Updates

I cannot believe it's been two months since I posted. I have been heading up north to get out of the heat, although this weekend I stayed in town and am roasting. I forget every winter how hot the summers here actually are.

My friend is awaiting a liver transplant and I have been trying to help him get out of the house whenever possible, so last night we went to the speaker meeting and dance and later with another friend went to eat. The speaker got clean with me about the same time and her best friend, who died of brain cancer, was a good friend of mine, as well, so we have a lot in common. Also, we shared a sponsor for many years, although we have both moved on to new sponsors.

She was a crystal meth addict and pointed out that when she came into the program, NA was mostly junkies, which included me. Today I find when I share my story that unless old timers are in the audience, I am not sure that people can relate much to my using. So I try, unless it's a speaker meeting, to focus on recovery and the desperation of my feelings when I got here.

I am sharing the Sunday morning meeting at a big camp out in Colorado later this summer. I have to laugh, since the Sunday speaker is generally the "spiritual" speaker. I think maybe they have the wrong person (?). As I have blogged before, I still struggle with anger so much that I find it hard to call myself a spiritual person. But I keep chugging away.

Last week I started therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder, something I probably should have done years ago. A few months ago someone came to my house in the middle of the night and started ringing the doorbell then kicking the door. I called the cops and a helicopter was here in about three minutes then the police in about ten, but in the interim, even with 2dogs going crazy and me in the hall with a handgun, I was terrified.

For several days I was in "reactive" mode and was so devastated I finally figured out perhaps it is time to deal with the wreckage of my using. One of the original pains of my early using has been coming around lately to haunt. It's the image of the man I loved from 15 until my mid twenties who was twenty years older than me and willing to put me on front street to run his drug dealer business. What kind of men do these kinds of things?

Of course, once I made the decision I talked to my sponsor and immediately began berating myself for "waiting 24 years to do this." She calmly pointed out that to do anything at all at anytime in regards this was "brave" and to not beat myself up. That is the value of sponsorship. Sponsors help us see what we cannot see, often right in front of our faces. While I would have told a sponsling of mine the same thing, I couldn't remember to tell myself what she told me. Thank God for sponsorship.

I have also started a blog that will cover the social justice aspect of prostitution and the unsung victims who are either dead or trying to leave the life. I have been putting some energy into that and I am please with my efforts to far; however, more remains to be done and it is time consuming.

I did one other brave thing, or perhaps it was done to me. I am not going to write many of the insurance columns I've been writing and instead will focus on writing and keeping my copyright. It may mean money is funny for awhile, but I am tired of that rat race and dealing with corporations that are too slimy to be believed.

It is pretty simple today to self publish and this is the route I think I am going to pursue.

Until I blog again, I hope you have a great day. Hopefully at some point I can go public with this blog again, but not now.

Last night I drove up to north with a friend to my sponsor's to her husband's 25th birthday. She is a pet lover, and as I was walking around in her house, this CAT came out of the laundry room. What do you think? I couldn't resist adding her to one of my favorite sites, www.icanhazcheezburger.com.

The party was fun and it was good to see many of my friends I haven't seen in months since I've been so busy with school. Ciao for now.

Funny events

I was looking at a yahoo profile, okay, I admit it, sometimes I cruise the yahoo personals, and saw an icebreaker question that someone put on his profile. He asked people to, "Describe the funniest thing that has ever happened to you." That is such a loaded question, because some of the funniest things that have ever happened to me include things that others would see as a tragedy. Isn't it wonderful that we can go into the rooms on any given day and share a story that, at the time was traumatic or even horrifyingly stupid, and look back on it with humor?

I really cannot pick one event that is the funniest event in my life. It may be the time I encouraged my at-the-time boyfriend to burgle a Photomat booth with a large rock. Here is my hit on it--if he was stupid enough to listen to me, of all people, he deserved the broken ribs he got when the rock he heaved bounced off the safety glass and hit him in the chest.

Or perhaps it is one of my favorite former blog entries about the time my friend Roy o.d.'ed in a Mexican bathroom and I dragged him out by his boots and loaded him into the car to drive him back to Phoenix; then, after almost dying, insisted before we got to Green Valley that I stop the car so he could use again. Now that, folks, is funny.

I was at lunch with three females coworkers and for some reason I was in the mood to share about my teen years. They don't know I'm in recovery, but I am pretty open that I don't drink but used to in my "younger, wilder" days. I shared about why I left home at 15, how I moved to this house in Berkeley typical in the early 70s with one lesbian, a married couple one of which was a self-described warlock, one college student, the lesbian's lover (they often got drunk and smacked each other around), and me, who watched it all with 15-year old wide eyed wonder.

Anyhoo, I wrote a letter to my mother at that point in my life and told her the house we shared had so many roaches, they'd furnished us each with a roach clip. Now my poor mother didn't know a roach clip from a hash pipe, but someone eventually told her. My coworkers had a good laugh and that was the end of our lunch.

There are times I feel I live a double life still: I can't really talk much about my past among the people I spent most of my time with at work and in various professional organizations I belong to, and in fact, am afraid of having to explain certain details. I spent time with my sponsor yesterday going over that very issue. There are a few things I still need to have closure on and am working on that today.

But the funniest event in my life? Maybe it was my birth, because except for the years of my addiction, I've been laughing the whole time.

Until I blog again, may you be surrounded by light and love. I know I am.

NYC

I am in NYC in midtown Manhattan sitting in a hotel room instead of trucking about looking up and down and all around. I just ran the list of local meetings, so will shower up and head out any moment.
Two puppies remain, two wonderful sables and the litter picks according to Pat, who is the mom's owner and has forgotten more about dogs than I'll ever know. One shipped to Missouri yesterday. She is the black and tan cutie.

On May 7th I should receive my masters, but I don't think I'm actually going back to do the graduation ceremony. Not sure why except money and I'm tired of traveling. I got on the flight yesterday from Phoenix to Denver. No sooner had they shut the doors when the pilot came on and said we had a one-hour delay before we even would know when we would fly. I had the beginnings of an almost immediate panic attack, wishing desperately I could take Ativan before a flight. Things worked out because he agreed to let us off the plane if we insisted, but a few minutes later they cleared us. I hate being so powerless and still have a good bit of claustrophobia from the transplant post-issues, I think.

Well, it is 1 p.m in New York and I am going to get dressed and get out of the motel room and go exploring. I'll let you know how the deposition goes. I hate lawyers. I love the food in NY.

I also went to see West Side Story, which was wonderful.

Take care.

Leonard Cohen concert

Barbara and I went to see Leonard Cohen on the kick-off of his tour a few nights ago. It was the most amazing concert I have ever been to. I've never heard such a quiet audience; they just wanted to hear every word he sang.

He did almost every song in his amazing repertoire that is better know. I can't think of anything I wanted to hear he didn't play, and he played for about three hours. Barb and I were in tears during a few songs; it was so amazing.

Well, one more week of grad school and I am done, done, done. Wish me luck. One presentation left to do.

I do miss being public, but oh well.

I'm too sexy for my paws!

Back from Missouri

I flew back to Missouri this week to take my comps for my masters. I am exhausted. I'll post more puppy pics tomorrow.

They're here!

Black and Tan Female

Mom, Noriz

Sable Male

Compassion

Oz's dad, Bastin, taking a bite. Isn't he awesome?

<.>

Well, the puppies are five weeks old but no pics yet. There was a scorpion invasion so they had to be moved up north for a few weeks. Pics will be posted Monday for sure. Check back. They are awesome pups and the pics will be wonderful, I know. Ms. Babawa is taking them, so look for them.

I have been having a lot of anger lately, not sure why exactly. It is something I have struggled with my entire life. As I mentioned before, I believed that once I got that lovely little girl's liver and faced death, this would somehow change how I perceived and reacted to the world. Well it did--for awhile!

I also know that what was a survival technique when I used -- anger -- becomes a glaring defect of character in recovery.

I have been struggling with a coworker who has some real issues, complete with a lot of drama and chaos, often directed at me. Yesterday I'd about had enough so I went to a noon meeting at the nearby homeless shelter. I walked in the door and on the chalkboard there they had these two words, with some pages to read: Anger / Compassion.

It didn't hit me immediately, but later in the day I realized that while it is relatively easy for me to be compassionate to the still-suffering addicts I come in contact with, and to a lesser extend family members, in the workplace I have clear expectations about how people will behave and time and time again, people don't behave as "Two Dogs Sees It."

So last night I hit another meeting on my way home and heard what I needed to, as I usually do. That is that removing my defects of character comes in God's time not mine. (You know "I want patience and I want it NOW!) All I can do is ask and be ready.

So what do I need to do when I'm trying to rid myself of these troubling defects? Exactly the opposite, and to me, today, compassion is the opposite of anger.

Last night I went to a business meeting and ran into an old family friend. Yesterday would have been my mother's 86th birthday. We talked a lot about my parents since he worked with them and knew them both very well. It reminded me that this person I am wrestling with, and yes, it is about egos on both our parts, did not have the benefit of the parents and upbringing and love that I had. She is not in a program that can give her the tools of life management that I've been so freely given.

I read one of Marianne Williamson's books, I think it was A Return to Love. In it she states that the person who is more spiritually advanced is the one who is responsible for the tone of the relationship. Hm, ponder that one awhile.

So it's back to square one and looking at me and my behaviors. In the end, that's really about all we can do, isn't it? Oh yes, and pray.

Liberation

I was at first bummed that I had to go private on my blog since I have to remain so anonymous and after a few years of this, I am close to being linked with my real identity. So until I can clean up the blog, I have to be private.

However, it is also liberating because now I can say whatever the fuck I want and do not have to worry about what anyone thinks.

Also, some of my previous followers do not show emails on their blogs, so if you know someone who wants to view, they need to post a traceable e-mail (to their blog or website) and I will invite them, too. This is a bummer, but I've been living a double life so long I'm not sure I would know how to do this differently. Soon, I can go save the world and not worry about my past. (Isn't that a promise somewhere?)

Got milk?

more funny pictures

FINE

We all know what that stands for, right? I shall say no more. Tomorrow I am calling my sponsor. I am working too hard and not thinking very clearly.

My friend said today early in recovery he heard someone say, "We have no hope for a better past." I guess that means we should live in today.

In Narcotics Anonymous, the only promise is freedom from active addiction. I think sometimes we sold ourselves short by not cadging AA's promises, but I was apparently outvoted in that matter. Oh yeah, I wasn't here to vote.

As for the promises in my life, the one that I still haven't achieved is, "We shall not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it."

I went to three meetings today. What does that say?

Until I blog again, stay clean. It is the softer, easier way.

Ever felt like this?

No, we were the drunk friends, I almost forgot.

No news

None today; just an intense bunch of emotions.

Chow time!

Sorry the picture is so poor. More good ones will arrive as Ms. Barbara is going over Friday to puppy sit!

Faith

A friend of mine lost her job the other day. She has many years in recovery, and she is now, as she says, having to practice what she preaches. She said she told her sponslings over the years, "Don't write the end of the story before you know the end of the story." She is now having to follow that advice.

Too often when things get tough, I believe the worst. I catastrophize and imagine the worst. It is tempting, when I get into drama about the situation (which I think is a trifle inevitable in the big events like job loss) to only see a terrible outcome. It is hard to look beyond the crisis.

Acceptance is a process; it doesn't always come overnight. But if I don't write the end of the story, then I can surrender and let God write the ending. Inevitably, it is better than anything I could have imagined.

In these tough economic times, we are seeing many members deeply impacted financially. It is important that I remain calm and grateful and if tough times hit, I let God write the ending.

Until I blog again, take care.

Oz a proud papa

Oz is the proud father of five beautiful puppies. The pups, four sables and one black and tan, are bred from a wonderful German import-lines female, Norice. Pics to follow! Stay tuned.

Food--the Final Frontier

Well, almost.

My God sees around corners

I was in a meeting a few nights ago when a newcomer, struggling with staying clean on life's terms, said, "I don't know what's coming, but my God sees around corners." Isn't that the truth? And isn't it amazing that we often hear what we need to hear out of the mouth of newcomers?

Many times I've been terrified in recovery, and I am not ashamed to admit it because I believe faith and fear can coexist for a brief period of time. Many times, I am afraid if I am struggling with the problem. If I can get some perspective, however, I can accept the situation as it stands and stop struggling, knowing that God is bigger and "sees around corners." Then, the fear is released.

I heard a speaker last night with an unusual pitch. She has 27 years clean and is working on her doctorate. She has overcome great odds, the child of an addict who basically raised herself, with all the subsequent damage. She spent a few minutes listing her assets, which I think is a tremendous thing. When I got here and did my first fourth step, I was hard-pressed to come up with any assets. Today, I know what my assets are because some of my defects of character have become assets most of the time, at least.

Where I was stubborn, I am now persistent or even tenacious.
Where I was angry, I now have healthy boundaries.
Where I was egotistical, I now believe I have a healthy self-esteem.
Where I was impatient, well, I can't lie, I still am quite often.
Where I was street-smart, I am now able to analyze.
Where I was full of contempt, I am now compassionate.
Where I was sarcastic, I am now funny.

I am writing this because it has been a hard week, for a few reasons. The other day while unpacking I ran across a diary from 1983, when I was in the very bottom of my addiction, spinning out of control. It was frightening and it did two things: It scared me, knowing I could go back to that if I forget where I came from, and it gave me great gratitude for having been able to stick with the program for almost a quarter of a century now.

If you spent Valentine's Day alone and no one said "I love you," I do. Where I was full of hatred, today, I am full of love. The Fellowship gave me that.

Now here's a no brainer

Excuse the pun, but duh. Ritalin addictive; who woulda' thunk it?

Sponsorship

I know, isn't this just too cute? Not much happening here. It is raining, which in Arizona is almost always good news. It is so dry that we welcome any rain. Where I live now most plants are desert dwelling and require very little water, but plants seem to thrive after a rain.

At work last week almost 20 percent of my coworkers were laid off. It was very tense and stressful to watch people, some who had worked there for almost 30 years, carry out their boxes. They received no severance, no notice, nothing but a cart to take their boxes to their car. It is frightening and although the division where I work is unscathed in this round, there is more to come.

I talked to one of the women who was cut after many years, and she brushed away my concern. "God is good," she said. "And bigger," I added. She believes God has something better in store for her and I know she is right. Everything that has happened to me in recovery that I classified as "bad" at the time has ultimately worked out for the better.

In my life, I have walked through many things clean, but never financial problems in the nation of this magnitude. It is hard not to be concerned when I watch the news and surf some of the financial sites I read as part of my work. It is scary, but I remind myself: "God is bigger."

Here is what I do when I feel bad, as I did Thursday night. I get off the couch or shut down the computer and go to a meeting. It has worked for me for 24 years and it keeps working.

I have been here a little over a year now and I am happy in the Southwest. Mild feelings of panic start sometimes over the economy and feeling tied down here because I do own a house that, in this market, would probably not sell quickly. But I know that God has a plan and for now, it is for me to be here, at home, in Arizona.

I only have to step onto my patio in this beautiful rain to know: God hasn't brought me this far to drop me on my head.

If you are struggling, struggle on. It is definitely worth the price.

Unpacking

I wish I had a digital camera, because unpacking is like opening Christmas presents. Many of my boxes I haven't opened since before my liver transplant, which was over three years ago. So I had forgotten how many beautiful tsotchkes and things I own. Just a few of the things I have unpacked today include:

• A beautiful blue jeweled vintage purse, which I will hang in my bedroom and I had completely forgotten that I had.
• A beautiful blue and creme chenille drape that will grace my bedroom window.
  
• Yards and yards of vintage material, too beautiful to describe and ripe for craft projects I hope to start once I settle in and slow down.
• Three boxes of shoes that I completely forgot I still owned, and which Romy will, no doubt, immediately claim as her new chew toys when I forget to latch the now latching bedroom door.

I give you this list to remind myself of a few things. First, that I spent myself into deep financial doo $20 at a time, in many respects. Today I think twice about spending money on anything that isn't necessary.

I also remember how clearly I saw my possessions as I sat in my recliner, dying, waiting for an improbable transplant that I completely had turned over to my God. As I viewed my beautiful paintings and Hull pottery and Frankoma dishes, I realized that you truly can't take it with you. They were just things and in the end, unimportant. Cliches are cliches because they are true<.><.>

Today I try to focus on appreciating what I do have, including the miracle of my life and recovery and transplant. I am listening to Paul Simon and I am deeply grateful.

At home in my new home

Two dogs and I have packed in and are officially moved. Both dogs got sick and promptly christened the new hardwoods with barf, but what can one say? A dog has to do what a dog has to do, right? My friends have helped tremendously in the move, including Ms. Barbara and a friend from work, who helped me move a lot of boxes so the movers didn't have to spend too long at the house. As I told one coworker, I feel like it's twelve pounds of crap in an eight-pound sack; however, little by little I am unpacking and getting settled.

Barbara helped with the computer today and I lost my backup Quicken file temporarily, with all of last year's tax records on them. Yikes! So I went to a meeting. That was where I needed to be and where I heard the message "surrender to win." That was what I needed to hear, today especially.

This week will be a busy week. Tomorrow I have to prepare for a class I start teaching on Wednesday and then much writing remains to be done. Tuesday is the inauguration. I am going to find a small TV somewhere to take to work to watch our new President sworn in. This is a momentous day in American history and I, for one, want to watch as much as I can. And pray a lot, because he is inheriting one heck of a mess.

Once I get settled I'll try to take some pics so you can see the new hole Oz dug in the yard today when the sprinklers came on. I thought he's lost his mind. My friend brought over sulpha for the dogs, so hopefully by tomorrow, they'll be back to normal, whatever that is for them.

Until I blog again, take care.

Chaos

Moving bites. Waaa.

In the midst of packing ...

I am surrounded by boxes and feeling a little overwhelmed, but a friend will arrive in an hour or so to help. I went to northern Arizona yesterday to check on my house. The weather has been cold there so I wanted to make sure the pipes didn't freeze. I also had an electrician in to put in two new wall heaters. If anyone tells you to buy a pellet stove, consider it very carefully. It may be cheap, but it's impossible to keep the heat on when you're not there for extended periods. You live and learn, usually the hard way, right? I do, anyhoo.

I met my electrician at a meeting I used to attend. Turned out he was an old junkie from Phoenix and we knew some people in common. Yesterday as we talked, we think we know more people, as well. He is an example of someone who is doing the deal--happily married, well-employed, raising three kids in a blended family with all its insanity. I am glad we are friends.

On the way home I went to a meeting and talked to my sponsor briefly and updated her on my life. I have a fourth step sitting somewhere (I can't find it at the moment) and we'll catch up next month when life is less hectic. It is amazing that today, despite what is going on in my life, I don't have to have any drama surrounding it. That is spiritual growth in its simplest form. Because believe me, there is a lot going on both personally and at work.

I am just checking in with my blogger buddies. Have a great day!

A new place to live

The moving boxes are out again, and 2dogs sit in the living room asking each other, "How far is it this time?" Relax, I tell them, it is only one mile. I am moving a mile from where we are now. The pics show you why. It is a great neighborhood that dead ends into desert preserve where Oz can hike and Romy can explore. (Her hiking days seem behind her now.)

These are some of the benefits of recovery. Today, people want me as a neighbor and I have good credit. I have been back in Arizona for a year and am comfortable in this neighborhood, so I am moving close by.

I am a little sad and overwhelmed today. I am trying to work through some of my own issues and have started the new year out by examining my own issues with food and how I manage my money. My friend in Hawaii sent me a beautiful journal and I am recording what I spend and what I eat. I have more peace in my life when these other areas are in balance, as well.

Tonight I will go to my home group at 5:30 then tomorrow a woman asked me to share at a meeting in the East Valley. Around birthday time, I seem to get a lot of invites to speak and that is great. However, I'm learning that maybe the issues I am still working through are my issues and not for sharing at the group level. I always say that NA is where I can tell my truth. So today I am pondering, baffled, a little confused, I guess, but I am always grateful for another day clean.<.>

Today I spoke at length with a woman I still sponsor in Missouri and love very much. She is going through some painful stuff and putting one foot in front of the other. In fact, she ended up, as she always does, by encouraging me.<.>

Well, I have boxes to pack, so 2dogs and I wish you a fine day and a happy New Year. I just wanted to share my good news. Please do me a favor and say a prayer that I sell my car, because I'm not getting many calls on it and that would help tremendously. Prayer is powerful!

Happy New Year

Thanks for helping me stay clean another year.

Here's to 2009, whatever it may hold.

Nothing to say but this seems to say it all

"America is now wholly given over to a damned mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public taste is occupied with their trash – and should be ashamed of myself if I did succeed.”

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

I found this on The Junky's Wife blog and it cracked me up. Count me among the damned mob of scribbling women.

Happy Holidays to You and Yours

When I was a child, my parents always put blue Christmas lights on the house. We were the only house that seemed to do that. I thought it was weird, but then I grew up in a weird household, I thought.

Last night I was at a late marathon meeting and this gal with two months was chosen by her home group to share the meeting. When I heard her childhood story, I simply could not believe it. It was like something out of the book The Glass Castle. I was sitting with my former roommate, a grape who moved out because the economy forced him to move back in, at 52, with his parents. We looked at each other in amazement. I'll tell you this--it made me so, so grateful for my upbringing.

I am so grateful that when I got here I had values handed down from my parents and all I had to do was to brush up on them with help from people in NA and a lot of in-depth conversations with my Higher Power. The meeting that shared the marathon meeting prides itself on being rowdy and disrespectful, with a lot of cross talk and slaughtering of the readings. I know this--it wouldn't play in most home groups. After hearing this women share, I had a better idea of why they behave that way and was able to be slightly less judging about the Romper Room atmosphere of the meeting.

Anyhoo, I am grateful for another Christmas clean. I am heading out to dinner with my brother and his wife and her brother, all that is left of our family clan in Arizona. This will be our first Christmas without any parents as my sister-in-law lost her Mom this summer. As my mother said, getting old is not for the faint of heart. I miss my parents all year, but at the holidays, especially so. I am so grateful for all they did for me and that they never lost faith that someday I would get my act together. I believe they prayed me into the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous.

Then I am heading up north to make sure my pipes don't freeze. I have the heat off and the house winterized, but one never knows so I'm going to spend a few days in the snow. The dogs can hardly wait.

Have a wonderful holiday and drive safely. The amateurs are loose.

Another day clean

I am heading out to my home group to celebrate my 24 years. It's a special occasion, as are all anniversaries. I grateful I got clean, grateful I stayed clean, but most of all today I am grateful that I still look forward to going to meetings.

I hit the 10 p.m. meeting last night, which was loaded with newcomers. If I could have given them one piece of advice, and I could give them several, it would be, "Meeting makers make it."

Early on, I stayed clean because a few people took an interest in crazy me and made sure I kept coming back. They listened to me when the service gurus (and these guys were doing service, too, only in a quiet way) were too busy or important to listen to my blathering.

Perhaps someday I can repay NA for what it has given me. To date, I haven't even made a dent in it.

I hope you have a great weekend and a wonderful holiday if I don't blog until then.

An unexpected visitor

Cindy, sister of puppy Cibola. Wait until she grows into those feet!

Romy inspects the newly planted trees, which the elks tore down within a few weeks.

Oz contemplates the puppy.

This beautiful puppy Cibola came up with her sister Cindy to visit me. This litter comes from fine Czech working lines and she is priced at $1500. This is one of 9 females from the same litter.

View from my porch

This week I am taking my cake for 24 years. I am very grateful to have stayed clean. I'll be posting more soon.

We're all Bozos on this bus . . .

I was in a great meeting this morning. A guy from the Greater Chicagoland area who moved here recently, when advising the newcomers to "keep it simple," said "Einstein can't; Bozo can." He's right, you know. This is a very simple program for very complicated, and often too intelligent for our own good, people.

When I was first getting clean, there was a guy in the meetings I looked up to very much. His name was Bob C. He had come from my background and seeing him in meetings made me believe just a little that if he could do it, so could I. Bob always had great things to say, and something he used to remind us of when the personalities got the best of us, especially at service meetings, was "We're all Bozos on this bus."

Just remembering that simple statement reminds me that I can get pretty bent out of shape about things that, in the grand scheme of things, mean nothing. So for today, I'm reminded that "We're all Bozos on this bus."

Welcome aboard.

You will laugh, you will laugh

Happy Thanksgiving. Now go visit I Can Has Cheezburger.

Self-loathing

I was in a meeting today and the topic of self-loathing came up, but not in such fancy terms. The guy who shared was digesting huge chunks of information about himself, much of it negative. As I listened to him, I wondered if he had a sponsor who was giving him direction, or he was trying to wrestle through these truths alone. As we work the steps, we often uncover these "chunks of truth" as I refer to them, which are downright negative.

I also had coffee after the meeting last night with a friend who is in his 17th year and to say his life was unmanageable would be an understatement. Another friend and I spent time listening to the insanity that he was parading through his life (thank God he's telling someone!) and we both asked him about sponsorship.

He moved here from the East Coast a few years ago and hasn't gotten a new sponsor. Now there's a surprise, we told him. Your life is unmanageable, you are consistently making bad decisions, and you wonder why you feel like this?

I just finished a wonderful book titled, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning. This book talks about the spiritual path we walk with the Twelve Steps. Mainly, the book maintains, we grow spiritually through listening to and sharing our experiences with other human who accept us, imperfections and all.

We find that we finally fit somewhere, those of us who stay in the rooms, at least. I am grateful that I have always loved meetings and gotten what I needed from them. I am so grateful to the people who loved me when I first vibrated into the rooms and encouraged me to stick around for the miracle.

I am glad that, despite my many failings, I rarely feel "loathsome tonight."

Until I blog again, I hope you have a wonderful week.

Happy Veteran's Day!

On this day, I want to thank all the Veterans who have served this wonderful country. This includes a special thanks to my three brothers, Vietnam era vets, and my father, who served in the South Pacific.

Thank you for your selfless service to this great nation. Today, even the squirrels seem to understand how important your service is and was to this nation. May God bless you and keep you safe from harm.

To anonymous, who is struggling in her alcoholism where there are no AA meetings and wrote to me a few days ago asking for some help. There are tons of resources for "loners" as they call them in AA. There are also on-line chat groups. So read this post, click on some links since you obviously have web access, and let's trust our blog readers to post some comments where you may also get help.

First, there are many on-line AA meetings. I can't personally vouch for them since I am in NA, but here are some links I found through a quick Google search.

http://www.aaonline.net/

http://www.aa-intergroup.org/

This is a great place to start! Here is the AA Big Book (AA's textbook, as it were), on line. http://www.aa.org/bbonline/

Any other resources out there?

Post-election party

I am so grateful. It's been a long time coming, but perhaps now, America can get back on the right track. Did you hear Obama's acceptance speech? It was beautiful.

Romy's big adventure

While I was in Mexico over taking a three-day weekend with some coworkers, my roommate baby sat the dogs. When we were driving back on Monday afternoon, I called him to get a dog status. "I have bad news," he said. "Romy got out."

"What do you mean 'got out'?" I asked him. Apparently he left the door ajar and she escaped. He said he spent the whole weekend looking for her posting signs, and went to the pound, but she was gone.

I hung up on him at that point before I lost it and my coworkers told me to take some deep breaths because, of course, I was imagining the worst. This is a dog who has never been around cars and I live in a very busy area of town.

A few minutes later, my phone rang (in Rocky Point I had no cell service). It was a woman who ran a German shepherd/Malinois rescue. Her neighbor had found Romy the night she escaped (Friday) and had taken Romy to her. They had been trying to call me without success. Romy was safe.

Needless to say, I was so grateful. As soon as I got to Phoenix I went to her house and picked up Ms. Romy, who was ecstatic to see me. They had 20 rescue dogs and Romy spent the weekend mostly on the bed and couch, they said. She got along fine with all the dogs.

So the long and short of it is my roommate never apologized, only complained about how it ruined his weekend to have to look for her. I have been over this door thing with him many times, so I'm going to ask him to move. It isn't worth it to me to lose a dog over his ignorance and self centeredness. It's only Grace that she wasn't killed, because she was found on a four-lane street at night.

I had a ton of fun in Mexico, but boy, can my coworkers drink like fish. I don't think I'll be going back down anytime soon. The two of us who didn't drink spent most of our time mediating stupid behavior.

So until I blog again, take care.

Emotional train wreck

Today in recovery, being even a little off balance feels like a train wreck. It's nothing I can put my finger on, but I am feeling a lot of dis-ease for the past few days. Part of it is my volunteer work with the gals at the halfway house who have been through such horrific events in their young lives. We are teaching a ten-week writing class and so much, of course, of what they write about is so very painful and stirs up so many feelings in me. One of the prominent feelings is gratitude--that despite how far down I went, my parents never gave up on me. So I do walk away with gratitude.

I'm finishing my second to the last class in my graduate program and probably walking away with a B, which is pretty much a first for me. That is pissing me off.

Oh yes, I did change sponsors. I spoke to my old sponsor yesterday and told her. I am so grateful for what she has given me over the years, but I'm feeling like I want a sponsor I can spend more time with as she is definitely not a "hang out" person. She made that clear in the beginning, and I never needed that. Today, I feel like I do. I have a tendency not to seek direction, so it is better for me if I have a sponsor I see frequently.

Lately I've feeling very alienated from everyone. I'm sure part of it is the frequent moving, but here is the perfect example. I went to our Dinosaur Dinner last night, which is a monthly event of many of the 20-plus people in this area. Almost all the women who would attend, I learned, had gone up to Payson with a woman who was my second sponsor's sponsor to have a birthday party for her 32nd. I saw her Tuesday night, talked to her at length, and she didn't invite me. Waah. I'm feeling like I have two left feet.

The whole NA clique thing can be painful; I'm sure it's the same in other fellowships, as well. After hosting a friend's 25th birthday party here and not inviting a few people because he didn't like them, and hurting their feelings in the process, I've decided that I will no longer host things that aren't pretty much open invitations. Even in early recovery, I wasn't part of the NA "in crowd" in Phoenix. We formed our own "in crowd," and that's what kept me clean.

There are other things going on too complex for blogging, but in short, I'm having a bit of a time. I know the answers. I'm sure, this too, shall pass.

Until I blog again, I hope you are doing well. Incidentally, Romy ate another two shoes this week. She always picks shoes from different pairs. What can I say? Is there somewhere I can donate one shoe?

Trudge, baby, trudge!

I went to a step meeting tonight focused on Step Six. The first time I went through the steps with my sponsor, my Fifth Step took about eight hours so my sponsor was probably too exhausted to tell me to go home immediately and take Step Six and Seven. Of course, with all our fancy step guides today, I don't know many people who sponsor that way anymore.

However, what happened is I got hung up on Steps Six and Seven for a long, long while. I made them much more complicated than they are. At the meeting there were a few opinions about how to take Step Six, and one gal said that she looked forward to a long, tortuous life with the help of Step Six. A guy sitting near me turned to his friend and said, "Trudge, baby, trudge!"

Isn't that how it goes? Many times we must just put one foot in front of the other, put down our heads and focus on each minute.

Another thing I heard at the meeting before the meeting (which is why I like to show up early) is a man state that the economy was causing him to live in fear. I can definitely relate. I feel very uncertain right now about the future, my future, our nation's future. I believe I can have some level of fear and faith at the same time.

There are only a few "must haves" in my life today: The Fellowship and an ability to buy my anti-rejection drugs. Other than that, I don't need much. I'd like, of course, to continue to pay my mortgage, but so what if I can't? I'd like to remain employed, but so what if I don't? I'd like to be able to eat regularly, but I could lose a few pounds and it wouldn't kill me.

Seriously, as I watch the economy continue to melt down, there is some level of fear. But I know that as long as I can get to meetings, despite what happens around me, I'll be okay.

I love the picture. If I believe in what I see happening around me, I get confused and fearful. As my sponsor used to say when I called her, "God is the answer; now what was the question?"

How Google has made me a better sponsor

I am finishing my master's degree this year in sociology, which basically means I know a lot about a lot of nothing. With this degree, I can probably teach at the community college level about, not much. This degree, in some ways, gives me broader insight into humans and how they react, than some, but I sure am terrible at algebra.

However, the title of this post is not about me, it is about how Google has made me a better sponsor. Recently one of the gals I've worked with for a number of years called me about a very personal issue she was having. After a quick Google search, I was able to verify what I suspected: That her complaint was quite common in her circumstances and that perhaps she needed to discuss the matter more openly with her husband. Thanks, Google, for making me a better sponsor. That is the law of unintended consequences. I don't think Google set out to help 12-Steppers, but there you have it.

Not much else is going on here in Hot Arizona where it is still over 100 freaking degrees. Hope you are all well. 2 dogs are sleeping after their hard weekend in northern Arizona. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Another peaceful weekend

in Northern Arizona. 2dogs enjoyed the cooler weather. I planted two more trees in the back yard, a flowering plum and another sycamore. The grasshoppers had made twigs out of a few plants, so I used a repellent and by Monday morning they were almost gone. Hopefully I can salvage what they ate.

Until I blog again, always wear protective clothing when trying to kill grasshoppers with chemicals. I must now sign off to scratch.

Scrabble and procrastination

Last night I was up north and my friends stayed the night, on their way to California on vacation. My friend is from the Czech Republic and is very emotional, to put it mildly. It all started with a simple game of Scrabble. Because I haven’t played in years and his girlfriend was very experienced, she and I decided we would just start playing and I would refresh myself on the rules as we went along, and we would teach him as we went. Boy, was that the wrong decision.

The lack of a dictionary was another major impediment. The first word he tried to spell was "eco.” We both said that was a prefix and he couldn’t use it. He argued quite loudly that it was most certainly not a prefix, after asking, “What is a prefix?” The second round went no smoother, and he took his tiles and dumped them, and quit. We made fun of him, and continued to play while teasing him.

While she and I played on, he continued to watch and read the rules and correct us loudly at about every other move. She beat me soundly, by twice as many points. I am a type A and if I can make a two-letter word and move the game forward, that is my strategy, which, of course, is a strategy only for a sound arse-kicking.

We bedded out finally about midnight and went to sleep, their two German shepherds asleep with them in the great room, mine locked in my bedroom with me, since Oz was being a bit snotty to their male, Bernarde. "This is my house and my toys and Romy is my pack member and you are an uninvited guest," he seemed to say as he guarded his bones and balls.

This morning the dogs barked when they got up. I think Romy forgot we had overnight guests. They went for a walk and I slept in. When I finally got up a few hours later, they were at the kitchen table playing, you guessed it, Scrabble! There was less argument because she was allowing him to do some phonetic spelling: “genre” was spelled “janre.” Really, that’s how it is pronounced!

As we ate oatmeal with brown sugar (his with three egg whites and one cooked yolk on top), I helped him lose his first game. As they were getting ready to leave, he noticed a wall plate I have, where the entire world, instead of continents, is renamed things like “the Ocean of Love,” “Sea of Deceit,” “River of Revenge,” and “Peninsula of Procrastination.”

“That is where I live,” he said, pointing to Procrastination.

“I would, but I never get around to it,” I responded. We all laughed.

They packed up the car and the dogs and drove off to California, first routing their trip for me on their atlas. A few minutes later, my phone rang.

“We left the peaches,” he said. “They don’t look good, but they are delicious.”

“I’ll eat them,” I told him. And I repeated two more things I had told them as they left.

“Be careful,” and “I love you,” because I never want to let friends leave anymore without that reminder. The world is an unpredictable place, and I want them to know how I feel, just in case. In that matter, I no longer procrastinate.

Vacation time!

I just took a week off work and spent the time in Northern Arizona at my house. I had such a nice time. I had all sorts of things planned that I wanted to do--drive to Lake Powell, or maybe Colorado. I ended up doing almost nothing except yard work and napping, and that was fine with me.

The weather was pretty good, little rain, so most of the days I spent moving the hose around watering trees I've recently planted and trying to protect them from the hungry elk that love to eat aspens. "Aspens are like elk ice cream," one of my coworkers said. My friends, who come up almost every Sunday to nap on my porch, call me by my new Indian name: "Moves the Waters" because I'm constantly getting up to move the hose from one tree or plant to another.

I put up several hummingbird feeders and each day more hummingbirds seem to discover it. This weekend I lost count of how many were fighting over the feeders, but at least three dozen, I'd estimate. I finally broke down yesterday and hung up a third one. Each day as I napped I could hear, as I dozed off, the sound of hummingbirds chirping, wings flapping, and the wind chimes that don't even phase the birds. Here is an awesome sight for many wonderful hummingbird pics.

Each afternoon I napped, so I guess I needed the sleep. I went to a meeting almost every day and wandered around town hitting the thrift stores and chatting with people. It was a great vacation.

One day last week, a woman stopped by my house to introduce herself. She had moved in to the empty house near me. She looked like one hundred miles of bad road. Her car was a rolling wreck, windows knocked out, no door interiors, wires sticking out, threatening my curious dogs' eyeballs. In the first four minutes of conversation, I learned she had just gotten out of a Kansas jail for failure to pay child support, and had just had her license suspended for driving under the influence of marijuana and methamphetamines. I excused myself for a minute and went and got her an NA meeting list. "You don't have to live like this," was about all I said.

Sunday I noticed her walking down the road and offered her a ride. She was going to the local cafe for breakfast. Last night I took her to her first meeting and, with tears in her eyes, she got her newcomer chip. It was pretty neat. She also peeled off the bucks for a Basic Text, so who knows? It's always an uphill battle for the newcomer, but if she's as sick and tired as she looks, maybe she is ready. One of my friends in the Fellowship tells me he's just the postman--he delivers the message. Whether the other person receives it or not is up to him or her. And God, I usually add. Isn't it true that it's merely God's grace that we get the program or we never arrive? Who can explain why I get it and my wonderful relative struggling for years with his alcoholism does not?

So until I blog again, dear readers, put out a hummingbird feeder. The small investment will pay back untold dividends.

Some days you're the dog

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.

According to plan ...

It's funny how rigid we can become if we aren't careful. I know when I was struggling to get high every day, I woke up and knew what had to get done from the moment my feet hit the floor. Today, I have a general plan for how I want my day to go, but I don't let things throw me if all does not go according to plan.

I was going to borrow a friend's trailer to move some things to my house up north since I've decided not to rent it again. But this morning when I called her to arrange to make the drive, which is over an hour away, to pick it up, she mentioned that she needed to get things done by a certain time this evening. That sort of set me off, because it would have put too much pressure on me. So I begged off and just made some other arrangement. In my first decade or so in recovery, that would have ruined my day! Today I can work around things. You've heard that old expression: "When a normal person gets a flat tire, they call Triple A. When an addict gets one, they call Suicide Prevention!" Today, that's not my case.
Today is the 4th of July, of course, and usually I write a blog about how grateful I am to be clean and have freedom from active addiction. I'm just feeling very low-key today, which is okay by me. I'm spending weekends in northern Arizona and the addicts in meetings up there are surrounding me with love and care. Last weekend an NA crew drove out to my house to look at some plumbing and well issues. If my heart is open, I've found many people's hearts open to me.
Two dogs are going crazy running around the house because I've loaded up the truck and they know--it's road trip time! They love their trips and weekends in the cooler climates. Ms. R, who is 12 now, walks a few blocks around the house, but doesn't wander far. Oz just spends the day digging holes or bringing me his ball to throw. They are both so easy to please. The older I get, the more I want to be like my dogs.

I hope that your holiday is safe and that you have the gas to make it to meetings (that's becoming an issue, isn't it?) and many hot dogs to stuff your beautiful faces with. Until I blog again, stay clean, it's the softer, easier way. I know.

Exciting times in my life

I haven't blogged in awhile. I've been so darn busy. Here are all the exciting things going on in a list. I love lists.

• My job that I took this year is really a blessing. I have been able, for the most part, to practice principles before personalities in the workplace and as a result have made a bunch of new friends and am well respected. I know because for the first time in years, my bosses tell me things like, "You are awesome!" and "You are doing a great job" and "You have accomplished a lot." I am very happy with that aspect of my life. Plus, I have fantastic benefits like a week of paid vacation and then some already.
  

• My business is going well. I've gotten new writing assignments at the point that I'm doing just over two columns per week.

• My brother, who is my strategic business partner, is moving to Arizona to live in my old house. I am tired of renting it and all the attendant hassles that comes with owning a rental and we can work closer together and build the business. So that means I'll have two relatives close to me, which is awesome.

• I am flying back east tomorrow to give a keynote address to other professionals in my industry and I'm very excited about that. There will be copious amounts of seafood involved and I get to spend a few days with one of the gals I sponsored in the Midwest who is going through a rough patch.

• On the health side, the news could not be better. I transferred to a new doctor here at the liver transplant center where they originally refused to give me a transplant, which forced me to go back to the Midwest. They are taking me off all my anti-rejection drugs except one because I am doing so well. He indicated I may be able to stop taking them altogether because "eventually the body stops fighting the new organ." He also opined several times in the last visit that he thinks my B virus will not return. And if it did? He has a plan with several other drugs available and more in the pipeline.

• The dogs are great and loving Arizona and being able to get back to where they were puppies on the weekend in Northern Arizona. Oz is sick today, though. I'm not sure what's up with him. He ate part of a ball last night and I'm afraid he may have a bit of a blockage. His ears are flat and he won't eat. So if you read this, say a little prayer for Ozzie. Romy continues to destroy about anything she can get her teeth on. Three separate shoes the other day, my briefcase a few days after that, a purse, the list goes on. She isn't liking me gone all day too much.

Yesterday I hit a morning meeting and sat next to my sponsor's husband, who has been in and out for about a year now relapsing. He took his 30 days yesterday and we joked a lot during the meeting. Several times he remarked, "I'm BACK!" I believe he is. We know when we're done, don't we?

Until I blog again, and I may from the seashore and let my pal blog a bit as well, thanks for checking in on me though I haven't been such a faithful blogger. You are important to my recovery.