Reading policy language exhausts Romy

Anything but start this project . . .

Do you know I've discarded three full kitchen garbage bags of paper from my office this week? Yes, I can actually see some of the floor. This morning to procrastinate further to keep from starting my project I've started a pot roast in the crock pot, taken both dogs for a nice walk in the beautiful spring morning, gone to my future in-laws to sit with Ms. "Riveter" so her husband could go to the doctor, talked on the phone at length with one friend and much shorter, due to call waiting, to another, swept the floor, and done a few other things. Procrastination is a wonderful thing.

Once I begin working on a project in earnest, I tend to hyperfocus so there's no stopping me. I'm not clear why I'm procrastinating on this particular project except that there's a lot of reading I have to do (insurance policy language is fascinating--NOT) and it's hard for me to sit down and actually do it without jumping up every five minutes.

My girlfriend's husband, she has 21 years and he had eighteen, relapsed last year and was about nine months clean and about to take his chip. She called me a few nights ago and he was "off to the races," she said. They have four kids and they're about to adopt another one and this has really thrown another wrench in her plans.

When she called me yesterday she was making plans, "I can sell the house and get a smaller one," or "I can lower the asking price on my office building," which she recently rehabbed and put on the market, or "I don't know if I need to kick his butt to the curb." I simply pointed out to her that today, she doesn't need to do one thing.

He may make it back and he may not. Late-recovery relapses are very, very difficult, it seems to me. I haven't seen a lot of people make it back once they've had a lot of years in the rooms then they go back out, at least not from drugs.

When these things happen, though, we almost have to take it like we're back in our first year of recovery ourselves and not make major decisions. As my sponsor says, "Stay in Step Eleven and ask God to make it loud so you don't miss it among the veils of denial and confusion."

She walked through this last time with the help of her friends and she'll walk through it again, no matter what happens.

I can no longer procrastinate. I must read and read I must. So I will leave you with this thought. If you don't know what to do, don't do anything. In my case, I know what I must do. Ciao.

Stuck again in Dell Hell, and Microsoft, too

I spent three hours this morning on the phone with Dell; they couldn't solve my four-month long computer issues. Finally I called Microsoft and guess what? Because I bought the computer with the software installed, I have no Microsoft warranty but Dell can't troubleshoot the operating system problem.

So, I had to pay Microsoft $59 and take three more hours, and I'm not exaggerating, to fix the problem. It does appear fixed, however, so that is a good thing.

Doesn't it strike you as strange that Microsoft makes a program with an obvious bug in it and a documented workaround and yet they charge you to fix what they didn't build correctly in the first place?

Technology, the big timesaver. That's all I'm saying for the entire day.

Wait a little longer

When I was little, my mother had a special verse she would say to me when I wanted to do something all my older brothers were doing. "Wait a little longer 'til your little wings grow stronger, then you'll fly, fly away," she'd tell me.

My second year clean I decided to move from Phoenix back to Oakland to attend college. Oakland was where I had done the worst of my using. She and my Dad were clearly worried that if I went there, I wouldn't be able to stay clean, but they seemed reticent to talk to me about it.

Mom and I were sitting in armchairs one night chatting and I could sense her unease. "Mom," I finally asked, "Are you worried if I move back to Oakland I can't stay clean?"

"Yes," she finally admitted. "Remember what I used to say to you when you were little, "Wait a little longer . . . "

"'Til your little wings grow stronger," I finished for her.

"Right," she said solemnly.

"It's going to be okay, mom, I promise you." And it was. That was twenty years ago and I have kept that promise.

My parents taught me the meaning of unconditional love and for that lesson and many others they taught me, I am so very grateful. If I can be half the person that each of them was, I will be satisfied.

Another day for gratitude

I'm still recovering from the sinus infection from hell so I spent most of the past three days on the couch watching some of the weirdest movies HBO or SHO can shovel. Every time I lie down my head fills up like a water balloon, so I just lean back on the couch and watch movies and snooze. This evening I'm just starting to feel like maybe my head won't fall off, so there is hope, I think.

Recall that I wrote a few days ago about one of my sponslings relapsing. I had a phone call tonight from her husband and she's in county jail with a new possession charge. I remember once my mother telling me that the only time she slept well was when I was in jail and I thought she was crazy. However, I admit that once I received the call, I felt more at peace because at least now I know she's not ripping and running, she's safe.

I am going to try to call her P.O. tomorrow to advocate for a long-term treatment program instead of prison. She's such a sweet girl that it hurts my heart to see her go back to prison, but maybe that is her bottom. I know I can take that one extra step to see if I can help her, but after that, I am at peace with the outcome. If she goes back to prison, odds are I'll be here when she gets out.

There isn't much news other than that. My boyfriend hung Romy's door and just for fun before I locked her out of the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator. One last hurrah, I guess. At least she didn't get the pecan sandies.

Tomorrow I start working in earnest on my training project. I am grateful today for many things. I'm grateful for a beautiful spring day, a boyfriend who takes care of me like I'm the Holy Grail, a fun Hungarian movie, a few pecan sandy cookies, for my blogger friends who give me electronic "atta-girl" even when I'm crazy, but most of all, for another day clean.

Until tomorrow, namaste.

Romy guards the fireplace

Romy the Andiron

Not much news today, kids. I have a raging sinus infection and am waiting for my doctor to call me back with antibiotics. So much for traveling.

I met yesterday with my new clients and I think it went okay. Thanks for all the "Yahoos" back from you all. Do you know I've been out of work over two years? I can't believe it. So good things are beginning again, just in time for spring.
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It's like that sometimes, isn't it? We go through winters of difficulty and all we can do is keep trudging with ice spikes and wait for spring.
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One of my sponslings relapsed and is on a tear. I started working with her when I got a letter from her through our area that she needed someone to help her once she got out of prison. I wrote to her and when she got out, almost the first thing she did is call me and we've been going strong ever since. But she took on too much too soon, wouldn't seek direction, and as a result surrendered her four kids back to foster care again and went on a binge.
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It's all too sad and familiar. I call it "The Call of the Wild." It spotlights the cunning, baffling and deadly disease in all its strength that she would choose drugs over her children, who have been in foster care for several years. I can't help her if she isn't willing to follow direction. It's that simple. I love her and will support her if I she calls, but there's little more I can do.
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I didn't get here a winner; it took me two solid years of being in and out to get clean. I know how hard it is. I know this, however, after 22 years of continous clean time. One must be willing to follow directions even if it seems counterintuitive and extremely painful. Oldtimers know how to stay clean because we've walked the path and encountered just about every obstacle there is to encounter.
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Taking positive action in the face of negative feelings keeps us clean. Following directions allows someone to guide us who can see the red flags we cannot or will not see.
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So until tomorrow, my friends, say a prayer for my sponsling and my sinuses. I love you all.

Yipee!

You have all hung in with me while I have job searched, ruminated, gotten mad, and finally said "I quit" looking for a job. A few days ago I got my first account. I'm developing a one-hour training module for a regional business. This is the Program's best paradox, that when we surrender, God steps in.

Emotional sobriety

My cousin's cat. This is how I feel on bad hair days!

Today's meeting was awesome. The topic was emotional sobriety and comments from many members, new and old, were right on target.

One thing my sponsor does when I start ranting, and sometimes it makes me mad, is to tell me to "Lose the drama." She doesn't cut me any slack. When I walked into this morning's meeting where I normally go on Mondays and Wednesdays, there was a sign on the infamous board that announced a group conscience next month to vote on splitting the meeting so that non-smokers could hold the noon meeting upstairs and the "real" members, the smokers, could have the main meeting room. I don't know, but it struck me as incredibly selfish. I know today that a simple majority is not necessarily a group conscience, especially on contentious matters like smoking.

I started in on one of my friends about the smoking issue because I won't be able to attend if I have to wade through smoke and she just wasn't buying into my angry drama. So when the meeting turned to emotional sobriety, I was right where I needed to be.

When we are in emotional trouble, the focus must be on me, not on what others have done to me. I believe that we all need to vent when things hit us, but if we don't quickly move into the solution, we are in grave danger of relapse. As one member said, "I keep retelling my side of the story and soon my "right" becomes my "wrong." Think for a moment about that mouthful.
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Even as a friend to people I have to remember if I continue to allow people to vent it can border on me "patty caking" them. There is always two sides to each story and when I judge based on the one side I'm hearing, I am usually shortsighted and unhelpful to the one telling the story. I can only usually feed the flames of their "righteous" anger and pain.
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The meeting may well go to a split smoking/non-smoking meeting. I know I don't have to worry about it because it's not here yet. I don't have to politic, send someone to speak for me because it's not my home group, start looking for another noon meeting, nothing. Nada, not one thing. All I have to do is stay emotionally sober. The rest will take care of itself.
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Until tomorrow, my friends, I am glad to be home and back with you.

Don't my cousin and I look alike?

Woohee! I am so tired; more tomorrow gang. That was one tiring vacation. Two nights of designated driving have left me exhausted. Until tomorrow, then. (That's me on the left.)

9th Step has consequences

Wherever I go, not only there I am but I read the local papers pretty thoroughly to get a flavor of the city. Yesterday in the Post & Courier, dubbed "the south's oldest daily newspaper," I saw an article that really gave me pause.

A 42 year-old man was just sentenced to ten years in prison with all but 18 months suspended for raping a coed in 1984. DNA caught up with him, you might assume, but you'd be wrong. William Beebe pleaded guilty to the 1984 rape as part of his AA 9th Step. He apparently wrote the victim a letter to "make amends."

Wow, I'm really taken aback by this one. Can you imagine how he could have weaseled out of this one? He and his sponsor could have decided an anonymous letter would have been sufficient, citing the 9th step proviso ". . . except when to do so would injure them or others." He is, he could well have rationalized, an "other," as is his family, if he has one.

I believe that victims have a right to face their attackers and this letter allowed the victim to locate him, although she apparently knew his name at the time of the rape. Her university, she said, was not helpful at the time of the assault and she did not press charges then.

I do recall people, in my early recovery, telling newcomers that we must be willing to face the consequences of our amends, even if it meant going to jail. Beebe, who is 13 years sober according to newspaper reports, will move to Florida once released from a Virginia prison.

Your thoughts?

I'm still in Charleston, but without a USB cord, which is not the worst thing I could be without, I guess. Until tomorrow, when I'll post some pics, have a great day. Oh, yes. Run any amends you owe by your sponsor first!

God has a sense of humor

So last night I'm waiting for my plane at the airport in Charlotte and I run across a bank of rocking chairs. Almost all of them are full as people rock away but I spy an empty one. I ask the women rocking if it was taken and she says "No." So down I sit and commence rocking.

Because we're both women, we start talking about our travel delays, mine self-imposed (paying a stupid tax) and hers a result of bad weather in Newark. Soon our talk gets around to the important stuff, family, kids, what we do for a living. I ask her what she does after she asks me what I do. It turns out she's a marriage and family counselor.

Isn't God funny? Just fifteen minutes before sitting down next to her I'm stewing about my relationship and wishing I could go to an AA meeting and out of all the rockers I sit down next to a therapist rocker. God always sends me Eskimos.

I didn't disclose much to her, after all, she's on vacation, but I felt better just meeting a nice spirit. I caught the 8:30 flight and my cousin and my aunt, who is 89, met me at the airport. We talked the entire 90 minute drive to my cousin's house. So the day was ended well, as any day I don't drink or use does.

Today we did some touring and cooking and mostly sat around and talked. The seafood here is awesome and fresh. Until tomorrow when I'll post some Charleston pics, have a great day.

Sitting in the airport

I'm sitting in the Charlotte, NC airport because I missed my connecting flight. I've been flying since I was a kid and this is the first flight I've ever missed. It was another ADD thing. My cell phone didn't roll ahead as my old US Cellular did when I landed in a new time zone, so here I sit, waiting now another three hours for the next flight to Myrtle Beach.

It's not been a great day; too much time alone, I think. It's a two-hour drive from my home to the airport then the flight here and I'm worn out. Wouldn't it be great if they had a 5 p.m. meeting in every major airport in America? I'd like that. I could really use a meeting. Or I could just page a friend of Bill W., I guess.

My significant other and I were talking last night and he basically said that he doesn't think I've changed in the year we've been together. I think I have and I know he has, but if he doesn't see any change in me, then maybe that's not good.

I always felt like if a relationship was "meant to be," there wouldn't be a lot of emphasis on changing the other person; that there would be more flow and less conflict. Am I dreaming?

I've started reading Steven Covey's The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I'm feeling pretty blue, though. Part of it is that my life's been up in the air for months, if not years, and I need to make some tough decisions about where I'm going to live to build my business. Naturally, that's hurting the relationship. I had told him a few weeks ago to "step up to the plate," but really, it's me that hasn't even donned the jersey. As they say, when you point a finger there's four pointing back at you.

Until tomorrow, I wish I had more motivational words to share, but some days are like this and you just keep trudging.

ADHD

Anyone who suffers from Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, and I mean suffers because having it really impacts one's life negatively, despite all the cute little jokes we say about ourselves to help shield us from the shame we feel, may get a kick out of today's entry. If you don't have it, you can read this and add that fact to your gratitude list.

I am trying to tie up loose ends before I leave tomorrow, which is to say 1) my office is a mess and 2) laundry needs doing before I can pack and 3) I have to deal with various computer hassles before I leave and 4) there's always people and 2dogs who need some time before I leave.

I went to church this morning determined to come home afterwards and organize the mess in my office. But first, I needed to send for Oz' papers to get a copy of his registration, which of course is in Arizona although I now am in Missouri. That makes sense, doesn't it? Recall that two-thirds of what I own has been away from wherever I am for about two years (except for six months where I unpacked everything only to pack it back up and put it back in storage.)

I've asked the woman I bought Oz from for his registration number at least five times and she keeps blowing me off. I'm not sure what that's all about except that's her problem, although she's making it mine. So I emailed the AKC about two weeks ago and they emailed me his registration number. Certain that I had written it down, I must have deleted their email (although I have emails on my computer dating back months that should be deleted) and despite searching my computer, all the hundreds of papers on my desk and everywhere I could have written his number down, alas, it is gone.

So I have to email the AKC again which of course will take another week before I can get it and order his papers. Not to mention I had his pedigree in my hand as I cleaned my office and now, although I've gone through every place I could have put it and every file I filed things in, is nowhere to be found. I feel like crying.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg. This is daily how my life shapes up. I can't find anything, I keep things I don't need, I throw away things I do need as I try in vain to get organized, well, I could go on for about two hours. I really just want to go crawl in a hole somewhere and forget everything, the dogs, the trip, packing, the whole enchilada.

Having ADD is like living in almost total chaos most, if not all, of the time. I have read books, gone to a therapist, tried medication which I couldn't tolerate, worked the steps on it, and alas, it's still here and it's still making my life unmanageable. We all know that old saying that "If nothing changes nothing changes," right? Well, nothing has changed since I've been a tiny kid and labeled a "troublemaker" by my wonderful Catholic teachers because I couldn't sit still.

There, I am done venting. I feel better now. Until the next time I can find my computer under a mountain of paperwork I probably will never need, take care.

Getting ready for Charleston

I made a big boo boo. I am not going to Charlotte, I'm going to Charleston on Monday. Good thing I'm not the pilot! So just ignore me; I was a state off or a few fries short of a Happy Meal.
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Not much news here today. It's raining again and slightly cold. I keep thinking "It's spring" but then get fooled.
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Tomorrow's the women's meeting which I always look forward to. I am scurrying to the post office to mail my taxes then on to have a photo taken for a head shot. Ain't life grand?
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There are no big revelations today for me, just another day doin' the deal. Until tomorrow, hope you keep doin' the deal, too.

Spring is definitely here

Life is picking up. This week I've had three calls with at least one promise of work. I'm waiting for the confidentiality agreement right now before we proceed with one company and I'm waiting to hear back from the other two on the status of potential work.
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It's funny, but just when I said "I quit!" to the job search, things started to happen in my own business. Surrender to win; perhaps I'd forgotten that?
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The sun is shining and I'm going to make the most of today. Until tomorrow!

My beautiful friend Barbara

is waiting for a liver transplant. She's just gotten on the list in Phoenix and is having good days and bad days. Please keep her in your prayers and drop by her blog at www.thefirstchakra.blogspot.com to wish her well. She's a dog lover and an awesome artist and jewelry maker. Tell her 2 dogs sent you!

Romy waits for spring

It feels like spring here today; the bulbs, the daffodils, the crocus, the delphinium, are beginning to poke their snouts above ground. It signals hope to me; we've survived another winter.
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Sometimes, that's what recovery is like. We go through periods of great happiness then times of great difficulties: sorrow, regrets, losses and bad decisions. I always know today, although I didn't in those first few years, that things come to pass, they never come to stay. Just like winter, when I'm feeling defeated or depressed, spring is usually right around the corner if I can just hang on.
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Until tomorrow, I hope that you have hope. It's really about the most important thing we can have, isn't it?
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Romy gives Oz a few refrigerator-raiding tips

"See that bungie cord? I spit in its pate! If you just squeeze between the wall and the side of the refrigerator, put your shoulder into it and PUSH! voila! the bungie cord loosens and it's gravy! Sometimes literally! Cheez it, it's Mom!"

A blogger's convention redux

It's only months until NA World Convention in San Antonio. Who's on board? Let's start asking all the NA recovery blogs and see if we can't get a few of us there. Any ideas?

WooHoo!

Spring break is upon us and my wonderful cousin has sent me a round-trip ticket to visit her in South Carolina! I'm flying into Myrtle Beach and then on to Charlotte (I think). My aunt, who will soon be 90, is there, my dad's sister, so we'll have a blast. My cousin said I "needed a vacation!" Boy, is she ever right. I'll probably hit a meeting or two while I'm there. Any recommendations?
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Meanwhile, I'm heading up to northern Missouri today with a friend for a noon meeting. She just took a job at the Department of Corrections as a guard (yikes!) so she can't get to many night meetings. Road trip, I love them.

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I must walk 2 dogs, so until later or tomorrow, take it easy.

You can stick your hand through fear

Fear is an illusion. That's easy to say and pretty easy to understand intellectually. How, though, do we get this realization from our head to our gut?

We believe our fears come from outside us. Perhaps we have a fear of public speaking. Are we afraid of the audience? We may think so, but the real fear is that we'll appear foolish. Or maybe we're afraid of getting close to another human being. Is this about his or her emotional unavailability? No, it's about our own inability to get close to another human being so our fear is really about ourselves, that we, through our own defects, will lose the other person.

As one Buddhist practitioner put it, fear is "The belief that you are going to lose power and control. It is about believing that you are going to lose something dear to you. It is about you and your projections of what you believe is going to happen. A key word is 'believe'. A second key word is 'going'."

If we stay in today and especially in this moment, fear is less likely. Most of the time when I feel fear, I'm living in tomorrow. "What if I don't have enough to pay my bills at the end of the month? What if my dog dies? What if my boyfriend leaves me? What if I get sick again?" This is the constant parade of thoughts that go through my mind if I'm unaware of my "squirrel cage," as my sponsor calls it, in my brain.

Prayer and meditation can calm this cage. So can calling people we love for a "reality check." This is a simple technique that can help. One of my friends found herself worrying or projecting into the future. When she would realize she was doing this, she said to herself, "Oops, worrying!" This allowed her to recenter her thoughts on whatever it was she was supposed to be doing, which was definitely not worrying.

Fear is an illusion we create throughout our lives. In recovery, fear no longer serves us. If we look at our fears squarely, they are transparent. We can stick our hands right through them.

Until tomorrow, I'm taking a day off from worrying.