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.

ARCNA is going strong this weekend

I just came home from the first night of ARCNA. It is always such a good convention. The last time I went three years ago, I was dying and could barely make it from the car to go sit in a chair in the lobby. I remember the fear in my friend's faces as they looked at me and faced the realization that this might be the last time they saw me. I am so grateful today for my recovery and the second chance at life I've been given.

I saw a bunch of old friends tonight. One of my oldest friends left at the same time I did to head home and got pulled over by the police and given the roadside ballet because the officer thought his cigar smelled like marijuana. I think perhaps she needs a bit more training, what do you say?

I hope you are all well. I stay so busy I rarely blog anymore, but know that I check in on you all from time to time.

Barbara was here for a few days and left me a lovely gift--one of the beautiful beaded necklaces she makes. She is a great woman!

How are you treating the world?

This morning I went to a meeting and someone asked me how the world was treating me. Here's my view on it. It's not so much how the world is treating me, it's how I'm treating the world.

Those are my only words of wisdom today. Keep coming back.

Another great meeting

I was in a meeting the other day and I heard a women, who was taking her tag for three years, say, "Today I'm living an ordinary life in an extraordinary way."

That struck a chord in me. I can remember all the times that I drove home after an entire night out partying or whatever I was doing, watching the "squares" drive to work and thinking, "Jeez, what a bunch of losers!"

Of course, today I realize that I was afraid to fail so I never tried; I just preferred to hide behind my addiction and think, "The world just doesn't know how much potential I have!"

I am grateful today for the rooms where I can return to sanity on an almost daily basis. Last night at my home group the topic was "One day at a time." I know when I got here I could no more envision staying clean for my entire life than I could envision anything positive in my future. I truly thought I was destined to die a junkie. I couldn't grasp the concept of staying clean just for the present.

I am grateful that people loved me when I couldn't figure out how to stay clean one hour at a time, let alone one day at a time. Today, I believe in Grace.

My home group starts up again

Substitute: "Addict"

I am so excited and grateful. My home group, one of the oldest NA meetings in the area, which ended after many years after the club where it was housed burned down, is starting up again tonight after a several-year hiatus. The club has relocated to an area full of homeless people and while it won't be exactly the same, it will be wonderful for those of us who got clean there to reunite.

I am so grateful for what NA has given me. Tonight, I'm going to give something back.

The gift of desperation

This has been a rough week for me; working full time then coming home to work on my business, as well. There is always a price to pay for bad decisions and one of the areas of my life where I am paying a price is in the financial arena. I am once again taking a Third Step in my life. I am still making meetings, despite how much work is piling up around me, because I know how easy it is to get overwhelmed if I miss too many meetings, no matter what the excuse.

This morning I hit my normal Saturday morning meeting. I heard a lot of good things, but the one thing that stuck with me, because I've been feeling blue, is what one member said. He said he was grateful that he was given "the gift of desperation" which brought him into the rooms.

I know that when I got here I was desperate and I was not sure NA would work for me. I felt like I was just too addicted. But the longer I went to meetings, the more I heard people just like me share their stories and I began to get some hope. I didn't stay clean immediately, but eventually, I did stay clean.

Today I was lacking gratitude until I realized how grateful I was that I, too, was given the gift of desperation.

NA has worked for me.

Did you see the full moon?

I have been crazier than an outhouse rat today and couldn't figure out exactly why. I wanted to stay home tonight and watch the 20/20 special on prostitution, but felt like I needed a meeting more than I needed any further enlightenment on that particular issue. As I drove into the parking lot of the meeting, I looked up over Camelback Mountain and saw a gigantic moon hanging in the sky. Is that why I'm so crazy?

I had a hard day at work today. I let someone else's temper get the best of me and dampen my day. Note I don't say "ruin" because I didn't go that far. But I had a little set to at work that wasn't about me, it was about him, yet I tiptoed around for awhile with hurt feelings.

I called my sponsor and we talked about the situation, how I handled it (I did pretty well because I didn't tell him to take a Midol and call me in the morning) and if I need to do anything about it on Monday. "For what?" my sponsor asked. "You didn't do anything; he treats other people this way, too."

What I try to do when I get angry and upset is to look at the fear behind emotion. I realized after I'd talked to her for a few minutes that the fear is, "I won't be able to work" because I'm incapable of getting along with people. That's pretty irrational, because in the few months I've been at my new job, I've been able to work through other issues.

For me, most of my character defects arise out of some type of fear. "I'll be broke," or "I'll get fired," or "I'm afraid she doesn't like me." As soon as I realize that it is fear and not a fact, I am free.

Until tomorrow, have a great full moon evening.

Don't abandon your post!

As a lot of feelings sweep through my family this week, and I remember that we all deal with grief in our own peculiar way, which may not be the way another family does. I am glad I have safe harbor in the Fellowship.

"Lose the drama," my sponsor routinely tells me when the pitch of my voice starts rising dangerously. It always offends me, but it's true: No one can help me when I'm too emotional.

I went to my normal morning meeting and was late because I had to wait for the handyman to arrive to fix many broken items. The landlady is nice but doesn't take much pride in ownership so the house is a train wreck. She hired painters to come in, probably a low bid, and they painted absolutely everything without removing light fixtures, switches, cutting in trim; the place looks terrible and light fixtures are shorting out.

I have been resentful each month as I send off my rent thinking, "She obviously doesn't know who I am." Then I started thinking. When I was out there, I painted over everything in my life. As long as I looked good, I was okay, despite what people said about my lifestyle. I arrived in the rooms driving a pretty nice car, had my nails done frequently, but was an absolute shell of a human being. The exterior looked okay, but if you looked at my unpaid bills, my pending criminal charge, my employment history, they told the true tale. I painted over all the disaster in my life as part of my denial system.

I heard someone say in the meeting this morning, "I never abandoned my post." That is why he is still clean. It's just that simple. I have, for 23 years, had a new post. It's the Fellowship.

Until I blog again, may you find peace and comfort in your daily lives.

When times are tough...

Last night, my cousin was beaten to death in front of his house. We don't have any more details; the family is waiting for word from the police. It's a tragic waste of a life. This week, one of my coworkers was confronted by a gunshot wielding teen who tried to rob her. She told him to leave and he took off. She's lucky. We could have been attending her funeral. Perhaps it just illustrates which you'd rather deal with: A shotgun or a menopausal woman.

Today has been a very stressful day, from dealing with family members who each handle grief in their own fashion, to dealing with a real estate transaction that goes from bad to worse. But I know what to do. I'll go to a meeting tonight or get on the phone with someone and vent. I'll spend some time in prayer, because for some reason, I feel very far away from God and a bit stuck in fear.

Today I fully understand how precious life is. Hope your day goes better than mine.

No news

Tomorrow I'm driving up to my house near Prescott. The weather will be beautiful. Monday I'm driving down to Tucson for the day. We had a lot of rain this winter (for Arizona, of course), and the wildflowers are in bloom. I'm looking forward to the drive.

Need a laugh?

Then check out this site.

Determination

The other day I grabbed a sandwich at a Jack-in-the-Box where I, many years ago, used to frequently wait for my connection. I was there one day with another dope fiend and we sat in my car for about half an hour waiting for "the man" to show up. A constant parade of cars arrived, all waiting for the same person. It was just one of hundreds of South Phoenix rituals--waiting for the dope man.

The person with me saw someone drive in that he knew so he got out of my car, a grey 1972 LeMans that was a neat car and which the cops later confiscated, and walked over to his friend and leaned in the window to talk with him. A few minutes later, he walked back to the car and got in, laughing hard. "You have got to see this," he said.

"What?" I wanted to know. I wasn't in the mood to socialize; I was probably dope sick.

"Go look at his car," he insisted, laughing so hard he was practically out of control.

I got out of the car and followed him back over to his friend's car. It was a man he had been in the penitentiary with, I can't recall his name now, and this guy's friend. He introduced me to him and I couldn't help but notice the car they were sitting in.

The interior was completely burned out, including the seats, the headliner, the dashboard, even the steering wheel had melted. To steer, he had wrapped baling wire around the stump of the steering column and they were both sitting on milk crates.

It turns out that the Mexican mafia had firebombed this guy's car for some reason, a snitch jacket or a bad debt, who knows the truth. But this guy and his pal were determined to score, so determined that they drove that shell of a car rigged together with milk crates and baling wire so they could get their drugs. Now that, dear friends, is determination.

So as I was sitting there at that Jack-in-the-Box remembering, I realized that to stay clean, you have to have that same amount of determination. Don't have a car? Take the bus; you would have to score, so do so to hit a meeting. Someone firebombs your car? Just use duct tape or baling wire or whatever, but don't sit home and feel sorry for yourself. Some jerk insults you and gives you a gigantic resentment? Don't smack him, just keep coming back and show him what you're made of.

It isn't easy to stay clean. Last night the people in the meeting I was at focused on "acting out" in other ways, or taking the First Step in other areas of our lives besides not using drugs. But the truth is, as complicated as we make it, our behavior if it stays out of control will lead us right back to drugs. If we continue to act out on other behaviors that make our lives unmanageable, sooner or later, most of us get loaded. I know, I've watched it happen to many of my fellow addicts who seemed so busy cleaning up the wreckage of the present that they forgot the determination it takes to stay clean for the long haul.

So until we meet again, remember. It's free but it isn't always easy.

Slightly pissed off

This reminds me of me when I got into the rooms. I was pretty much mad at the whole world. "If the cops would leave me alone," I'd think, "I'd be just fine. After all, I'm not hurting anyone but myself."

What I completely failed to take into consideration is that everything I did that was negative, and almost everything I did was negative, had ripple effects on everyone around me. I hurt my parents, my brothers, and I even drove away my friends who I used with. The whole world revolved around me and my addiction.

When I came into NA, for the first time in years, people looked me in the eyes and talked to me like I mattered. I remember so distinctly being arrested and treated like some scumbag by the cops because I was an addict and feeling like, "Hey, you don't even know me." I judged myself by my intentions while the world judged me by my actions. And my actions were pretty atrocious.

I just celebrated my 23rd birthday in the rooms a few months ago, and the life I led is much like a bad dream as I recall it today. But I know, as I watch newcomers trickle in, that I am only one mistake away from the life I led for so long.

I'm grateful today that I was given the gift of recovery. I watch some people spin in and out of the rooms, many for years, for decades, even, and I know, I am eligible, too, to relapse. So my best prevention is to keep hitting meetings and be of ultimate service when asked.

It's not all serious, though. The best thing I did for my recovery today was have a few laughs with another addict. God speaks to me through laughter today. I know when I got here, there certainly wasn't anything funny about my life. Today, humor keeps me going no matter how tough things may seem.

So until we meet again, have a few laughs on me.

Happy birthday

Today is my natal birthday and I've had another great day. On Sunday, my brother threw me a birthday party with a bunch of my family's close friends and we had a great time. Only one brother couldn't come; the youngest brother came down from Seattle and stayed with me for a few days. Several of my friends called, e-mailed, and sent cards.

Today at work I was taken to lunch. It's nice, today, to feel special. I don't feel any older, but I know each day that ticks by I'm getting a little more "long in the tooth." Hopefully I'm getting a little smarter, too.

I am grateful to be alive and above ground, so until I blog again, have a great day.