Sunday, August 03, 2008


Things are a bit rocky around here, but only in my head. As my sponsor tells me, make a gratitude list, so here goes.
  • My wonderful two dogs, who love me unconditionally (even though I broke the remote control last night throwing it at Oz after he bit my finger accidentally).
  • My friends, who are few and far between these days.
  • My job.
  • My business.
  • My sponslings, who keep me somewhat out of myself.
However, it is rough right now. I am financially paying the price for my Missouri move. It will take me, if I stay on budget, at last 18 months just to dig myself out of the financial mess I find myself in, again. I am truly sick and tired of the way I handle or don't handle money. I believe I have hit my bottom. So last night, once again, I went back to my budget and I am determined to live within my means, or below my means where possible. It is the hardest thing I have struggled with in my recovery and I'm tired of struggling.

My sponsor is going through a very rough time and as a result, isn't going to any meetings, or very few. Her husband is actively using and she is uptight, abrasive and defensive. Her sponsor spoke last night at a meeting and was phenomenal, but she won't avail herself of her sponsor's assistance.

I'm considering my options re sponsorship. It is ironic because I went through a period before my transplant where I only went to meetings at one location and my favorite sponsling (yes, we do have favorites!) fired me because she "needed to see me at meetings." I totally understand now what she was saying. Although it hurt like heck at the time, she later became my sponsling again when I started showing up at meetings after the transplant.

The other thing is that I've totally stopped doing service other than sponsoring. There is a tremendous attitude in meetings, spoken and otherwise, that if you aren't in general service, you aren't giving back to NA. As a result, I'm feeling a bit alienated. So last night I volunteered for the New Year's Eve planning committee. This is a small commitment and with my busy schedule working full time and trying to run my business, is about all I can do.

Tomorrow morning I have to go to a funeral of a dear family friend who died suddenly at 57. Now that may not seem young to you, but to me, it does. I learned most of the cuss words in my extensive repertoire watching Sam and my brother try to fix my brother's 1963 Chevy in my parent's driveway. Sam helped me move my mother to Missouri a few years ago when she was too ill to remain alone, a trip I can make in two days and took us four. It was a caravan of four women, three dogs and him.

He normally called me once a week. "What are you doing?" I'd ask.

"A whole lot of nothing," he'd respond.

He was a highly decorated Vietnam Vet. He was a door gunner on a Huey, shot down four times, had several purple hearts, a Medal of Honor and other military awards. The last time he was shot down, he was the sole survivor. Yet he never talked to me about his war experiences.

He came back from Vietnam strung out on heroin and he came to me to score. I guess my brother had told him what a mess I was. We ran around for awhile, then he somehow cleaned up. He wasn't one of us. He got married, had three kids, and went on to live a normal life. He was one of those people whom I took for granted in my life. He had a quiet, keen sense of humor and was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. He played crosswords continuously and could help me solve about anything I couldn't figure out in the ones I did. I will miss him.

Funerals are a bummer, and I know his tomorrow will be difficult. Both his parents are alive still, and it is always a tragedy when parents bury their children. But I also find that once I attend and if I can cry, then I'm better equipped to put closure to the passing. I will miss Sam. He was like a brother to me.

On to my brothers. One is back in the homeless shelter, another, here for Sam's funeral, got drunk and passed out on my lawn last night. I drove in from a meeting and the meeting after the meeting at a Chinese restaurant to find him sprawled in the grass next to my truck. I am so tired of this damn disease.

This is why I am writing. I am hurting. I am hurting from the tragedies I watch in my family. I am hurting because I can't help them. I am hurting because I lost my friend Sam, who knew my history and could always cheer me up. I am hurting because I have made more missteps in my recovery. I am hurting because this is life on life's terms.

So until I blog again, thank you for being there for me.

6 comments:

msb said...

I love You call me.

Syd said...

I am sorry for all the bad things and hope that this time of trouble will go away. When I get really down, I find that the dogs cheer me up. They are there for me and really love unconditionally. Hang in there. This too shall pass.

Princess Powerless said...

Hiya TwoDogs:
I'm so sorry to hear about your friend Sam; what a beautiful tribute you made to his memory with that little blog post. I now have a picture in my head of Sam.

It's a family disease and my uncle (my mother's only sibling) died from it. Mom says she might not be sober now if 1) she hadn't gotten in the door of AA before he died and 2) if he hadn't died... Life on life's terms allright.

Life on life's terms really does suck sometimes. Please know that you have a friend in Minnesota who shed a tear with you today.

Love, PP

Shadow said...

i'm sorry to hear about all the hard things happening right now. wishing you love and strength!

~ Matilda ~ said...

Wow..that's a lot of life in one post..no wonder you feel the way you do.I hope it helps to share and know others understand.
Thanks for sharing..

An Irish Friend of Bill said...

hey, you are OK.
the rules are, there are no rules. just do what works for you. sponsorship is plenty to be getting on with. and yeah we ALL f*ck up. so its no big deal getting it wrong.
nothing happens by accident. we've just got different destines to follow. we all have a different path. thats all.
this too shall pass.