A friend of mine has been struggling with his marriage. He has two small children and a wife who does a little alcoholic drinking on the side as well as in the front with the side yard not being out of the question. He has been trying to hold his family together but it isn't going very well. I applaud his efforts - seeing a counselor on his own and also with his wife in addition to the usual Program outreach. As a man who generally can't find his ass with both hands I try to stay out of the advice business. My track record as a low-grade idiot doesn't qualify me to tell people where to get a good hamburger let alone pass out marriage counseling or career advice. He's doing the right legwork and he has a sponsor that the talks to on a regular basis. Our conversations are much more infrequent so I tell him to listen to people that are getting the frequent updates.
A few days ago he told me that he had been having the occasional nip on the Listerine bottle. Drinking mouthwash is dicey business for just about anyone but this dude is a diabetic so god in his heaven only knows what kind of risks he's taking.
This time I gave out some advice with a Capital A, along the lines of: "If there is something going on in my personal life: marriage or child-rearing issues, problems with my parents or financial difficulties or anything at work - I don't give a shit what it is - that's leading me to a plastic mouthwash bottle on a regular basis I'm going to take a long, hard look at the situation."
There is nothing worth dying for.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Additional Particulars
SuperK and I are trying to take a vacation to India. This morning the operative word is "trying." We will go as long as the Indians permit us access to their country which is dubious at the moment. We sent in our laughably long application a couple of weeks ago - faithfully, to the best of our honest ability, completing everything required: the application itself along with many, many forms, copies of forms, a lengthy check list, and two copies of the fucking checklist. I thought the checklist was for the sender, not the receiver - are they telling me they don't know what forms they're supposed to get? They also required our passports and copies of our passports - which they were getting - and FedEx pre-paid return envelopes and copies of the pre-paid return envelopes. There was something called an Additional Particulars form. I didn't see a Particulars form anywhere so I don't know what the "additional" referred to - why didn't they just put everything on the Particulars form and be done with it?
I'm guessing these people don't have a copy machine. I'm surprised we didn't have to send in an entire copy machine with the application.
My In Box contained a message from the Visa people - I opened this email which detailed our shortcomings right after I got up. As you might imagine, this information wrecked my Quiet Time. It was 6 in the morning, long before the office opened, and a Monday as well, usually the worst time to try to call some totally screwed up contracted company servicing a foreign country in a city far, far from mine.
Our 11th Step suggests that a logically interlinked program of prayer, meditation, and self-examination is going to produce more powerful results than any of the three taken alone. Being Too Cool For Prayer I had neglected this leg of the stool for most of my sobriety. Then, because I try to stay teachable, I started to hear some people in Vacation City talk about prayer changing the person doing the praying, not the thing or person or whatever being prayed to. I liked this approach so I started some very tentative praying, trying to be careful not to tell my Higher Power what to do or to pray for specific results or to ask that other people be cured of any maladies or defects they might have that are annoying me.
The Step includes this phrase: "Just saying (a favorite prayer) over and over will often enable us to clear a channel choked up with anger, fear, frustration, or misunderstanding, and permit us to return to the surest help of all - our search for god's will, not our own, in the moment of stress."
I used my own little mantra to great effect on my current Problem of Prosperity. Every time a negative, bothersome, worrying thought entered my head I spoke the series of words I use to try to calm myself. Remember when you were 3 years old or maybe a cable news commentator and you'd try to win an argument by simply shouting louder than your opponent? That's kind of the idea here - talk over the negative thoughts with some positive ones. It's not especially deep or creative but it works, and some times the simplest ideas are the best.
I'm guessing these people don't have a copy machine. I'm surprised we didn't have to send in an entire copy machine with the application.
My In Box contained a message from the Visa people - I opened this email which detailed our shortcomings right after I got up. As you might imagine, this information wrecked my Quiet Time. It was 6 in the morning, long before the office opened, and a Monday as well, usually the worst time to try to call some totally screwed up contracted company servicing a foreign country in a city far, far from mine.
Our 11th Step suggests that a logically interlinked program of prayer, meditation, and self-examination is going to produce more powerful results than any of the three taken alone. Being Too Cool For Prayer I had neglected this leg of the stool for most of my sobriety. Then, because I try to stay teachable, I started to hear some people in Vacation City talk about prayer changing the person doing the praying, not the thing or person or whatever being prayed to. I liked this approach so I started some very tentative praying, trying to be careful not to tell my Higher Power what to do or to pray for specific results or to ask that other people be cured of any maladies or defects they might have that are annoying me.
The Step includes this phrase: "Just saying (a favorite prayer) over and over will often enable us to clear a channel choked up with anger, fear, frustration, or misunderstanding, and permit us to return to the surest help of all - our search for god's will, not our own, in the moment of stress."
I used my own little mantra to great effect on my current Problem of Prosperity. Every time a negative, bothersome, worrying thought entered my head I spoke the series of words I use to try to calm myself. Remember when you were 3 years old or maybe a cable news commentator and you'd try to win an argument by simply shouting louder than your opponent? That's kind of the idea here - talk over the negative thoughts with some positive ones. It's not especially deep or creative but it works, and some times the simplest ideas are the best.
Monday, November 17, 2014
When All Else Fails - Pool Story!
How about a pool story? I usually get a good pool story every couple of months. I'll probably tell my sponsor about it later on, probably more than once - he's a little forgetful at this point. He'll get to say "Principles before personalities" which is one of the things he tells me all the time, a strong indicator that I suck at it.
There's this little old man that shows up at the pool from time to time. He does some walking and he also does a hilarious imitation of a back stroke - he looks like a baby bird trying to peck its way out of an egg - where he takes up both sides of whatever lane he's hogging. I almost ran headlong into him a few weeks back when he jumped into the lane I was using without giving me a heads up. I could be more aware of my surroundings, I guess, but I have on befogged goggles and mostly I'm trying not to drown or strangle for lack of oxygen. I don't mind sharing a lane in the least but please alert me so that we don't conk heads. I was a little pissed. Two men swimming in opposite directions running into each other is not in my exercise routine, and I've done it a couple of times. It's no fun.
Yesterday, as I was enjoying a post-swim soak in the hot tub, I watched a friend have a confusing conversation with the bird back-stroke guy about who owned which towel. The towels were close shades of pewter or beige or something. Eventually, they got it sorted out. Always the funny man I suggested to my friend that he needed an interior decorator if he wanted to be sure that he got the right towel. He leaned over the hot tub and said that bird guy likes to use the end hook so he just moves anything that may already be there - towels, gym bags, goggles - and hangs up his own stuff. My buddy didn't exactly remember what color towel he brought. He seemed a little pissed - there are like 45 hooks in the pool, most of them empty.
Here's where I come in. . .
There are 8 showers in the locker room and 8 hooks, leading one to believe that each shower user gets one hook and one hook only. Nobody gets 2 hooks and 3 hooks is right out. However, if one should find no hooks available one would be within one's rights to bitch up a blue streak unless maybe someone left something by mistake on one of the hooks, and that stuff could just be dumped on the floor or pitched into a garbage pail - if you can't remember to take your shit with you then maybe you should stay out of my shower room. When I got into the showers the room was completely empty so I took two hooks, an extravagance that seemed reasonable given the lack of shower-ers. A few minutes later, shampoo running into my eyes, I see bird man holding my gym bag through the translucent curtain, asking: "Is this yours?" I just looked at him, debating whether or not to point out that there wasn't anyone else in the fucking room and could he please replace my fucking gym bag?
"Yes?" he pressed, busily rearranging my towel and my gym bag on one hook so he could use the shower right next door and claim the extra hook that I piggishly had taken, a hook which in fact belonged to the shower he was preparing to use. I had to hold my tongue. I was trampling on my own shower room rules and had no right to complain, even though the guy reminded me of someone coming into a completely empty movie theater and taking the seat right next to yours. Yeah, the seat IS empty but really?
I have no idea what the message is here. Send me a note if it makes sense to you, unless you happen to be the bird back-stroke guy.
There's this little old man that shows up at the pool from time to time. He does some walking and he also does a hilarious imitation of a back stroke - he looks like a baby bird trying to peck its way out of an egg - where he takes up both sides of whatever lane he's hogging. I almost ran headlong into him a few weeks back when he jumped into the lane I was using without giving me a heads up. I could be more aware of my surroundings, I guess, but I have on befogged goggles and mostly I'm trying not to drown or strangle for lack of oxygen. I don't mind sharing a lane in the least but please alert me so that we don't conk heads. I was a little pissed. Two men swimming in opposite directions running into each other is not in my exercise routine, and I've done it a couple of times. It's no fun.
Yesterday, as I was enjoying a post-swim soak in the hot tub, I watched a friend have a confusing conversation with the bird back-stroke guy about who owned which towel. The towels were close shades of pewter or beige or something. Eventually, they got it sorted out. Always the funny man I suggested to my friend that he needed an interior decorator if he wanted to be sure that he got the right towel. He leaned over the hot tub and said that bird guy likes to use the end hook so he just moves anything that may already be there - towels, gym bags, goggles - and hangs up his own stuff. My buddy didn't exactly remember what color towel he brought. He seemed a little pissed - there are like 45 hooks in the pool, most of them empty.
Here's where I come in. . .
There are 8 showers in the locker room and 8 hooks, leading one to believe that each shower user gets one hook and one hook only. Nobody gets 2 hooks and 3 hooks is right out. However, if one should find no hooks available one would be within one's rights to bitch up a blue streak unless maybe someone left something by mistake on one of the hooks, and that stuff could just be dumped on the floor or pitched into a garbage pail - if you can't remember to take your shit with you then maybe you should stay out of my shower room. When I got into the showers the room was completely empty so I took two hooks, an extravagance that seemed reasonable given the lack of shower-ers. A few minutes later, shampoo running into my eyes, I see bird man holding my gym bag through the translucent curtain, asking: "Is this yours?" I just looked at him, debating whether or not to point out that there wasn't anyone else in the fucking room and could he please replace my fucking gym bag?
"Yes?" he pressed, busily rearranging my towel and my gym bag on one hook so he could use the shower right next door and claim the extra hook that I piggishly had taken, a hook which in fact belonged to the shower he was preparing to use. I had to hold my tongue. I was trampling on my own shower room rules and had no right to complain, even though the guy reminded me of someone coming into a completely empty movie theater and taking the seat right next to yours. Yeah, the seat IS empty but really?
I have no idea what the message is here. Send me a note if it makes sense to you, unless you happen to be the bird back-stroke guy.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
More Cancer Stuff
I'm trying to talk to my dying sponsor every day, and I'm getting close. He spends a fair amount of time on the phone with me. He's always attended a lot of meetings and is a pretty social guy so I'm guessing it's pretty boring lying in a hospital bed, trying to fight off the disease that's going to kill you. That was a topic of discussion today - exactly how the cancer kills a person. Amazing some of the things that two guys can talk about. It's wasn't about how the cancer kills just anyone, either - it was about how the cancer is going to kill him.
He mentioned recently that the doctors decided to prescribe the pill form of medical marijuana to try to stimulate an appetite that has been compromised by the cancer and the treatment for the cancer - sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. You don't eat you lose your ability to fight off the attackers, but when food tastes like metal and it makes you nauseous you don't want to eat, and ya gotta eat. We had a giggle over the pot pill.
"Man, I think you lost your sobriety," I offered. He giggled. He's been giggling a lot lately. He wonders if it's the pot pill - I suspect that the hydrocodone he's taking to combat the cancer pain is probably overwhelming whatever effect the THC is having and he needs both of them, by the way.
He tells me that story every time I call. I don't care - it's a good story. I tell him what chores I'm running and what I had for lunch. I think he enjoys the stories. I enjoy talking about myself, anyway.
He mentioned recently that the doctors decided to prescribe the pill form of medical marijuana to try to stimulate an appetite that has been compromised by the cancer and the treatment for the cancer - sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. You don't eat you lose your ability to fight off the attackers, but when food tastes like metal and it makes you nauseous you don't want to eat, and ya gotta eat. We had a giggle over the pot pill.
"Man, I think you lost your sobriety," I offered. He giggled. He's been giggling a lot lately. He wonders if it's the pot pill - I suspect that the hydrocodone he's taking to combat the cancer pain is probably overwhelming whatever effect the THC is having and he needs both of them, by the way.
He tells me that story every time I call. I don't care - it's a good story. I tell him what chores I'm running and what I had for lunch. I think he enjoys the stories. I enjoy talking about myself, anyway.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Girly Guy Vs. Guy Guy
Tolerant: Tending to permit, allow, understand, or accept something.
My sponsor continues his downward slide. If you ask me I'll tell you that this is NOT what I signed up for. I think more along the lines of good things - sunny mornings and fresh-baked cookies and kitty cats, that kind of stuff. Death? Not so much. I still labor under the illusion that pain and suffering should be optional and No . . . I am NOT 5 years old.
I would not say that tolerance for others is one of my strong suits. Honestly, I don't know what any of my strong suits are. I may not have any strong suits. It may all be weak suits. In fact, I laughed out loud when I read the definition of the word "tolerant." Guffaw comes to mind as a qualifier. If I had been drinking a glass of milk some would have come out of my nose.
There's a Program guy back in The Old City who was never one of my favorite people. I wouldn't say that I actively dislike him just that he has certain attitudes about life that rub me the wrong way. He's not a bad guy - he has plenty of friends but I don't really consider myself one of them. More of a fellow traveler, a comrade-in-arms, someone I'd help but not hang out with.
Anyway, the dude is stopping by every day to visit my sponsor. I wouldn't have expected this but isn't there something about expectations in our literature? To wit: as my expectations increase so does my tendency to act like an ass-wipe? I'm seeing the dude differently - he's making a hell of an effort.
There's Program guy here in Vacation City that I know casually but don't consider a close friend. He's kind of a Guy Guy and I'm more of a Girly Guy so we don't meet in the middle too often - he's the kind of Guy who was always beating me up. I was talking to my Vacation City sponsor yesterday about the death watch and he mentioned that this Guy Guy had also recently lost a long term sponsor to cancer. At my meeting last night I had a nice talk with Guy Guy about this stuff. It was a good talk. Turns out he's OK. I have learned some patience in my life, letting things come to me and evolve and clear up - I feel better about Guy Guy and I think it was a relationship that didn't have a chance to establish itself without such a common experience.
Could I maybe look for the good in someone instead of the bad?
My sponsor continues his downward slide. If you ask me I'll tell you that this is NOT what I signed up for. I think more along the lines of good things - sunny mornings and fresh-baked cookies and kitty cats, that kind of stuff. Death? Not so much. I still labor under the illusion that pain and suffering should be optional and No . . . I am NOT 5 years old.
I would not say that tolerance for others is one of my strong suits. Honestly, I don't know what any of my strong suits are. I may not have any strong suits. It may all be weak suits. In fact, I laughed out loud when I read the definition of the word "tolerant." Guffaw comes to mind as a qualifier. If I had been drinking a glass of milk some would have come out of my nose.
There's a Program guy back in The Old City who was never one of my favorite people. I wouldn't say that I actively dislike him just that he has certain attitudes about life that rub me the wrong way. He's not a bad guy - he has plenty of friends but I don't really consider myself one of them. More of a fellow traveler, a comrade-in-arms, someone I'd help but not hang out with.
Anyway, the dude is stopping by every day to visit my sponsor. I wouldn't have expected this but isn't there something about expectations in our literature? To wit: as my expectations increase so does my tendency to act like an ass-wipe? I'm seeing the dude differently - he's making a hell of an effort.
There's Program guy here in Vacation City that I know casually but don't consider a close friend. He's kind of a Guy Guy and I'm more of a Girly Guy so we don't meet in the middle too often - he's the kind of Guy who was always beating me up. I was talking to my Vacation City sponsor yesterday about the death watch and he mentioned that this Guy Guy had also recently lost a long term sponsor to cancer. At my meeting last night I had a nice talk with Guy Guy about this stuff. It was a good talk. Turns out he's OK. I have learned some patience in my life, letting things come to me and evolve and clear up - I feel better about Guy Guy and I think it was a relationship that didn't have a chance to establish itself without such a common experience.
Could I maybe look for the good in someone instead of the bad?
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Dammit anyway.
I am talking to my Old City sponsor every day at this point. His cancer has a lot of momentum and is romping forward gleefully. He's a hospice patient which means that his care now revolves around pain management and end of life quality issues. Our conversations have been on the topic of death and dying, being prepared for what's next, spiritual certainty, and other threads that are grim on the surface but end up being strangely uplifting, and this despite his attempts to steer the conversation back to me and my circumstances. Alcoholics make a big deal out of standing tall and facing our problems instead of running away in fear. It isn't pleasant doing this. I feel weirdly disconnected as I do it. I can't believe it's me in the middle of these talks, and I'm not the guy who's sick.
I've been swimming against the tide of some low-level anxiety the last couple of weeks. A lot of the time I can put my finger on what idiotic, unimportant problem of prosperity is bothering me, but this spell has been of the free-floating variety. I'm not an overly emotional guy - I'm pretty steady-as-she goes in my approach to life, never too up and never too down. Still, I think this is affecting me in a way that I can't really appreciate right now. I don't feel Upset!! but I think I'm upset, and I think it's the impending death of this man.
Little Westside Jonny helped a posse of guys from one of my sponsor's regular groups take a meeting into his care facility last night. He said it was a powerful meeting, listing the same reasons that I've just finished detailing when I asked him to clarify his remarks. Men and women on a true spiritual path inspire in so many ways.
I've been swimming against the tide of some low-level anxiety the last couple of weeks. A lot of the time I can put my finger on what idiotic, unimportant problem of prosperity is bothering me, but this spell has been of the free-floating variety. I'm not an overly emotional guy - I'm pretty steady-as-she goes in my approach to life, never too up and never too down. Still, I think this is affecting me in a way that I can't really appreciate right now. I don't feel Upset!! but I think I'm upset, and I think it's the impending death of this man.
Little Westside Jonny helped a posse of guys from one of my sponsor's regular groups take a meeting into his care facility last night. He said it was a powerful meeting, listing the same reasons that I've just finished detailing when I asked him to clarify his remarks. Men and women on a true spiritual path inspire in so many ways.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Retreat!
I went to a men's recovery retreat over the weekend. I thought it was a little clique-ey. - clearly a lot of the attendees knew each other pretty well from a large men's meeting in the area. I didn't like the food, either, and the room was beat to shit.
Other than that, it was great!
Retreat: A period of retirement, seclusion, or solitude.
I attended a lot of retreats at a very nice retreat center in The Old City, with a lot of guys that I've known for a long time. Obviously, this new retreat was at a big disadvantage going in. I wasn't knocking myself out talking to people I didn't know at the old retreats when I had the option of sitting down and catching up with someone I've known for many years but didn't get to see on a regular basis. Still, I don't think most of the guys I saw this weekend could tell you shit about me. That's not the best way to be grow your attendance. I'm pretty outgoing, too, so it's kind of weird when I don't fit in somewhere quickly.
Maybe they didn't care for me. Maybe the couldn't stand me. Maybe some of them hated my guts. Maybe they're not thinking about me at all.
It was a new thing I tried. That's the thing about new things - sometimes they suck a little bit.
Eh, what can you do? I can not go back, I'll tell you that.
Other than that, it was great!
Retreat: A period of retirement, seclusion, or solitude.
I attended a lot of retreats at a very nice retreat center in The Old City, with a lot of guys that I've known for a long time. Obviously, this new retreat was at a big disadvantage going in. I wasn't knocking myself out talking to people I didn't know at the old retreats when I had the option of sitting down and catching up with someone I've known for many years but didn't get to see on a regular basis. Still, I don't think most of the guys I saw this weekend could tell you shit about me. That's not the best way to be grow your attendance. I'm pretty outgoing, too, so it's kind of weird when I don't fit in somewhere quickly.
Maybe they didn't care for me. Maybe the couldn't stand me. Maybe some of them hated my guts. Maybe they're not thinking about me at all.
It was a new thing I tried. That's the thing about new things - sometimes they suck a little bit.
Eh, what can you do? I can not go back, I'll tell you that.
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