Chilly and windy in South Florida. I’m sleepy. My dog Junior (his real name!) got me up around 6AM and insisted we go for a walk. That would NEVER have happened when I was drinking. Go ahead and pee, I would have thought.
My sponsor is coming over later. We’re doing Step 1, powerless over alcohol. She gave me homework, some writing to do. How did alcohol make my life unmanageable? The funny thing is that I can barely manage my life sober. I mean, every day I need to eat well, go to the store, exercise, walk Junior like a million times, cook food, read, write, wash dishes. And go to meetings!
Sheila is having a rough time. We text, mostly how I can’t pick her up because she’s wait wait waiting for her counselors to do this, that or the other thing. This is the second day in a row that she’s had to turn down my help because she’s caught in the mire of recovery mandates. I don’t even have the vocabulary, insight or experience to understand what she’s going through. But I do know the despair of being a young mother and being totally out of control. And unmanageable life. Â
I was listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air earlier. She was interviewing a man who had been an EMT and has written a book about his experiences. She suggested that becoming a writer must be like losing his identity and having to start over. And I thought, yes, that’s what it’s like when you really stop drinking and embrace the 12 Steps. Because what I heard so many times in the rooms is actually true. You have to change everything about yourself.  I used to think, why would I do that? People seem to like me. I’m kind of cool, actually. Funny. Inspiring.  Now I have to add to this list, exhausted, depressed, fearful, disappointed, envious, angry.  That’s who I really was. I say was, not am, because I refuse to be that person.  If the cool goes out with the depressed and angry, so be it. As for people liking me, my sponsor had something to say about that.
I told her I started drinking after 12 years because my (now) husband wanted me to and I thought, “Well, I’ll try it. Why not? I can always quit again if it doesn’t work out.”  Jenny B said, “Why are you such a people pleaser?” Huh? I was expecting some sympathy. I wanted her to commiserate with me about what a dink my husband is. The worst part of all this is that he has no memory of suggesting I drink, that is to say, STRONGLY SUGGESTING I DRINK IN THE FORM OF PUTTING THE GLASS IN MY HAND OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL I FINALLY DRANK IT. And I have to let that go. If I focus on it, blame him, it will lead me right back to where I don’t want to go.
My first sponsor, Jenny A, used to say, “There’s nothing worse than an alcoholic who is right.” Aargh! Since I feel like I’ve been fighting for my life, that’s a tough one to embrace. What are you if not right? Wrong? I don’t have the answer for this yet. It’s like living with uncertainty which is the same – I just read this – as living with faith.
