Hello God? It's me...pick up.

I can't seem to make that deep spiritual connection with God the way I used to and it's really beginning to scare me.  (I've written about this before so if you're tired of hearing about it...you can hang up now.)  But no matter how much I write about it, talk about it, pray about it, meditate on it...still...it's just not happening.  Okay - that's not entirely true.  I know He's there...I just can feel Him the way I used to.  Which is weird.  I've always found a way to make contact.

When I was a little girl living in a totally dysfunctional, sick and disturbed family, I naturally used to talk to God often.  I would pray for my dad to quit drinking.  I would pray for him to get his eyesight back.  I would pray to not get in trouble when I misbehaved.  I prayed for boyfriends.  I prayed for grades.  Normal kid prayers done in my usual, informal conversational way.  He never intimidated me or frightened me and I'm not sure why.  The priests would certainly have preferred that I be afraid (it was the 60's - the church was different then)...but I never was.  I was just chatting with a friend.

After kids, I began to connect with my spirituality on a deeper level.  That's probably natural after bearing witness to three honest to goodness miracles.  I returned to church and fell back in love with my faith.  It took me to a deeper level of belief and connection.  I watched my children become ensconced and gain an understanding of what I took for granted.  I let the experts explain the basic tenets of our faith, and then I shared my own version and left them to decide for themselves what they wanted to believe. 

As a result, I have two very spiritual but not very religious kids and one agnostic (or so he believes right now) and that's okay with me.  We talk about God and prayer all the time at home and we discuss different faiths and why they believe what they believe.  We debate and discuss...and, most importantly, we believe (even the agnostic believes in something...he's just not sure what yet).  And we pray...informally, conversationally, like we're chatting with a friend.  I'm proud of that.

But my confusion is that since getting sober, when I'm supposed to be connecting with my HP, I'm getting busy signals, voice mail or hangups.  In other words...I'm not making any connections.  Back when I was in total and complete denial about my drinking, I used to feel a connection when I sneezed - and by that I mean - I only had to reach and it was there.  When I prayed or meditated, I actually heard God speak to me from time to time, and once even got the shit scared out of me when I connected a little too closely.

Was that because I was in such bad shape and He knew He had to be there?  Or am I just not doing enough to make the connection?

I don't know.  I'm doing a good job in my yoga practice connecting to myself (major progress BTW) but my meditation practice and daily prayer isn't yielding any open lines.  Maybe I just need to extend my meditation time and stop trying so hard. 

Whatever it is, I hope the lines of communication are cleared soon.  Two years of static and sporadic connections isn't enough for this recovering alcoholic.

No...like any good alcoholic...I always want more.

Namaste

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."

~ Psalm 46:10

Real Life 101

Our last group of trainees reported for work this morning.  During the introductions, I had a major realization.  I have been in my field for longer than they've been alive.  That was a real kick in the ass for me.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they were high school graduates, or even undergrads...but these are business school graduates.  That means they are in their late twenties to early thirties.  I have been in banking for 33 years.  I can do that math.  I remember very clearly what it felt like to be the one in those seats...nervous and fidgeting, excited and anxious, ready to get going because I knew everything there was to know, and yet...scared shitless and so grateful to be where I was.  They think they know it all right now too.  It won't take long for them to find out that they don't.

So while it was a real kick to the ego to realize that I could, in fact, be the mother of everyone in the room (young mother - I started my career at 18 after all), I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was no way on God's green earth that I would trade places with any of them.  No freaking way on no freaking day.

But I started thinking about what I wish someone had told me when I was young, obnoxious and just starting out in my career and I came up with the following courses...

• Effective Communication Skills
• Let someone else speak and stop thinking about what you're going to say before they've even finished their thoughts. 
• Listen. 
• Think. 
• Then speak. 
• How to Manage the Real World
• The real world doesn't care that you went to an Ivy League school or what your GPA was.  You may have gotten the job because of it - bravo - but once hired, all the real world cares about what you're going to do for them today. 
• Shut up about what was and concentrate on what is.
• The Importance of Work/Life Balance (Note:  How to Manage the Real World is a required prerequisite of this course)
• Live in the NOW.  You will get promoted, you will move forward, but only if you can truly make the best of the moment you are in right now.
• Concentrate on making a good life for yourself outside of work.  You'll need it on those days when it looks like the world is falling down around your ears.  There's something to be said for a nice home, good friends, and maybe a family one day.  THEY are what matters.
• Human Resource Code of Conduct
• The only salary you need to be concerned with is yours. 
• If you are fairly compensated for the job you are doing then be happy. 
• If you are not, ask for a raise and outline, clearly and succinctly, why you deserve one.  Show how you add value to the organization, not just take up space.
• If you are overcompensated for the job you are doing, ask for more work and show how you add value to the organization.  One day, someone will notice that you are paid more than you're worth - make sure you can show them your worth.
• Keeping Work in Perspective
• Don't postpone personal decisions because of your job.  If you want to get married, have a baby, go to graduate school, whatever...do it!  There will always be a job and, truth be told, once you have a child your "career" will become just a job so work to live a full life, not the other way around.
• Take a vacation.  You need to recharge, relax and release.  Working through vacations and holidays doesn't make you an overachiever, it makes you a chump.  Don't be a chump.
• Don't move just to be closer to work.  As soon as you do, you will be transferred.  Find a place you want to live and then live there.  In the city for the nightlife, in the burbs for the schools, in the mountains for the fishing...etc.  The commute will be worth it if you're happy. 
• Financial Success after College 
• Live within your means.  Save.  Invest wisely.  Leave the credit cards alone.  You are never too young for a 401K.  When I got laid off it was all we had to live on.  Although I'm paying dearly to the IRS - at least we kept the house.
• Health and Human Life
• Stay fit but don't obsess.  Your body will eventually begin to break down.  Everything ages and changes.  Stay healthy and embrace the changes.  Enjoy your life.

And finally, and most importantly, don't wait until you're 51 and in recovery for alcoholism to figure all of this out.  Just sayin'

Namaste

~Vikas Narula

Why Can't I Mother and Merger?

My kids grew up watching the Rugrats on Nickelodeon which is to say that I also watched them.  In fact, the hubs and I love the Rugrats.  In the second spinoff movie, Rugrats in Paris, Charlotte Pickles, highly successful career woman and mother to the precocious, oldest child of the gang Angelica, says to her husband Drew, "I can't mother and merger at the same time Drew!"

I freaking LOVE that line.  I love that line because it says to me that sometimes I need to just let go of stuff and stop trying to "mother and merger" at the same time.  That even though things may not go my way, they will still go.  That I don't have to control everything.  And that bad things won't happen if I can't control the outcome of every freaking moment of my family's lives.

And so I try to take Charlotte's advice and step back and let others take control OR, more importantly, realize that some things just cannot be controlled by me.  Some things are actually out of my control!  The only problem with this is that as soon as I step back, fear and anxiety sneak in and bite me on the ass. 

I am an anxious person.  I think I've always been this way and I believe it comes from growing up in a home that was out of control.  It left me feeling that, unless I could control it, something was bound to go wrong.  The hubs says I'm always waiting for the other shoe to fall because, in my head, things can't possibly be this good.  Something will have to come along and fuck it all up.  As a result, that shoe constantly hangs precariously over my head, and I end up sleeping with one eye open to ensure that it doesn't fall...square on top of my head.  (I'll bet it's some cheap Louboutin knock-off too.)

These fears and anxieties are built on sand.  They have no foundation.  In fact, they are figments of my imagination.  But, if I'm not careful, they will take over my thoughts and mess with my head until I'm a quivering mass of depression and stress.  They make me weak and superstitious and I hate both of those things. 

For example, the hubs is a heart patient.  His entire family passed away, at very young ages, of heart related illnesses.  He had his first heart attack at age 45.  About 8 years ago he had quadruple bypass surgery.  I can't control any of that which makes me a crazy woman.  What I can control is how much I nag him about seeing the doctor, eating right and getting at least some exercise from time.  It drives him a little nuts but I don't care...he's a man...if I left it up to him he'd never see a doctor.  Since I can't imagine living without him - this is not an option.  So last week, I waited until I couldn't stand the feelings anymore, and, seemingly out of the blue,  I texted him from work and asked him to make an appointment with the cardiologist for a check up and a stress test. 

Thank God that after 30 years he no longer asks questions.  He has an appointment for Monday.  But for me to really feel better, I'd have to crack open his chest and inspect his heart myself.  Uh...yeah.

My boys have an outing planned today.  It's the first one that they will do entirely on their own.  Getting to this outing will require a trip up the interstate.  They are good drivers and their car is new.  So naturally last night I began thinking about all that might happen.  This morning I'm checking weather reports and pushing away images of mangled cars and bodies on the highway.  I'm praying for God to watch over them and keep them safe and bring them home to me (well...that's not really fair since I pray that every morning).  And part of me fears that putting this in writing out in the Universe will somehow make this all come to pass.

I know - it's crazy and superstitious and unfounded.

And it's me.

For me to feel better in this scenario, I'd need to get in the car and drive three practically grown men to their outing, wait for them, and drive them all home.  Believe me when I say that I'd be more likely to be able to perform open heart surgery on my husband than it would be for THIS to happen.  But it sure would make me feel better.

I wish I could really figure out why my brain works the way it does and vanquish whatever demons create these crazy thoughts.  I wish I could put my faith in God and the Universe that everything will be alright and, if it isn't, it's not always my fault.

I wish I could trust.

Namaste

A Public Service Announcement

I try to keep this blog mostly about my own experience.  Sometimes, if it touches my experience, I will relate something about someone else.  I want to take a moment to let anyone who reads this blog know that it is NEVER about you unless I call you out specifically.

I grew up in a house of liars and while I am very, very good at it, I try only to use my power for good (i.e. Santa Clause, birthday surprises, etc.).  I also grew up with people who were passive aggressive and practice subterfuge like it was their job.

For this reason, among others, I am kind of...well...in your face.  I am direct and upfront and will always tell you the truth.  That is, I will tell you the truth with your permission.  My friends know that if they ask my opinion and I ask them, "Are you sure you want to hear what I have to say?", that they are going to get it all, delivered with as much kindness and love as I can, but all nonetheless.

I wanted to take a moment and make it clear that I would never write anything veiled in order to get you to "understand" or "hear the truth" or any other of that bullshit.  I would also never betray a confidence.  If you tell me something and ask me not to share then it goes "in the vault" with the possible exception of my husband and even then I'll ask, "Can I tell the hubs?" before I actually do.

And, even though I think it keeps us ashamed and in the shadows, I guard and hold dear the concept of "anonymous" in Alcoholics Anonymous.  Just because I have a big mouth doesn't mean the rest of the world wants their shit known all over hell's half acre.

So, if I've given you the link to this blog because I think it might help you or because you are my friend and I trust you with my secrets, or, in the case of my family, I want you to understand why I am the way I am; then rest assured that if I am writing about you, you will definitely know it.  I won't hide it or disguise it or make nice.

It's just not my style.

And, to my handful of readers, thank you so much for reading and commenting.  Even if you didn't read and comment I would continue to write because it cleanses me but I am so appreciative of everyone out in this blogging space.  You guys rock my world.

Namaste

Stupid House

Ever since the morning of my "blast o' serenity", that allowed me let go of some serious shit from my childhood, a lot of other serious shit has been rolling through my brain.  Okay - so the other stuff isn't quite as serious as forgiving the woman who gave birth to me for being a crappy mom - but it's kind of serious if for no other reason than I can't seem to let it go and I don't, for the life of me, know why.

I miss my house by the beach.  Not necessarily the location (because we never actually went to the beach much) but the actual house.  I can't put my finger on why but it truly was my dream home...not house because I can dream bigger than that...but the home.  This is not news, I've blogged about it before, even I'm sick of hearing about it.

I have been trying to let go of that sucker for five years and I'm hoping, with my mom out of the way, I might be able to try again now.  I just get such an ache in my heart whenever I think about that house.  It's like I broke up with someone and the other person has moved on and married someone else and I'm regretting the decision to break up.  In this case, the "other woman" is affectionately referred to as "The Bitch That Lives in My House".  I'm sure she's a perfectly wonderful woman.  I've never even met her.  Doesn't matter.

This is such an odd feeling for me because I don't really get that attached to things like this (with the possible exception of a 1984 Nissan 300ZX Turbo).  I mean, I am a child of low income apartment living.  Nothing was actually ever ours - we were just borrowing it and, because we were low income and my mother was a lousy money manager, we were always on the precipice of being tossed out on our ample asses.  It was a good idea not to get too attached to the apartment or anything in it for that matter.

To show you how unattached I am to things like this, I submit for your consideration the fact that I drove away from the first home the hubs and I made together without so much as a glance over my shoulder - after 20 freaking years!  Still shaking my head over that one...

Sigh...I only lived in this house I can't let go for four years.  Four freaking years and I'm letting it take up real estate in my head (heart) like I freaking gave birth to the damn thing!  Still shaking my head over that one too.

There are a few facts that I've been acknowledging as a way to break free. For example, (and this is a big hairy one) there is no way I could have stayed in that house and gotten sober in a sane way.  Not only were there too many ghosts after my mom passed, but there were too many party people around me.  All my close friends were heavy drinkers and we entertained a lot.  I'm sure that eventually I could have done it but I don't think as successfully as I've done it here.

As far as I can reason, God moved us here and plopped me down in a neighborhood where I didn't know anyone and then put Mary Kay Cosmetics in front of me.  A tea-totaling organization, full of women who have A LOT of fun without so much as a drop of alchohol...seriously...I didn't even realize that was an option until I met them.  I mean, I knew it was possible, I just didn't know it was an option for me.  Even during my heavy drinking times I could go away with these women for 3 or 4 days and not drink AND have a blast.  Don't get me wrong, I thought about drinking a lot but it didn't get in the way of my fun.  It also planted a seed, one that grew over time and one that I grabbed on to for support when I finally put down the wine bottle.

And this place is so much better for my children and that, in and of itself, is reason enough to love the place.  When I needed AA there were so many more resources here than there would have been there.  If I had gotten laid off while in our old town, we would have been way more screwed than we were here, there is no work in that town.  Probably would have ended up in forclosure.  And, I have found so many more friends and extended family here than I ever would have found there.  So many more like-minded people who I admire and from whom I would love to learn.  In terms of friends and "family", this place is second only to my home town.  The truth of the matter is that I was a little lonely in the last town. 

Bigger sigh...

So now I'm on a mission to maybe figure out why I can't seem to let go of a house built in 1984 that functions on septic and well, in a town so small you can't change your mind without someone else weighing in on the decision, with nothing for teens to do and no employment opportunities.  Why I still feel that familiar ache and tears prick my eyes when I think too hard about it.  Why I can't fall in love with our current home the same way (even though we are going to be living in it A LONG ASS time).  Why I can't just move the hell on!!!!

Dang I can be stubborn.

Namaste

Some Things Never Change

Not my cobbler but I bet mine tasted better anyway.

I made a kick-ass cherry cobbler last night for one of my "adopted" children because it was his birthday.  Today he gets cherry pie...it will also be kick-ass.  Just sayin'.

I had some cobbler last night.  It was a normal size portion.  Nevertheless, it sat in my stomach like a rock and threatened to give me indigestion so I slept propped up.  I tried, very, very, hard not to beat myself up about the cobbler.  It was a normal size portion.  It was a treat. 

No such luck.  Just like when I used to wake up with a raging hangover, my very first thought upon waking was, "Okay, if I eat really light today and get on an eating plan next week then I can make up for eating the cobbler."  Followed immediately by, "OMG what is wrong with me...why can't I control my eating?"

Um - it was one serving of cobbler. 

It's hard to break a habit that is so ingrained in your psyche.  I've spent a lifetime thinking this way so it might be a little while before I stop thinking this way.  As I'm sitting here typing this, I'm still beating myself up in my head and trying to bargain with myself to make up for what my brain sees as a major transgression.

When I was drinking, I can remember waking every freaking morning and saying to myself, "I will not drink today.  I will spend sober time with my family and make up for my asinine behavior and my isolationism.  In fact, I think I won't drink for a couple of days just so I can prove to myself that I can do it.  Yeah...that's good."  Then I would feel renewed enough to get on with my day.

In the early days, I might actually not drink for a few days but I would be miserable.  I would be constantly thinking about ways to get to drink.  I'd be planning that day when I could drink and how I would do it.  Would I be obvious and just buy a bottle of wine?  Nope...I would come up with a story that would make it okay to break my fast.  That way I'd be justified.

"Lots of people drink like me.  And they certainly drink to celebrate.  Okay, on Friday I'll celebrate something and go buy a bottle of wine.  Then again, I'd better get two or three since we're bound to have company this weekend.  Then again, you get a 15% discount if you buy 6.  Yeah...I'll get six.  But not until Friday."

And I'd be off to the races again.

Later, toward the end, I'd barely make it to 4:00 before I was off to the races.  Blessedly that didn't last very long.

Just typing this has me shaking my head.  Who in the name of God THINKS this way?  Oh yeah...alcoholics do.  Okay...glad I figured that one out.

So now I've decided not to eat today.  I'll be fine right?  Well, maybe I should eat a little something.

Finally, blessedly I tell the staff...(sorry - my blogs are bleeding into one another - not sure what I'm going to do about that one.)

Just...shut...the...fuck...up...please.

Because this is one that another hour's sleep and two Excedrin with a Diet Pepsi won't help.  Well...maybe the Diet Pepsi will.

Namaste

Grateful and Blessed

I held myself together pretty well yesterday.  Got up, went to work, listen and read the news, grieved about those lost in Colorado.  I texted a few friends who live in or near Aurora to make sure they were okay (they were) and then I stuffed down all the panic and fear that had been threatening to bubble up and over because I hadn't laid eyes on my boys since night before last.  Before they went to the midnight showing of Batman and returned home to me...safe and sound.  Thank you God.

When I got home yesterday, none of my boys were there.  One was babysitting for a friend and one had gone out to help a friend.  So I made chit chat with the hubs until he began talking a little too much about the shootings.  I finally told him to please just shut up about it - I couldn't listen to it anymore.  I texted the son who was babysitting to ask when he would be home.  About 10:30 pm.  Four hours.

And then the other one walked through the doors and I put my arms around him and just lost it.  All my fear and grief and gratefulness just came pouring out onto his t-shirt.  He kept asking what was wrong and when I couldn't answer he just held me (his father taught him well).  When I could finally speak and I told him he "sort of" chuckled which told me he was feeling blessed as well.  Any other time he would have been laughing and teasing me for crying.  This time he just hugged me again.

And then we got in the car and drove to the house where the other one was babysitting and I did it all over again.  He didn't laugh or tease me either.

Lord thank you for bringing them home safely to me.  Wrap your arms around the grieving community of Aurora and give them comfort.

Om shanti shanti shanti

A Mother's Prayer

I had a post all worked out in my head but when I sat down to write I just couldn't focus in light of the tragedy in Colorado.  What I had to say just seemed so trivial.

What a senseless, unnecessary, sad, sad tragedy.  My prayers went up immediately this morning for the families and will continue. 

And this mother thanks God that her children went to see the movie last night at midnight and came home safely...because not every one's family did.

Om shanti shanti shanti
(a Buddhist or Hindu invocation of peace)

Making Peace Gaining Serenity

I've always been a little bit psychic.  I dream about things that later happen (haven't done that in awhile though) and I'm sensitive to energy.  When we bought the house prior to this one, I walked in and had an overwhelming feeling of sadness.  It almost made me back out of the deal.  But then I met the owner and she told me how much she loved the house and how she was so sad to be leaving it.  Once I understood the nature of the sadness, I was okay.

After my mom passed away she...lingered.  I could walk in a room and smell...I am not even kidding here...mustard, and I knew she was there (she loved hot dogs with way too much mustard on it and she usually ended up wearing most of it).  We would also smell stale cigarette smoke once in awhile and knew she was there.  Even when we moved out of the house and into our brand new home 4 states away, every once in awhile she'd pop up.

I haven't "smelled" her in some time now.  I thought she had found peace.

And then I started thinking a lot about her after I posted about forgiving her.  She must have heard me...she's back.

It started as just a passing scent of smoke but has gotten stronger over the last few days.  I talk to her when I smell it.  Just to say "Hi" and "Remember...you died...you can rest."  But driving to work this morning I got this overwhelming feeling of peace and serenity and I just KNEW.  I knew it was time to forgive and make peace.

So I did.

Tearing up, I started talking to her.  I told her how much I really did love her and how sorry I was for not turning around the night before she died to tell her so.  I told her I was sorry for withholding my love and affection as a kind of punishment for her narcissistic behavior.  I told that even though we were complete opposites and that she drove me BATSHIT, there were good times and times she was there for me when I needed her (no matter how few).

Most importantly, I told her I forgave her for not being a good mom because I knew it wasn't her fault.  She really did do the best she could with what she was equipped - which wasn't much.  An abusive father who molested her and a cold mother who was jealous of her.  A personality disorder that not only went undiagnosed, but that no one could have done anything about.  She didn't stand a shot.

The hubs used to say that I needed to stop making excuses for her and blaming myself for her behavior.  So I did.  But now, on the other side of it, I see that life is way too short to carry resentment and anger around - especially for something over which you (and she) had no control. 

I uncovered it, I dealt with it and now I'm letting go and moving on.

After I have a good cry that is.  I miss you mommy and I really, really did love you.  You just sucked at being a mom...and that's okay.

Namaste

Thank God for...

A nice side effect of working through my food issues on my other blog, "Changing My Relationship With Food", (shameless plug for the new site acknowledged) is that I'm beginning (VERY VERY SLOWLY) to change how I think about not only myself, but my body too.

So this morning I actually looked in the mirror and didn't hate what I saw...I didn't like it...but I didn't hate it either.  As I thought about what I was looking at in the mirror, I said a "Thank God" for not having ugly and hurtful thoughts about myself which prompted me to think, why not thank Him properly?

So here's my Thank God for...list for today -

Thank God for...

• My family and the way my children are turning out.  I love them AND I like them.  That is a blessing.
• The fact that the youngest twin got a 5 on his AP US History Exam.  That is a huge hairy deal.  Very few people manage that and he did it.  It will count for two college courses.  You go my baby!
• Yoga - I've been practicing every morning instead of stressing about doing cardio and I feel amazing.  My muscles are getting stronger and my well being is improving.
• God's forgiveness.  I haven't been feeling very close to Him lately but I know He's not far.  I'll get back to where I need to be.
• A husband who puts up with my shit.
• Work that I love with the possibility (that's looking better and better everyday), that it will turn into a permanent position.
• My new blog which is giving voice to my issues with food just the way this one gave voice to my addiction to alcohol.  I love writing.  I have always wanted to be a writer but I lack the imagination required for fiction.  This type of writing suits me and makes me happy. 
• The people who write and read blogs, what a wonderful community.

Have a blessed day...

Namaste

What About The Kids?

Syd, over at I'm Just Fine, wrote a post this weekend that got my brain working and now I have to write down what's in my head or it will drive me nuts.  That's what I LOVE about blogging.

He wrote about not ignoring the elephant in the room when it comes to an alcoholic living in your home and how important it is to validate and give a voice to the children in those homes.  It struck such a cord with me first as the child of an alcoholic and second as an onlooker into friends homes who have children who are experiencing this.

In my home, it was not hidden or kept secret but that was mainly because my mother was such a mess.  My father's drinking was just another drama to get people to feel sorry for her which, in her world, was the equivalent of liking her.  I grew up speaking openly about the fact that my father was an alcoholic although I wasn't nearly as vocal as my mother and sister.  I only called it out when necessary to either avoid shock and horror on the faces of my friends or to stop the gossip before it had a chance to grow.  My mother and sister spoke about it often and to anyone who would listen but only about how it impacted them.

As I got older I learned that not everyone lives this way.  Many children of alcoholics live in fear and shame and don't speak to anyone about it.  Often they are very, very angry.  If their sober parent (if there is one) is in denial this is even worse because then they don't have anyone outside OR inside their home to whom they can speak.  Sometimes siblings are a comfort but, as was in my case, sometimes definitely not.

That overwhelming feeling of shame and anger and helplessness, can lead to so many other difficulties as the child grows.  From substance abuse of their own to over controlling behavior born of being the only adult in the home.  And if that child is the oldest, then they may also take on the burden of parenting their younger siblings.  In their mind...someone has to do it, it might as well be them.

Right now I have a friend, well...not really a friend, more like an acquaintance...well, not even that, actually a neighbor who is going through a difficult time with her spouse.  We're not really that close but she knows enough about me to know my struggles with alcohol.  This gives her the courage to talk to me and ask me things she wouldn't normally ask anyone else for fear she would die of embarrassment.  So we talk.

She talks to me about the extent of her husband's drinking and how it is effecting her.  She talks to me about their relationship and how her feelings for her husband have changed as a result of his drinking.  She talks about the cloud of depression that has settled over their home.

She never talks to me about the kids.

Of course, I bring them up at every opportunity to point out that this is not a "grown-up" issue and that, even though they are young, they are feeling the impact.  Even if the issue is hidden (after hours, only when they go out, etc.), children KNOW.  They feel things and can look in your eyes and know.  They are so attuned to our every nuance that we begin impacting their behavior the minute they are born just by how we breathe.

She still says they are fine.

So all I can do is listen and offer an ear to the kids one day if they need it.  It's a frustrating place to be but it's not up to me to make this better.

But rest assured, for as long as they live close, I will be watching.

Namaste

A New Adventure

I've started a new blog.  I noticed my last two posts, while about addiction, were not about alcohol but about food.  So in discussing my food issues with my genius husband this morning he suggested that I "journal" about it.

I do not "journal" - mainly because I'm so focused on my penmanship (thank you Catholic nuns) that I can't write fast enough and I lose my thought process.

But I DO blog.

So if you are interested in my journey with food and food issues and addiction and healing the soul, check out Changing My Relationship With Food.

I'll keep writing here when it comes to my struggles with alcoholism but I think, for awhile, most of my posts will be over there.

Namaste

Trading One Addiction for Another

In searching for this picture I found a link to the Food Addiction Institute - serendipity?

This concept of trading one addiction for another is not new to me - I've been aware of it for years.  It started when I quit smoking - that's when the drinking picked up.  And now that I've quit drinking, I've become addicted to eating...for comfort, for pleasure, to fill the hole in my soul...whatthefuckever.  All I know is that it has to stop and I don't know how to make it stop - I mean...you HAVE to eat.

It's a problem heard from the overweight, obese and morbidly obese often - especially with the advent of reality TV that chronicles their suffering and, sometimes, their recovery.  I watch these shows often because I love it when they are successful.  The light in their eyes is a blessing to witness.  I am also aware of what happens when the cameras are gone as some continue on their new, healthy journey and others, sadly, fall back into bad habits and old patterns and regain the all of the weight.

I have also known several people who have undergone bypass surgery.  I love that this option is available and I know that countless lives have been saved because it exists.  I also know that unless the real reason that the patient reached that weight is uncovered and resolved there are a whole host of other issues and problems that result.

One of my friends who underwent bypass surgery about five years ago is so low on iron that she has to go in for iron infusions from time to time.  Why?  Because her best source of protein is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  When I asked her why she didn't eat other sources of iron like leafy green vegatables or chicken or even beef she said, "Because I don't like them as much as candy.  Candy makes me happy."  She is slowly but surely gaining back the weight.

The bottom line is that food addiction is as real and can be as deadly as any other addiction and it's harder from which to recover because, as I said before, we HAVE to eat.  AND because so much of this behavior is solidified in childhood.  Clean your plate, here's a cookie, eat your dinner and you can have ice cream, GIANT portion sizes, parents too poor or too busy to cook healthy dinners and pack healthy lunches and that's just the normal people.  Those kids from dysfunctional families experience that AND have the added benefit of raiding the fridge for comfort or love.

My own issues with addiction began in childhood as well.  I was a fat kid.  I ate for comfort although I didn't realize it until I was older.  I learned the behavior from my mother who had her own food issues and never overcame them.  As a young adult I began a program of exercise and dieting that let me maintain a healthy weight until my forties.  However the damage had been done.  My metabolism was shot and I struggled just to hold onto a weight that I thought I should be.  AND I still thought I was fat because poor body image is also something solidified in childhood.

So now I have to step up and admit that I'm addicted to eating for comfort and healing.  Not...good.  And in some ways this is much harder to admit that smoking or drinking was because society is so critical of overweight people.  I'M even critical of overweight people - what a hypocrite I am.

It has me depressed because I don't know what to do about it.  I'm hesitant to spend any more money on systems and products and plans because I've tried them all and have not been really successful on any of them (I've lost and gained the same frickin' ten pounds for the past five years).  Willpower works about as well as it did when I quit drinking...without the proper support it doesn't.  I could try Overeaters Anonymous but everytime I do research on it, it scares the living shit out of me!  Zealot comes to mind...but I'm likely wrong about that the way I was wrong about AA.

I would just like to learn to eat to live and not live to eat.  I would like to eat and be present and enjoy the food rather than trying to get enough.  Hmmmm...this is sounding very familiar. 

I would just like to be normal.

Okay - if I can't be normal then can I just be healthy?

Yes...I think I can do that.  I just have to figure out how.

Namaste

"Determine that the thing can and shall be done, and then we shall find the way." 

~ Abraham Lincoln

Unclenching My Life

Not me.

Control freak is a mild approximation of my personality.  I'm better than I used to be but I'm still a control freak.  I am uneasy when things are not in my control.  It's the reason I can't sleep on planes - that is the ultimate in having no control and there's no way I can relax in a situation like that.  It makes a red eye from the west coast a nightmare (pun intended).

It doesn't take a shitload of money on a fancy shrink to figure out where these control issues were born.  I grew up in a situation where everything around me was out of control.  As a result, I sought to control the things that I could control - eating, sleeping, grades, working, money, clothes...etc.  I was clenched in all ways for the majority of my life.

That's how I approached alcohol and food in the beginning.  I had very strict rules about eating and working out and drinking.  The only thing I did in an out of control way was smoke - everyone needs an outlet.  I thought I had escaped the addiction gene when, in reality, I had become addicted to control (and nicotine - but that one I acknowledged).  I had to be in control at all times.

That's why I was bossy.
That's why I was always the nuturer - it's controllable
That's why I didn't cry.
That's how I could compartmentalize my life so that I could survive.

I just clenched and made it through.  In fact, I still clench my teeth at night.  I've developed TMJ as a result and I suffer from daily headaches because of it.  Go figure.

Anyway, like everyone else on the planet I started to get old.  My metabolism began to slow and I began to put on a few pounds...not many...just enough to make my clothes snug and uncomfortable.  And all the things that I used to do (cut down on food, exercise more) were not working!  I was rising to the dreaded size 12 and I didn't like it.  (I was a 10 for most of my life and I thought I was FAT...ugh!)  I obsessed and cried and complained (kind of like I do now...hmmm).

Then, one day, I decided to just let it go.  I remember the exact moment.  I was on a business trip at a luncheon.  I had just broken down and purchased new size 12 clothes and I felt fantastic!  I wasn't constantly pulling and tugging and my waistband wasn't digging into me.  I decided that maybe I should just accept my body the way it was and relax a little.

Boy was that a mistake.  I didn't realize at that moment the monster that I had unleashed.

I began to slack off on my workouts.  I started eating more.  Even more disturbing, I started drinking more.  I was breaking all my rules in an effort to lighten up and give myself a break.  The problem was, I didn't have the tools to manage my life without constant viligance and control.  Consequently, I fell apart.

The next 10 years were a slow decent into obesity and alcoholism.  All because I lost control.  Or did I give up control.  Does it matter?

Here's the thing though - I am so glad I did!  I know that probably sounds insane but if I hadn't lost control and fallen apart, I would have never found recovery.  Right now I am not in a good place as far as my self esteem and confidence is concerned but I am more serene and happy than I've ever been about my life and how I want to live it.

I know that, with God's help, I will find myself again and my new self will not have to clench to maintain control.  I don't want to spend the rest of my life literally squeezing it to death in the vice that is control.  I want it to flow like my beloved Chesapeak Bay - quiet and flowing most days, turbulent and churned up when it storms, but easy to quell when it's over.  And after the storm?  I want the ability to look at what was churned up and appreciate it for what it is - life on life's terms.

Enjoy your day people.  Take some time to unclench.

Namaste

On Being Nurtured

Letting people nurture me is proving way harder than I ever thought it would be...but I'm still trying.

See I'm the nurturer.  I always have been.  It probably comes from the fact that I'm the oldest in a dysfunctional family who often was the only grown-up in the room - starting practically from the time I could walk.  When you're holding a family together you learn how to give everyone what they need emotionally...except yourself of course.

All of that crap served to make me a warm and loving person - it also served to build a wall around me that allows very few people access.  Since I was never nurtured, I have no idea how to let people take care of me. 

Now that I'm sober and trying to get to the root of my addictive self (you know...why I'm so fucked up), I'm trying to break down some of those walls and not only take better care of myself but let other people nurture and take care of me as well.  After all, it makes me feel wonderful to take care of people, who am I to deny others that feeling?

Except that so far...I really suck at it.

Like when I'm out with girlfriends and I'm listening to all of their tales of woe - that's a very natural place for me to be.  I listen and counsel and provide a shoulder on which to cry or lean or...whatever.  It's what I do and I'm very, very good at it.

But now I'm trying to open up about myself and share and then take the advice and counsel and lean on the shoulders and even cry on them if necessary.

And I really, really suck at it.

As soon as I start to open up I begin to feel uncomfortable...vulnerable...naked.  That makes me start stumbling over my words and worrying about what I'm saying and whether or not I'm saying too much or sounding like a jerk or whining or...whatever.

Funny, that never seemed to happen when I was drinking.  I never had any trouble opening up when I was drinking.  In fact, that's precisely one of the things that I liked about drinking (in the beginning).  It helped me to relax and not second guess myself so much. 

Of course it also helped me make an ass out of myself more times than I'd like to remember; but that's another story entirely.

Then, when I do manage to start sharing and someone says, "Yeah...I know what you mean.  For me it's like...", I immediately flip a switch and I'm back in nurturer mode and I'll do everything I can to keep the conversation focused on the other person.

Because that is where I am most comfortable.  That's my "comfort zone". 

Just like my comfy chair and quart size glass of wine used to be.  Sigh...

I know this is a rambling kind of post but it's because I'm trying to sort through all of this.  I know I need to allow people in and, more importantly, lean on other people more.  But I really, really, really suck at it.  AND it makes me uncomfortable and I am not good with being uncomfortable.

But I'm going to keep trying because avoiding being uncomfortable is what got me into this mess in the first place.

Namaste'

A message to my blogger friend Barbara.

I was going to write something about the funk I'm in and call it something pithy like "Funky Town" but I just read a post that made me very, very sad.

Barbara's son over at Back to Being Me is in a lot of trouble.  She needs prayers and support and a lot of courage right now so I'm stepping back from "me me me land" and stepping into her heart.

I would like to tell you a story about how when my parents passed away and I detached completely from my sister, she finally found it in her to get sober (she's addicted to all types of substances but now primarily opiates and alcohol) but I can't.  She's still out there using and abusing.  I know how painful it was for my parents to watch and how much they felt her addiction was their fault.  Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't - doesn't matter.  She's grown and needs to make her own decisions.

What I really want to say is that I watched her addiction slowly kill my parents.  It ate them from the inside until what little capacity they had for love was gone and all that was left was desperation.  They were broken and hollow and it was heart wrenching to watch.
Please take care of yourself Barbara.  Know that we are out here for you and that we are all praying.  Also remember your three C's and try to take care of yourself.

And to anyone else who reads this - just a little prayer for a mom with a son with a heroin addiction who can't seem to break free.

As always...still praying.

Weary

Funny word "weary".  It just sounds funny on my tongue.  Kind of like worn out and teary all wrapped up into one.  And that's kind of what it is really...worn out and (if you're me) prone to tearing up at the drop of a hat.

I watch Joel Osteen on Sunday mornings because I like his message.  This week he mentioned the word weary in his sermon and it got me thinking that weary is a very good way to describe how I've been feeling lately about a lot of things.

Weary.

Webster's defines it this way...

wea·ry

   /ˈwɪəri/  [weer-ee]  adjective, wea·ri·er, wea·ri·est, verb, wea·ried, wea·ry·ing.

adjective

1. physically or mentally exhausted by hard work, exertion, strain, etc.; fatigued; tired: weary eyes; a weary brain.

2. characterized by or causing fatigue: a weary journey.

3. impatient or dissatisfied with something (often followed by of ): weary of excuses.

4. characterized by or causing impatience or dissatisfaction; tedious; irksome: a weary wait.

 

Yeah...I'd say that about covers it.  I'm weary of waiting for a full time, permanent job to come through with decent benefits so that the financial burden can be eased and my kids can go to the eye doctor, dentist and doctor again. 

 

I'm weary of whiney people - spoiled kids and even more spoiled grown-ups who have no idea how blessed they are and feel entitled to more - or just entitled to bitch and moan about what they don't have or how they don't like what they are so blessed to have. 

 

I'm weary of carting around 50 extra pounds and I'm even more weary of talking/thinking/obsessing about it.  I'm getting on my own damn nerves.  I'm weary of having no self-esteem or confidence and not being able to figure out where it went (well...okay...that one I know) and how to get it back. 

 

I'm weary of non-existent intimacy with the hubs (no...this is not about sex...well not entirely) because...well I'm not sure why but I'm sure it's my fault.

 

Yep...I like that word.

 

But Joel also talked about being weary and not giving up.  Because that's when we're about to turn the corner...when we're at our most weary.  God is there and if we're faithful and we believe in Him, He'll never give us more than we can handle and He'll always be there to set it right. 

 

Yo Big Guy...I think I've arrived.  I mean...I know You know and You'll let me know when You're damn good and ready but really?  I'm pretty sure I'm there.

 

However, Joel also mention the F word...Faith.  That's one I've been struggling with ever since I began this journey into sobriety and all the shit that comes along with it (good and bad).  Not faith in God per se, but faith in the fact that I'm worthy of His grace.  That I'm deserving of Him being there for me.  There's always that feeling that I'm being punished for my mistakes and that nothing I do will make up for it and put me back in his good graces. 

 

So apparently, now, when I'm so road weary and just plain spent, I'm supposed to dig down deep and rely on my faith to assure me that God's got my back and that it's all going to work out exactly as it should. 

 

I feel like I have the smallest shovel in the universe.  Sigh...

 

Oh well...guess I'd better get to digging. 

 

Namaste'

Mother...Daughter...Sister...Friend

My daughter and her kids are here for a long weekend.  They are part of the light and joy that make up my life.  I love it when they are around and I wish the universe would work to bring us closer to them geographically...we really can't get much closer otherwise.

Last night she and I were having a conversation like we always do when she's here...catching up, pouring out our guts, gossiping, child-rearing and it came to me how much I look forward to her visits because of these chats.  I am not a phone person so talking for hours on the phone just doesn't work for me.  Email, text, blog...those work for me but phones...not so much.

She knows this and accepted it long ago...so much so she didn't even call me on my birthday, she texted me.  I can't explain how much that little bitty action meant to me.

L came into my life when she was 12 and I was 22.  For many years I was the only authority figure in her life and I didn't have a clue what the hell I was doing.  Her mom was off trying to figure out her own life and the hubs was the "good time daddy" who always said yes.  I was the one that said, "No...you can't wear that" or "No...you can't drive there".  Sometimes it was a little contentious but for the most part I think we worked it out.

Over the years we've grown up together.  Both of us had three kids and I got to actually watch two of hers come into the world.  She's a wonderful big sister to her brothers.  I'm an okay grandma.  Not exactly the warm and fuzzy go everywhere with you grandma but if you need advice about shoes or tattoos, or you need someone to bake some monkey bread...I'm your girl.

Anyway, as we were talking last night I tried to tell her how I feel about her and I didn't do a very good job.  I felt awkward and vulernable and, as she well knows, that's not a place I like to be.  It's a lot harder when you're sober.  We used to talk long into the night about a whole host of stuff - she with a glass of wine and me with a couple of bottles.  But now I'm so afraid of sounding stupid or needy or goofy or just plain wrong, that the words just don't tumble out the way they used to.  They stumble and trip coming out of my face so that I end up feeling stupid or needy or goofy or wrong so eventually I just give up and revert back to listener and advisor.  It's sad because she is really one of the few people to whom I would actually spill my guts. 

But I'm a work in progress and she knows this and "gets me" which means I also do not have to worry and obssess about what I say and when.  It's actually very liberating.

Anyway...I thought I'd take a moment this morning to write a post about how much she means to me 'cause I know she reads my blog.  Yes...it's cheating.  No...I don't give a shit.

I struggle with putting this into words because on one hand, I AM a mom figure to her and I love that role AND I am a firm believer in not being friends with your kids.  They have enough friends...they need parents.

But since we're so close in age and I didn't actually give birth to her, I think I'm safe when I say that she is one of my best and closest friends.  I can tell her anything and she'll call bullshit on me in a minute (but she has a soft and easy way of doing it because she knows how deeply I feel things).  I feel like she knows me better than anyone except her father.  She's always there.

And here's the key to all of it - I know she always will be because more than anything I trust her.  I don't trust many people the way I trust her.  Pretty much just my husband and my kids...yup...that it.  She fills the need I have to have a girl relationship with someone within my family.  The closest thing I can think of is that she's like my little sister that, because of our home life I had to be a mom figure to but now that we're all grown up with kids of our own, we can be best friends.

Yeah...that's it...I think.  Doesn't really matter...doesn't really need a name...it is what it is and I'm glad that it is.

So to L I say...I love you honey.  Thanks for listening, loving me and being my friend.

Namaste'

Feeling and Dealing

My dog Pepper.  He teaches me a lot about how to deal...he's cool like that.

I am irritated, aggravated and carrying around a fairly short fuse lately and I have no flipping idea why.  I've also been a little weepy.  If I were a younger woman, I'd say this was a PMS thing because that's exactly what it feels like.  But I'm not a younger woman and I no longer deal with that crap (yay!).   So...um...that's not it.  Shit.

Still, things are getting on my nerves that don't normally bother me.  I'm having to bite my tongue and remind myself to mind my own beeswax and stay in my own lane (choose one or all cliches).  And I'm letting my feelings get hurt when there's no real reason for it.

So it's established...I'm in bitch mode.  Nothing new there.  But how I deal with it...that's a different story.

It still consistently amazes me how self-aware I am now.  I actually sat down at my desk this morning and took a minute to examine how I was feeling.  Seriously?  WTF is that?  Believe me when I say that while I will spend all dang day trying to get to the root of your feelings, I have never been one to spend a second worrying about where mine were coming from.  Why bother?  Just stuff 'em down and move on...and if things get too hairy...self medicate.

Hmmm...how's that working for ya?

So now I'm trying to really feel the feelings and ask myself, "Self...what is the root cause of this feeling?"

Seriously - that's how I talk to myself.

Or I'll ask God.  "Hey Dude (notice the capital D) - WTF?  What is going on and what do I need to do about it?  Better yet Big Guy (again...capitals) - what would you have me do about it?"

And yes - I really do talk to God that way.  We're tight...known Him my whole life.

And sometimes I am able to figure it out in pretty short order.  Like today I think it all comes down to moving one of my anti-depressants back to the morning and the getting up at 5:30 or 6:00 every morning and working out (I mean really?  That alone is enough to piss anyone off.)  And the 60 hour work weeks with a co-worker not pulling their weight.  Yep...that's probably it.

And the resulting, "What are you going to do about it" has changed as well.  I'm just going to ride this one out, exercise a little self care in the form of more sleep this weekend and some "me" time spent practicing yoga and meditation, spend some quality time with my daughter and her kids while they are visiting and just...be.

Now...how's THAT working for ya?

Pretty damn good thank you very much.

Namaste'

Independence

Today in the U.S. is Independence Day.  The day we won our independence from England and set out on our own to build this wonderful country of ours.  Happy Birthday America!

I feel like I need to qualify what Independence Day is because, like most stupid and self-centered Americans, I tend to forget that the rest of the world doesn't celebrate the same Independence Day that we do.  Like the time I couldn't figure out why my co-workers in London weren't off from work on 7/4...um...yeah.  So to those who are not Americans - today is a pretty big deal here and I have the day off from work.  Yay!

I was turning over the word "independence" in my head this morning and I started thinking about all of my own independence days.  There have been many over the years - some good, some bad - some earned, some granted - some hard fought, some hard won - all a part of who I am.

The first - the easiest for me - was my independence from my mother's womb.  The story goes that I fought my way to be born.  My dad says the doctor thought for sure I wasn't going to make it and that I actually "clawed" my way out.  Kind of a fitting metaphor for the rest of my life I think.  Not sure I actually believe the story but it makes good dinner conversation.

Then there was the independence I felt when I started school.  Hmmm...I get to go to a room and play all day and then take a nap and get a snack and go home?  (That was back in the olden days when "kindergarten" was a euphemism for "play date".)  Even as a five year old I could tell that being away from home might not be so bad.

There's also the independence you feel when you go away for your first sleepover.  Some kids get scared and cry and have to be taken home in the middle of the night.  Not this girl. The first time I had a sleepover at someone else's house and realized that there were parents who a) liked each other and b) didn't get drunk and fall down, getting invited to other people's houses became my job.  I had an overnight bag packed so I could be out the door in 3.2 seconds flat if I got an invite.

I gained a certain amount of independence when I moved from Catholic School to public school.  Again, back in the olden days, Catholic school wasn't the cake walk it is today.  My particular Catholic experience was filled with itchy wool jumpers (yes...even in the summer), Fridays spent in mass where they spoke Latin and you couldn't slump when you knelt on the kneelers, and very large, very angry nuns who liked to drag you around by the ear if you misbehaved (you know...like slumping when kneeling on the kneelers). 

Public school was filled with all manner of debauchery by comparison.  First of all I could wear whatever the hell I pleased even, gasp, shorts in the summer!  And there were no nuns!  No matter how hard I looked and how much I expected one to come around a corner with a kid by the ear, none (ha-ha) ever materialized.  And the playgrounds had actual playground equipment.  Jungle gyms and swings and tetherball courts.  (Catholic school playgrounds are parking lots...seriously.)  And the girls would hang upside down on the jungle gyms so that the shorts they wore under their dresses could be seen by the boys...oh my.  That particular independence journey was a walk on the wild side for sure.

Then the ultimate in the journey to independence.  The Holy Grail of independence for any budding teen...the day I got my driver's license. 

I skipped school and had my mother take me to the Department of Motor Vehicles at 8:00 am the morning of my 16th birthday.  At 10:00 am I was a bona fide licensed driver.  I can't describe the feeling of freedom that comes from driving away from your house for the first time by yourself.  It's just the greatest feeling on the planet...well...next to that first orgasm that is.

Then there's moving out for the first time.  I didn't go to college right away so, the minute I graduated from high school, I got a job, got married (a simple roommate would have been smarter) and got an apartment.  I never looked back - I was on my own.  To go home in the evening and know what was waiting for me was heaven.  The apartment was small and shabbily furnished but it didn't matter...it was home and it was mine.

There were many more - too numerous to mention in a simple blog post - but the biggest and baddest of them all was when I earned my independence from alcohol.  Even bigger than when I quit smoking and believe me, up until I quit drinking I thought that was the hardest thing I'd ever done.  To be free of those chains and all that came with them was just the best damn thing I could ever imagine.  Now it did take me a helluva long time to realize it was the best damn thing I could ever imagine but I promise it was and is.  Best damn thing...ever.  Better than the driver's license.

Better than the orgasm...seriously...I mean the orgasm is pretty damn good but really, I'd give it up if it was a requirement to stay sober.  Ha!  How THAT for serious!

Happy 4th to all of my American friends and happy whatever independence you are celebrating to everyone else.

Namaste'

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism. "

~Erma Bombeck

Thanks and Praise

Today I am thankful and full of praise to God for:

The fact that my daughter and the grandkids are coming for a few days.  It seems like forever since I've seen them and I can't wait.

That we're going to see Magic Mike with some friends.  Don't judge.

That my program is about half way through to completion and is going very well.

That my son is the computer wizard that he is and he's able to help me with this program.

That I'm actually getting up at between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. every morning and working out.  Miracles do happen people.

That tomorrow is a holiday.

That I live in this wonderful country.

That I have a wonderful, loving family that knows the meaning of giving.

That I have a job that's demanding but fulfilling and that I work with people I genuinely like.

That I'm good at what I do.

That I have a personal relationship with God.

That I'm back into yoga and meditation practice.  There's a reason it's called practice...because you're never too far away to get back into it and you're never to good to quit.  The path to enlightenment is always changing.

That, at this advanced age, I actually have days where I catch a glimpse of who I really am and I like it.  It doesn't happen a lot, but it's happening more often than it used to and that is progress.

Namaste'