10 Months and Counting...

I rang in 10 luscious months of sobriety this Friday, surrounded by friends, loved ones and a parking lot full of fellow alcoholics at the Western Club. I received my chip and was able to share (briefly) on how I was doing it. I have a lot of support from some pretty amazing people in my life AND I'm reaching out and passing this gift on to the next person who is struggling to stay sober. Those are the ways that I'm doing it.

It boggles my mind to think about the fact that, the very next morning, I woke up WAY too damn early and drove BACK out to Firstep to pick up two of the newer guys and take them to one of the Saturday morning men's meetings. Me. I actually chose to wake up early on a SATURDAY and drive out into the wilderness (ok, not the wilderness... it's like SW 104th street and W. Stanley Draper Drive, but still...) to pick up two guys and drive 'em back out to the clubhouse I was JUST at the night before. This program makes you do silly things, I'm telling you.

So, I'm sitting there with two of the guys from Firstep, with the intention of getting them connected with other men in the program who could potentially be permanent sponsors. It doesn't take me long to realize that the meeting I had MEANT to bring them to was the 8:00 AM, but because I do have a lazy streak, I decided that I was going to bring them to the 9:15 meeting instead... well, I guess there is really no such thing as the WRONG meeting. I guess you can say that the meeting you go to is the meeting you were meant to attend. I told them we'd try the 8:00 meeting next weekend. (WHAT?! Waking up early two Saturdays in a ROW?! Are you mental??) Anyways... the meeting was really good, I got a lot out of it and so did the guys. One of the two actually picked up his 60 day chip. Man oh man, remembering where I was at 60 days...

It was odd, though, my attention kept getting drawn back to this one chair two rows in front of us. It was simple, brown and metal with a small vinyl cushion. You know how the cushion will take the shape of someone's ass after they have been sitting there a while? That was this seat. Yeah, a meeting had just ended about 15 minutes or more prior to me noticing the chair, but all of the other empty cushions in the room had already returned to a "normal" shape. It was as if someone was still sitting there. My mind wandered and I got cheesy for a moment and thought something along the lines of "ooh! There's a ghost sitting there..." But it flipped a switch. Maybe that was the case? The Western Club has been around for a long, long time. People have had loooooooong bouts of sobriety in that clubhouse and have passed away. So many people find AA clubhouses like the Western Club to be a place of peace and respite. Who's to say that a person's spirit couldn't find rest in a place like that as well? Just an odd thought.

While I have reached the milestone (to me) of 10 months, and have accepted the honesty that I never (truly) got much beyond MAYBE a month of honest sobriety before relapsing, I've seen many men at the Western Club and other clubhouses with 30+ years of sobriety with regular attendance of AA meetings. It's a thought-provoking realization to know that this is just the beginning. In the end, 10 months will be a little blip on the radar of my sobriety. (OOOOOH that was deep. Go me.) But, as for now, I'm pretty stoked that I just managed to not go out there and drink today. I'm proud of myself. Yep. You read that right. I'm proud. Of myself. Me.

Friday also marked the seven-year "friend-a-versary" for Nick and me. Yeah, he's been in my life for 20ish years at this point, but we became Facebook friends in 2011. So I posted this slightly over-the-top and sappy post about what Nick means to me... and it was all 100% honest. Then, by the end of this weekend Nick wound up in the hospital. Early reports involved a blood clot in his spleen and a rush to the ER and it was all very shocking and discombobulating. I teared up on the way home to shower and pick Mom up to go up to the hospital. He's spending the night at St. Anthony, but he's going to be ok. They're just observing. I brought Mom home and let her get some rest too. We're getting closer to 11 or so and I have work in the morning. 

Try...

Yoda doesn't know what he's talking about...

Well, I'll be damned if "those people" out there weren't telling me the truth. It truly does work if you work it. I've been sober for a couple of days past nine months. Life is... full. I'd say you could even describe it as "busy." But I wouldn't change it for the world.

At FNA last night, I was asked to read "How It Works." Even though I'm quite familiar with this section of the Big Book, I gained two new things from reading it in front of the ridiculously large crowd: One was a newfound respect for people who get up in front of that crowd and speak from their hearts (not a laminated sheet of paper) and share some of the most private details of their stories in hopes of reaching out to another alcoholic or addict. The other was a tap on the shoulder from God, a nudge in the right direction or just a general inspiration on what to write about for my next blog entry.

Even though I have stood up in front of that crowd before, I was surprisingly nervous about reading last night. Plus, nobody told me that the sheet is SUPER glossy and kind of difficult to read from. But I did my best and plowed through it. If I could do it over, the only thing I would do differently is maybe look up and make more eye-contact with the crowd. Oh well. Shoulda, coulda, woulda...

I've probably read the 12th step, both to myself and out loud, probably a gajillion times. But for some reason this one word stuck out to me while I read it out loud in front of a room full of alcoholics. "Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles in all our affairs."

It just requires us to TRY. It's not saying that we do it better than the last person who did the twelfth step. It doesn't say we have to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous poster-child. Try. Over the last nine months, I've been truly given a gift and all that I'm supposed to do is TRY and do my best to carry that message out to another alcoholic or addict. That reminder lifts a HUGE weight off of my shoulder and makes me feel so much better about myself and what I'm doing about my program.

I have never, in seven plus years, made it this far. I'm in foreign territory. I have NO clue what I'm doing. I can, especially when it comes to sponsoring, allow myself to be COMPLETELY consumed my self-doubt and being self-critical. When I do that, I'm getting distracted from what I should really be thinking about and doing. I just need to relax and keep trying to do the next right thing. I need to give myself some wiggle room and realize that I hopefully will be a different person a year or more from now. I will definitely be a different sponsee as time goes on and I will hopefully learn new things and become a different sponsor as time goes on as well. Today, I'm going to do what I need to do and try to carry this message to alcoholics as well as practice the principles of this program in everything I do...

Compliance vs. Surrender...

"Compliance" is defined as "a tendency to yield readily to others, especially in a weak and subservient way." To me, compliance is cold and sterile. Compliance is discussed when it comes to policies, procedures and laws. Kind of heartless. Job sites are expected to be in compliance with safety standards. When you get behind the wheel of a car, you are expected to be in compliance with proper insurance and licensing to show that you are allowed to drive that vehicle.

"Surrender" is defined as "to yield something to the possession or power of another; deliver up possession on demand or under duress." It sounds pretty similar to "compliance," right? Well, just to make sure, I looked up the meaning of duress and it means "compulsion by threat or force." So, someone surrenders after they really have no choice. The Japanese surrendered in World War II after the US bombed two of their cities with nuclear bombs, killing potentially hundreds of thousands of civilians. They realized that they could make the decision... surrender now or be bombed back into the stone age. To me, surrender has a much more emotional feeling. Like the picture above shows, people usually only surrender when they've been beaten down and have no other choice. "Please, for the love of God, MAKE IT STOP!"

When it comes to my alcoholism, I can either be in compliance with doing the little tasks, squeaking by with the absolute minimum on what it takes to keep me sober or I can completely surrender myself to the fact that I am completely powerless over alcohol and my life is totally unmanageable on my own. For the past seven years, I have to be honest and admit that I've lived my life in that compliance category. That is definitely what has caused me to fail, over and over again. I haven't put any HEART or feeling into my sobriety. I've just tried to squeak by with that absolute minimum. I'd be giving as little fuel as possible, but would still scratch my head in confusion when the fire would die out. "Wait. How in the world did I wind up in this situation... again?"

This time around, I know that I had to throw all of myself into this program. That meant body AND soul. I had to make myself physically, mentally and spiritually available. It meant taking me WAY outside of my comfort zone and jumping into something completely new and foreign. Nearly six months later and this new way of thinking has proven to be pretty successful. Not only am I physically sober, I consider myself spiritually sober as well. I am in a great space in mind and body. I'm FIVE DAYS AWAY from celebrating six months of sustained sobriety. I've continuously surprised myself with what I've been able to do for the last few months. I'm proud of myself. Yes, you heard that right. Me. I'm proud of myself. Sheesh. Who knew?

But, I know that it's not over. If anything, it's actually just starting. In 20 short days, I'll be leaving the safety behind the gates of FIRSTEP and that world is out there waiting for me. Byron's is waiting. But so are the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm not going to rest on my laurels and say "I've got this" like I've said in the past. I know that I have to make that right choice and keep myself out there. I'm actually EXCITED about what opportunities and LIFE waits for me on May 30th...

I CAN DO THIS!

Freedom From Bondage...

Since coming to FIRSTEP and working with my sponsor, I've buzzed through steps one through three pretty easily. Before tackling the ominous step number four, we hit the brakes and Shannon and I agreed that we should approach the task differently this time. I know that I've done this step at LEAST twice before, but I don't want this to be like other times. I really feel like I want to come at it head-on, with both hands and feet as well... I'd even borrow hands and feet from other people if I thought that it would make a difference!

When you read the main literature for Alcoholics Anonymous (the BIG BOOK), "they" always say that you'll start to identify with passages, feel that similarity and even swear that some of these passages had even been written for you. Over the past seven years, and who knows how many umpteen times I've read that book, of course I've felt somewhat like that. I could read a certain portion or story and be like "hmm... yeah! I can definitely identify with that!" But that definitely changed the other day. Part of the reading Shannon wanted me to do before going on to actually WRITING out my fourth step was to read certain areas out of the Big Book and the 12 and 12. When reading the chapter called "Freedom From Bondage," I finally had one of those moments where I was like... "whoa. This is totally spot-on when it comes to describing me." It goes like this:

"Apparently, I'd grown physically at the customary rate of speed and I had acquired an average amount of intellectual training in the intervening years, but there had been no emotional maturity at all. I realize now that this phase of my development had been arrested by my obsession with self, and my egocentricity had reached such proportions that adjustment to anything outside my personal control was impossible for me. I was immersed in self-pity and resentment, and the only people who would support this attitude or who I felt understood me at all were the people I met in bars and the ones who drank as I did. It became more and more necessary to escape from myself, for my remorse and shame and humiliation when I was sober were almost unbearable. The only way existence was possible was through rationalizing every sober moment and drinking myself into complete oblivion as often as I could."

**MIND BLOWN**

I can honestly say that I haven't ever read another passage and be this wholly just... whoa. I know, that's not very eloquently spoken, but I'm not sure how to make it much more clear. It explains the lack of emotional maturity, the self-pity and it explains the fact that it stemmed from this overwhelming shame and self-hatred...

"Apparently, I'd grown physically at the customary rate of speed and I had acquired an average amount of intellectual training in the intervening years, but there had been no emotional maturity at all." - I used to get SO pissed when Mom would make statements like this. She'd say something along the lines of how I haven't really matured much past my early 20's when alcohol took hold of my life. Once again, she was very right. I can look back at it now and see that the way I handled things was so skewed and that I was way too self-involved. I may have hated myself, but I had this ego to be constantly thinking of no one else other than me...

"I was immersed in self-pity and resentment, and the only people who would support this attitude or who I felt understood me at all were the people I met in bars and ones who drank as I did." - Oh so very, very true. It's so PAINFULLY true. The sad thing is, it didn't stop there. My behavior, combined with that self-pity and resentment, even pushed this very small group of people who I felt understood me as far away as possible. In my (hopefully) last days of drinking, it was all alone. I was either locked away in my apartment and blinds closed with an uncomfortably large cup full of vodka in front of me or I was around people and emotionally locked away in my lies and deception. Yeah, I may be around people, but please don't ask me what's in my cup or how I'm truly feeling inside.

"It became more and more necessary to escape myself, for my remorse and shame and humiliation when I was sober were almost unbearable. The only way existence was possible was through rationalizing every sober moment and drinking myself into complete oblivion as often as I could." - I liked to rationalize the drinking. It was because I was celebrating (insert seemingly proper good news to celebrate here) or because I had a horrible day (insert appropriate rough news about relationships, jobs, life in general here). It provided enough social lubricant to get me out there amidst the public or it calmed my nerves after rough days so I could relax and unwind at home. In all honestly, I was always just ashamed of who I was becoming and hated thinking about it. "Hey, I hate myself, so you probably hate me too... maybe if I drink, I'll become more likable."

See?! I told you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pick up the pieces of my mind that's been blown all over the place...

Frothy, Emotional Appeal...

The "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous states that when it comes to reaching out to the alcoholic and imploring them to seek out help, "Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices." If it is going to have any effect on us whatsoever, it needs to have some "depth and weight" to it. Before I faced mounting legal issues, dangerous health scares, mounting debt and a declining reputation at both work and school, THIS should've been a huge red flag to me that something was horribly wrong. Those of you who know me, know that I like to consider myself a compassionate and empathetic person. I'm a big softy and I'm DEFINITELY a big momma's boy. But as soon as alcohol came into play, I became cold and careless. I didn't care about myself, why would I care about you?

Dictionary.com defines frothy as "unsubstantial, trifling, shallow, empty." TOTALLY not what I thought it meant. I thought of something that's bubbling and boiling. So I thought of an emotional appeal that was a little more hot, intense. It caused me to have flashbacks of tearful pseudo-interventions, angry conversations and the downright fights that caused me (or someone else) to storm out of the house. All of those methods worked... at least, for a little while. I remember, on numerous occasions, feeling those deep and awful feelings of remorse and self-hatred. What I WASN'T feeling was that "digging in and standing my ground" feeling of "yes, I WILL quit drinking right now!" It was a more mediocre feeling of "yeah, I know I NEED to quit, but..."

Being raised solely by my Mom and being the youngest of three, I became super duper close to her at a young age. I was your somewhat stereotypical momma's boy. When I learned that the term "momma's boy" was actually considered a BAD thing, I kinda shrugged my shoulders and said "meh." For the most part, I took what she said SUPER seriously. She never lied to me (for the most part... I'll choose to look past the whole "telling me everything tastes like macaroni and cheese issue") and so I took everything she said as gospel. Her opinion totally mattered. I wasn't one of those kids who had to be spanked or punished severely into submission. All she had to do was look at me with those big eyes and say softly "John, I'm so disappointed in you right now..." and I would crumble like a house of cards.

Alcohol replaced all of that compassion and empathy. As much as it pains me to say this, it even replaced the respect and care I had for my Mom. Over the last seven years, I've had plenty of conversations with "angry Mom" after I've relapsed. Angry Mom never lasts for long, I know that she just needs to get it out of her system and, before long, she's just fine. I know that she's going to love me no matter what. What REALLY bothered me was those conversations with Mom as tears would well up in her eyes. She'd softly ask me "why?" I've had more of those conversations than I care to count. Here recently, I would talk with her about how we're feeling and what-not. She'd be having a rough day and say something along the lines of how one of the only things keeping her together was knowing I was sober. I'd hear this, knowing that I had a bottle stashed away somewhere or knowing that I had nowhere near the amount of sobriety that she thought I had. It crushed me to know that I was just one simple truth away from her bring her world down crumbling. I felt horrible. Those feelings of self-hatred would swell up inside me. The only way I could keep them from taking over was to dive back into that bottle and wipe away every single feeling I had.

I long to return to a place where I am compassionate and feel empathy for people. I will care deeply about emotional appeals. I can only get back there if I continue to work on this program of recovery. It will start by getting to a place where I'm no longer consumed by the feelings of self-loathing. In order to do that, I'll have to dive into the steps head-first. Hopefully, before long, I'll be working steps 4 and 5 with my sponsor, followed by identifying character defects in step 6. I'll pray to have those defects removed. Then I can go on to the important act of going and making amends with people. I know far too many people who I ignored their tearful emotional appeals, whether they were frothy or otherwise...