A young woman who was at my meeting yesterday expressed some trepidation about an upcoming business trip. There was going to be an open bar which is a particularly nice kind of bar for an alcoholic. Honestly, we like bars. We like all of 'em. I can't really remember a bar that I didn't like, and I got beat up outside a few of them.
A lot of good, practical suggestions were offered: taking along some literature and a bunch of phone numbers; scoping out Meetings that might be in the area; carrying around a glass of tonic with a lime in case anyone asks why you're not drinking, even though no one ever does. I always had this line ready: "I think I have the stomach flu and I'm really, really, really queasy." That one got people backpedaling. No one brought me a drink after that, although sometimes they would ask the next morning how I was feeling.
"Fine. Why do you ask?" I'd say, suspicious of their motive, totally oblivious to my lie of the day before.
I think it all goes back to the basic fact that I'm not nearly as interesting to everyone else as I am to myself. I never think about anyone else -- ever -- yet I'm under the impression that everyone else is thinking about me -- constantly. My self-centered arrogance is truly spectacular.
I had a job at one point where every now and then the owner of the company would visit and go on sales calls with me for a couple of days. In the evening he would take me out for dinner, and he always ordered a beer. One beer. One fucking beer. At our first meal he asked me what I wanted to drink, and I got an iced tea, sitting on the edge of my seat, my mind whirring with all of the potential stories and excuses I could trot out. I didn't have a specific lie selected -- I figured I'd go with my gut. He didn't ask, of course. Moreover, every single time he visited he asked me if I wanted a beer, never once questioning why I didn't drink. He probably figured I didn't like beer.
I felt like throttling him.
"What's the matter with you?" I wanted to shout. "Can't you see I don't drink?"
A lot of times at conferences and trade shows and the like I'd talk to people during the cocktail hour and eat my dinner. Then when the drinking vibe stage of the evening started, I'd excuse my self to go to the bathroom and just head right on up to bed. No one ever asked me where I was the night before. They didn't care. They didn't notice. A lot of them went up to bed, too. We were the ones who felt OK the next day, and were productive.
I worried from time to time whether my socializing or lack thereof was hurting my business prospects, as if a lot of orders were written at 2AM in a hotel bar. I may have hurt my prospects from time to time, who knows. I seem to have done OK in my business career. Not great, but I've gotten the bills paid.
Then I think about break dancing on the buffet table.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Prayer and Medication
One of the big challenges in my life has been to overcome my need to understand everything.
"How does The Program work to get me sober, exactly?" I asked, early on. It sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. I didn't see how it could possibly work.
"Come back tomorrow," someone said. "We'll tell you tomorrow."
Thus began my life-long journey of taking things on faith, repeating some simple action until the results become apparent. Usually I don't see the point of whatever pointless exercise I am being told to do until long after the point is clear.
Last night a couple of guys pointed out, none too gently, that there is a lot of advice to be found in our literature. There is, after all, a long section in the Big Book and an entire chapter in the 12 & 12 devoted to prayer and meditation. The second longest chapter, actually.
"Why don't you open up your books and do some reading," someone suggested, "instead of sitting around complaining about it."
Most of my progress has come about as a result of work and not thought. I get up every morning and have a Quiet Time. Early on I mostly prayed because The Committee was still extremely active. It was doing a lot of loud shrieking and bouncing wildly from topic to topic. Meditation was laughable at that point. Now I try to meditate more, mostly because when I pray I end up asking for things I want that aren't good for me and that I don't need, or suggesting that god help this or that person in a very specific way that probably isn't good for them.
Most of the time what I actually do is fall asleep or daydream. A lot of bosses have been killed during my less successful sessions. I have dazzled packed stadiums with my guitar work and spent my Super Lotto winnings on fancy sports cars and the things I've done to supermodels . . . well, they're some things, all right.
God (or as I like to call god: god-god) gives me a lot of credit for trying.
"How does The Program work to get me sober, exactly?" I asked, early on. It sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. I didn't see how it could possibly work.
"Come back tomorrow," someone said. "We'll tell you tomorrow."
Thus began my life-long journey of taking things on faith, repeating some simple action until the results become apparent. Usually I don't see the point of whatever pointless exercise I am being told to do until long after the point is clear.
Last night a couple of guys pointed out, none too gently, that there is a lot of advice to be found in our literature. There is, after all, a long section in the Big Book and an entire chapter in the 12 & 12 devoted to prayer and meditation. The second longest chapter, actually.
"Why don't you open up your books and do some reading," someone suggested, "instead of sitting around complaining about it."
Most of my progress has come about as a result of work and not thought. I get up every morning and have a Quiet Time. Early on I mostly prayed because The Committee was still extremely active. It was doing a lot of loud shrieking and bouncing wildly from topic to topic. Meditation was laughable at that point. Now I try to meditate more, mostly because when I pray I end up asking for things I want that aren't good for me and that I don't need, or suggesting that god help this or that person in a very specific way that probably isn't good for them.
Most of the time what I actually do is fall asleep or daydream. A lot of bosses have been killed during my less successful sessions. I have dazzled packed stadiums with my guitar work and spent my Super Lotto winnings on fancy sports cars and the things I've done to supermodels . . . well, they're some things, all right.
God (or as I like to call god: god-god) gives me a lot of credit for trying.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Traditions
Principle: A rule of conduct, especially of right conduct.
Two of my regular meetings have held a group conscience recently. Both times the proposal revolved around moving the meeting; once by choice, once by necessity. Both times I found the entire process unpleasant. I felt like I was in the middle of a contentious political campaign. It was uncomfortable for me. Personally, I didn't see what the big deal was in either case. I thought each group was considering two pretty good options and didn't have strong feelings one way or another for any of the choices.
This doesn't surprise me that much. We are as a people passionate about The Program. We have to be: it's a life and death matter. Stir into the batter the fact that there are a lot of big, strong personalities at most meetings, people with big opinions and definite ideas about how things should run. I've been to our local monthly Intergroup meeting a few times and saw the big personalities in action.
I live in a town that's obsessed with The Big Book and mostly dismissive of the 12 and 12. Don't get me wrong: I love the BB, too. It's our original text written by our founding members. It lays out the blueprint for how to stay sober and should be read regularly. I also have to remember that the oldest of the old-timers had just a few years of sobriety when they finished the text. Some of the stories in the first edition were written by people with less than six months of sobriety; people who wouldn't be allowed to chair a meeting in many places today. Clearly we needed to flesh out the process with some more detail.
The 12 and 12 was written after a lot of problems and heartaches and angry battles. It was the first place that The Traditions were described. I went to a 12 and 12 meeting for many years where we did a Tradition the last Friday of each month. Our attendance dropped by 2/3s that day, and half the people there bitched and moaned, having forgotten it was Tradition night. I don't think I could find a meeting today that studies the Traditions regularly, and there are 750 meetings a week in my town, not including the clubhouses.
From Tradition One: "The unity of A.A. is the most cherished quality our Society has. Our lives, the lives of all to come, depend squarely upon it. We stay whole, or A.A., dies." This Tradition explains that the group must survive or the individual will not. It explains how to live and work together as a group, emphasizing that common welfare is paramount.
From Tradition Twelve: "Subordinating personal aims to the common good is the essence of all Twelve Traditions. It reminds us that we are to place principles before personalities; that we are actually to practice a genuine humility."
You can look it up.
Two of my regular meetings have held a group conscience recently. Both times the proposal revolved around moving the meeting; once by choice, once by necessity. Both times I found the entire process unpleasant. I felt like I was in the middle of a contentious political campaign. It was uncomfortable for me. Personally, I didn't see what the big deal was in either case. I thought each group was considering two pretty good options and didn't have strong feelings one way or another for any of the choices.
This doesn't surprise me that much. We are as a people passionate about The Program. We have to be: it's a life and death matter. Stir into the batter the fact that there are a lot of big, strong personalities at most meetings, people with big opinions and definite ideas about how things should run. I've been to our local monthly Intergroup meeting a few times and saw the big personalities in action.
I live in a town that's obsessed with The Big Book and mostly dismissive of the 12 and 12. Don't get me wrong: I love the BB, too. It's our original text written by our founding members. It lays out the blueprint for how to stay sober and should be read regularly. I also have to remember that the oldest of the old-timers had just a few years of sobriety when they finished the text. Some of the stories in the first edition were written by people with less than six months of sobriety; people who wouldn't be allowed to chair a meeting in many places today. Clearly we needed to flesh out the process with some more detail.
The 12 and 12 was written after a lot of problems and heartaches and angry battles. It was the first place that The Traditions were described. I went to a 12 and 12 meeting for many years where we did a Tradition the last Friday of each month. Our attendance dropped by 2/3s that day, and half the people there bitched and moaned, having forgotten it was Tradition night. I don't think I could find a meeting today that studies the Traditions regularly, and there are 750 meetings a week in my town, not including the clubhouses.
From Tradition One: "The unity of A.A. is the most cherished quality our Society has. Our lives, the lives of all to come, depend squarely upon it. We stay whole, or A.A., dies." This Tradition explains that the group must survive or the individual will not. It explains how to live and work together as a group, emphasizing that common welfare is paramount.
From Tradition Twelve: "Subordinating personal aims to the common good is the essence of all Twelve Traditions. It reminds us that we are to place principles before personalities; that we are actually to practice a genuine humility."
You can look it up.
Monday, February 22, 2010
More SERIOUS Problems
I went to the grocery store yesterday. This is not a chore I find particularly objectionable, like ironing or bathing regularly or being pleasant to people I don't like. I didn't have to buy anything urgently. I wasn't late in arriving at the grocery store and didn't have anywhere I had to be when I was finished shopping. I wasn't out of milk and didn't need more milk RIGHT NOW! like if snow is in the forecast. Then I rush out and buy as much milk as my refrigerator can hold so that I have plenty of milk to pour down the sink when it sours. I don't even like milk. Milk is squeezed from cow udders.
Once I had collected all of the items that I thought I needed, many of which will spoil or rot or suffer from a bug infestation, I encountered the check out lanes. If you added up all of the accumulated frustration I have built up over the years in check out lanes and released it all at once I would have a fatal myocardial infarction. And I include traffic as a kind of sub category of waiting in check out lanes; basically I'm behind people who aren't as smart as me who are impeding my progress just to be mean to me, Horseface Steve.
I avoid the express lanes as a general rule, where some felon with 16 items is queuing up directly under the "15 Items or Less" sign. The self check out sounds like a good idea but I always get bogged down on some item I have to look up or that doesn't scan properly or have a working bar code. I don't know if I have mini bananas, organic bananas, fair trade bananas, or just regular bananas. They all look exactly the same to me. I have absolutely no idea how they get information embedded into a few black lines, either.
I usually end up choosing the line with the fewest people in it AND manned by the youngest cashier. No offense to old people like me, but I want to see those nimble young fingers flying when I'm trying to get out of the check out line. The pleasant young man that I choose to be my check out guy was too pleasant. He talked to me pleasantly instead of getting my stuff scanned and into a bag. He was also tasked with bagging my stuff which further slowed him down. He placed each item carefully in the bags. Very carefully.
Finally, I suggested that I would be happy to bag the groceries, assuming that this would free him up for some world class scanning. Normally, I don't do this because I'm watching the register like a hawk. When my attention is diverted I seem to get charged $8.99 a pound for organic, free-trade, mini bananas. This time my total focus on speed bagging blinded me to the fact that my $2 bag of onions rang up at around $10, which put me immediately into the Customer Service line, where no customer service was in effect, that I could see. They gave me my $10 back but kept the bag of onions because of some bar code defect.
"You can run back and get a bag with a bar code on it," the woman offered, unhelpfully. I successfully fought back the urge to tell her where she could place each and every onion in the bag.
I don't really have any problems is my main problem.
Once I had collected all of the items that I thought I needed, many of which will spoil or rot or suffer from a bug infestation, I encountered the check out lanes. If you added up all of the accumulated frustration I have built up over the years in check out lanes and released it all at once I would have a fatal myocardial infarction. And I include traffic as a kind of sub category of waiting in check out lanes; basically I'm behind people who aren't as smart as me who are impeding my progress just to be mean to me, Horseface Steve.
I avoid the express lanes as a general rule, where some felon with 16 items is queuing up directly under the "15 Items or Less" sign. The self check out sounds like a good idea but I always get bogged down on some item I have to look up or that doesn't scan properly or have a working bar code. I don't know if I have mini bananas, organic bananas, fair trade bananas, or just regular bananas. They all look exactly the same to me. I have absolutely no idea how they get information embedded into a few black lines, either.
I usually end up choosing the line with the fewest people in it AND manned by the youngest cashier. No offense to old people like me, but I want to see those nimble young fingers flying when I'm trying to get out of the check out line. The pleasant young man that I choose to be my check out guy was too pleasant. He talked to me pleasantly instead of getting my stuff scanned and into a bag. He was also tasked with bagging my stuff which further slowed him down. He placed each item carefully in the bags. Very carefully.
Finally, I suggested that I would be happy to bag the groceries, assuming that this would free him up for some world class scanning. Normally, I don't do this because I'm watching the register like a hawk. When my attention is diverted I seem to get charged $8.99 a pound for organic, free-trade, mini bananas. This time my total focus on speed bagging blinded me to the fact that my $2 bag of onions rang up at around $10, which put me immediately into the Customer Service line, where no customer service was in effect, that I could see. They gave me my $10 back but kept the bag of onions because of some bar code defect.
"You can run back and get a bag with a bar code on it," the woman offered, unhelpfully. I successfully fought back the urge to tell her where she could place each and every onion in the bag.
I don't really have any problems is my main problem.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sunny Side Up
Optimism: The tendency to take the most hopeful view of matters or to expect the best outcome in any circumstance; practice of looking on the bright side of things; opposed to pessimism.
One of the things that drew me into The Fellowship and kept me coming back until things got better was the overwhelming sense I got from everyone that things were going to get better. There's very little bitching and moaning in a good meeting unless it's tongue in cheek. And it's not like we pretend that bad shit doesn't happen; we talk about our problems all of the time. It's just that we try to look through the bad to the good that we're sure is coming; we try to keep the bad in perspective, to accept the fact that pain and suffering is inevitable, to balance the relatively small amount of bad with the embarrassingly large amount of good. (Note to self: did I use the word accept? D'oh!) (Note to note to self: did I follow that up with a reference to balance? What is going on here?) (Final note to self: perspective? Perspective!? WTF?)
We do a lot of trudging through the mud so that we can get to the vacation villa overlooking the ocean. I used to plop down in the mud and cry.
"What's the use?" I'd moan. "There's so much mud here."
Now I think: "Man, this mud is really getting me in shape. I'm really going to appreciate the shower in my vacation villa. At least it's not raining."
It can be awfully frustrating when we have to deal with people who are waiting for something bad to happen. I have to bite my tongue sometimes. People who don't get to experience the fantastic benefits of a program -- and it doesn't have to be The Program, it can be any spiritual program -- don't want to hear some sunny side-up horseface dufus tell them that it's not so bad, it's not going to get better.
I try to avoid those people. It's pretty much a waste of my time.
One of the things that drew me into The Fellowship and kept me coming back until things got better was the overwhelming sense I got from everyone that things were going to get better. There's very little bitching and moaning in a good meeting unless it's tongue in cheek. And it's not like we pretend that bad shit doesn't happen; we talk about our problems all of the time. It's just that we try to look through the bad to the good that we're sure is coming; we try to keep the bad in perspective, to accept the fact that pain and suffering is inevitable, to balance the relatively small amount of bad with the embarrassingly large amount of good. (Note to self: did I use the word accept? D'oh!) (Note to note to self: did I follow that up with a reference to balance? What is going on here?) (Final note to self: perspective? Perspective!? WTF?)
We do a lot of trudging through the mud so that we can get to the vacation villa overlooking the ocean. I used to plop down in the mud and cry.
"What's the use?" I'd moan. "There's so much mud here."
Now I think: "Man, this mud is really getting me in shape. I'm really going to appreciate the shower in my vacation villa. At least it's not raining."
It can be awfully frustrating when we have to deal with people who are waiting for something bad to happen. I have to bite my tongue sometimes. People who don't get to experience the fantastic benefits of a program -- and it doesn't have to be The Program, it can be any spiritual program -- don't want to hear some sunny side-up horseface dufus tell them that it's not so bad, it's not going to get better.
I try to avoid those people. It's pretty much a waste of my time.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I'm Faster Than Myself
A woman newly sober brought up the topic at my meeting last night. She is having trouble feeling comfortable in her own skin, basically. Imagine that: an alcoholic having trouble sitting still. She is impatient with everything. She's worried that she's not being productive; she wondered why it's taking so long for her life to improve. Another perpetual motion machine set for maximum production.
The recovery part of the topic revolved around trying to figure out the motive behind the motion. A lot of the time the problem is that we can't stand being alone with our thoughts. I can take a normal activity and warp it into an unrecognizable shape if I'm not careful. As an example, it's one thing to exercise: it's good for me, it relieves stress, and burns off nervous energy. It's another thing altogether to exercise compulsively. If I feel that I haven't gone longer, harder, faster when I work out, I'm running from me, and I do not have a good track record of running faster than myself. If I'm thinking about how to knock out the next task while I'm exercising, I'm moving because I'm afraid to sit still.
Sometimes when I'm walking around with the Earth People, I feel really out of place. They seem to get it. They don't seem to be trying to run out of their own skin. Then I go to a meeting and listen to my brothers and sisters talk and I feel right at home. I feel normal-ish.
There has to be a lot of drunks at that club.
The recovery part of the topic revolved around trying to figure out the motive behind the motion. A lot of the time the problem is that we can't stand being alone with our thoughts. I can take a normal activity and warp it into an unrecognizable shape if I'm not careful. As an example, it's one thing to exercise: it's good for me, it relieves stress, and burns off nervous energy. It's another thing altogether to exercise compulsively. If I feel that I haven't gone longer, harder, faster when I work out, I'm running from me, and I do not have a good track record of running faster than myself. If I'm thinking about how to knock out the next task while I'm exercising, I'm moving because I'm afraid to sit still.
Sometimes when I'm walking around with the Earth People, I feel really out of place. They seem to get it. They don't seem to be trying to run out of their own skin. Then I go to a meeting and listen to my brothers and sisters talk and I feel right at home. I feel normal-ish.
There has to be a lot of drunks at that club.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Latin Experience
Efficient: Producing the desired effect or result with a minimum of effort, expense, or waste; working well; competent.
One of the best things about traveling is that I get to see how other cultures do things. I'm very German: organized, efficient, a well-oiled machine tirelessly stamping out snow-blower parts. I'm a high speed train right on schedule. 9 o'clock means 9 o'clock. Wait your turn. Stand in line. Don't just throw your crack pipe or used syringe on the ground -- there's a garbage receptacle right there!
Then I go someplace where things don't work that smoothly. My problems start when I try to make them work my way. My inclination is not to go with the flow. My inclination is to build a highly engineered flow control system and MAKE THE FLOW GO WHERE I WANT IT TO GO. My vacation was someplace where things usually happened, sort of, somewhere in the vicinity of the place they were supposed to happen, at fairly random times.
Can I get my check, please? I've been done eating for 18 seconds.
My favorite incident revolved around an island ferry. Information in my room indicated that the ferry would return from Isla de Mujeres (Woman Island -- isn't that a great name?) at 2:30. We show up at the dock at 2:15, being good Germans, to find out that the next ferry was actually at 3:30. We were standing under a wooden sign that read: "Next Ferry: 2:00," despite the fact that time had come and done went. To complicate matters further there was a full list of ferry times hanging on the wall indicating a ferry would depart every 30 minutes. There were no exceptions for any days or times of the year listed. It started to rain. We didn't have raincoats.
At around 3:30 three ferries heading to three different locations show up, none bearing any markings of a final destination. People crowded forward into a large holding pen, forming lines at random. No one was speaking English. I tried to trot out my Spanish but probably asked for a transvestite lounge singer if the look on the attendant's face was any indication. We figured we had a one in three chance of ending up where we wanted to go.
One day we joined a bunch of people on a tour bus for a trip to a Mayan ruin. The pick up process had gone badly and some people were grumbling a bit. The nice lady who was the tour guide apologized, then tossed out a few bon mots:
"You know, there are millions of people who want to be on vacation and can't go. My mother told me that when you get angry that the only person you hurt is yourself, so why get angry?"
Man, does that sound like The Program. Maybe some people just get it.
One of the best things about traveling is that I get to see how other cultures do things. I'm very German: organized, efficient, a well-oiled machine tirelessly stamping out snow-blower parts. I'm a high speed train right on schedule. 9 o'clock means 9 o'clock. Wait your turn. Stand in line. Don't just throw your crack pipe or used syringe on the ground -- there's a garbage receptacle right there!
Then I go someplace where things don't work that smoothly. My problems start when I try to make them work my way. My inclination is not to go with the flow. My inclination is to build a highly engineered flow control system and MAKE THE FLOW GO WHERE I WANT IT TO GO. My vacation was someplace where things usually happened, sort of, somewhere in the vicinity of the place they were supposed to happen, at fairly random times.
Can I get my check, please? I've been done eating for 18 seconds.
My favorite incident revolved around an island ferry. Information in my room indicated that the ferry would return from Isla de Mujeres (Woman Island -- isn't that a great name?) at 2:30. We show up at the dock at 2:15, being good Germans, to find out that the next ferry was actually at 3:30. We were standing under a wooden sign that read: "Next Ferry: 2:00," despite the fact that time had come and done went. To complicate matters further there was a full list of ferry times hanging on the wall indicating a ferry would depart every 30 minutes. There were no exceptions for any days or times of the year listed. It started to rain. We didn't have raincoats.
At around 3:30 three ferries heading to three different locations show up, none bearing any markings of a final destination. People crowded forward into a large holding pen, forming lines at random. No one was speaking English. I tried to trot out my Spanish but probably asked for a transvestite lounge singer if the look on the attendant's face was any indication. We figured we had a one in three chance of ending up where we wanted to go.
One day we joined a bunch of people on a tour bus for a trip to a Mayan ruin. The pick up process had gone badly and some people were grumbling a bit. The nice lady who was the tour guide apologized, then tossed out a few bon mots:
"You know, there are millions of people who want to be on vacation and can't go. My mother told me that when you get angry that the only person you hurt is yourself, so why get angry?"
Man, does that sound like The Program. Maybe some people just get it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)