#soberedup

Breaking news on my friend Sheila. I successfully picked her up at court. Hurray! It wasn’t easy. I had an appointment to get my hair done and it took three hours (blonde AND pink color). Finally, I made it over to the courthouse, although I had the wrong address at first. She was freezing in the January sun. A Florida native. She got in the car and called her husband who announced that she had to pick up the kids in about 15 minutes as he was 2 hours away. How was she supposed to manage that without a car and at the mercy of the legal system? She we raced over there- across lanes of traffic because she was so busy chattering I didn’t get the directions in a sane amount of time.  We got to her kids’ schools. Lovely, adorable, beautiful kids. Poster children for- whatever. 5 and 11. Not a visible scratch on them from the ordeal they had been living through. But I know better.

Sheila complained, complained, complained about her husband, how emotionally abusive he is, how unsupportive of her recovering and on and on and on. I might as well have been listening to myself. Although our circumstances are different, I saw myself in her so clearly! All the time I have been complaining about my husband, blaming him for my unhappiness. And it’s not as if all of this isn’t true. It’s just that- IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH RECOVERY! AND I DIDN’T KNOW! THROUGH 3 HUSBANDS, I DIDN’T KNOW!

I tried to help her as best I could. In AA, they tell us that if we put anything before our recovery, we will lose it. So that means going to any length to go to meetings, working the Steps, etc. And I do know it’s true. But I hate that expression. When someone is so new, so raw, those words sound harsh.  It has taken me DECADES to understand that what someone else does is none of my business. My spirituality does not depend on how someone else treats me. Yesterday, I learned that in a New York second.

I’m going to New York City (speaking of New York) tomorrow for four days. Seeing my beautiful daughter, I’ll call her Candace. I’ve renamed my four children for this book.  I love names! That might be why I’m a writer. I had litters of kittens, puppies and even rats TWICE! Naming them was a great joy. Although the rats were an accident. Another story.

I’ve renamed my kids and in case they ever read this, I want to tell them why. My oldest is now Zack. For you, Zack, it is the name I would have given you if your father had agreed. It is a family name and special to your heart in a way that no other name could be. The Zack we know is so proud of you and so am I.  Next is Blair for my older daughter. Blair, I chose this for you because it’s so open to interpretation. And it’s a little nod to the movie, “Blair Witch Project” and you are and always have been a creature of the earth, magical, whimsical and sacred. Oliver, that is the name I would have given Blair if she had been a boy. But I’m not just reusing it. Oliver is elegant and sophisticated like you. You may laugh about that but truly it’s the way I see you. A gentleman. And finally, to you, Candace.  Sweet and open and glamorous without any effort. Another name I might have given to Blair.

When I first sobered up at the age of 32, I had three children. Candace was the baby I had in sobriety. I wanted to have a pregnancy without the dreaded craving for alcohol.  Not a great reason to have a baby, but I don’t think reason has anything to do with it. Nothing happens in God’s world by accident. If I’m here for a reason, then everybody in the world must be.

Thank you, God, for giving me the chance to see them grow up.