets circled by dying suns agreeing with the decision to do the things that I deemed unnecessary.
When I came home SuperK, The Stager, AND The Professional Photographer were in the condo. I immediately threw myself out of the house. I went down to our small storage locker in the basement and loaded up the truck with many, many boxes of crap that we should have thrown away 4 moves ago. I did have to first remove the offending chair, the source of yesterday's thrown-out-of-the-house rationale - I handled it gingerly in case it was a grudge-bearing chair. One can never be too careful. I drove the crap over to a much larger storage container that we have rented to store the crap in, at a not insignificant price. Smart people throw away the crap at the start - I choose to move mine around, trapped in a devilish maze of circular logic.
"Who exactly is in charge here?" I groused. "Me, or the crap?" I didn't answer myself.
Our real estate agent is a lovely, lovely woman that I'm very fond of. She knew that I was not happy. I always think I'm fooling people when I'm acting like an ass but I'm never fooling anyone. This is why I try not to act like an ass - that, and the amends stuff, which I loathe doing being a faultless, arrogant prick. My lovely, lovely wife had a talk with the agent, explaining that I'm a control freak and I get frustrated when I lose control, which I do all most all of the time. There's a reason that we have a Step One in our Twelve Step Program. For the novice let me paraphrase Step One: "You are not in control of ANYTHING!"
I timed my return home to coincide with the offending people vacating the premises. SuperK suggested that I write a short email to the agent; an excellent suggestion. The email was very, very well received. Alcoholics aren't the only people that think it's all about them; they're not the only people that think that they need to change something to make other people happy. I had to emphasize repeatedly that it had nothing to do with anyone but me.`
Everything is about me.
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