What a day...

I haven't posted in a while but that last couple of weeks have been really good. I've been crazy busy with work and life and got sucked into the world of novels. Had to give myself a break from reading recovery related literature. It gets to be a bit much, for me anyway.

I've discovered Nick Hornby. Yeah, just last week and he's freaking funny.

So today... it's been one of those trying emotional days. A girl I work with lost her brother last week to bone cancer. He was 50. He wrote his own obit and it was so touching and tender and sad. He was more concerned with his siblings and how they were going to cope than himself. She came back to work today and I had to talk to her about a file. I'm so not good with condolences. Some people are awesome, you know? They say all the right things seamlessly and show near perfect compassion. I never know what to say and the stuff that comes out of mouth makes me wonder who the hell just said that. But I'm trying to do better. I should mention that she got married a week before her brother died and she's not been back at the office. So I walk in to her office and the first thing I spot is her lovely ring and go gush over it and congratulate her. Fuck she looked awful. And I told her how sorry I was about her brother. She started crying and I started crying because if anyone even slightly chokes up around me I'm instantly in floods, even if I can't stand the person, I cry. I sat with her for like an hour and she reminisced and we cried some more. My heart breaks for her.

Then I get a call from a good friend who just got laid off. They closed her whole department and are shipping it off to Toronto. She's had a rough go of it lately, her husband is addicted to crack and they are having serious money problems. More tears.

Later... I work with my Mom's best friend's daughter S. I've known her family for years, since I was little and it's awesome working with her. Her brother is an alcoholic/addict (my label, not his) but the whole family is in this weird form denial that I don't quite get. Maybe it's because they are British and the whole stiff upper lip thing. I don't know, whatever. Anyway, her brother sent their Mom an email that the Mom then forwarded to S who then showed me and it was him rambling about this girl in the sky who understands him completely and he feels like he's floating with her and it's the only place that he's ever felt loved and safe. Ok, it's late and I'm not doing his email any justice here and he was clearly loaded when he wrote it but the pain I could feel was load and clear. Not feeling loved is something I know well not to mention being completely strung out which is, I'm sure, where he was when he wrote it. S just rolled her eyes when I turned to her and said 'WTF"? Please God, don't ever let me be on the receiving end of an email like that from my son, please...

It's been a day. I'm grateful I experienced it sober...

Using dream of the 'non' variety

I'm highly agitated today. Last night I had a non-using nightmare. I was at some outdoor event and it was dark with a huge bonfire lighting the area. There were lots of people there and I knew no one. One person at a time, I was approached and offered my drug. Every time I said 'No' the person morphed into a creepy, deformed, gooey person/monster right before my eyes. It was horrifying. Eventually I told myself 'just say yes and be done with it' which is when I woke up.

The onslaught of 'using' thoughts began the second I got up. And right now, I've about had it. I've used every defense I have. I've played the tape to the end, tried to read some recovery material, worked on my blog and lost a bunch of stuff which only aggravated me more because then I had to figure out how to retrieve it and that's fucking hard when you're preoccupied with getting loaded. I've tried chocolate, smoked way too many cigs, ran on my treadmill against dr's orders and even picked up my knitting from last year. I still feel like I'm coming out of my skin.

Maybe a nap would do it.

Blogland... and other stuff

I've been stuck in blogland these last few days. I had to take Monday off to get some tests done and my best friend, the nurse, came with me for moral support and to ensure I wouldn't chicken out. Got the results today which really suck but I'll whine about that later. Anyway, after the tests we went to our fave bookstore, an independent bookstore that's focus is on spirituality, recovery and the likes. I, finally, bought 'The Science of Mind' by Ernest Holmes. It was written in 1938 and it's basically a course on living. My aunt is 'Science of Mind' so I have a pretty good understanding of it and I've always wanted to give it a go myself but I've also attempted to read “A Course in Miracles' without much luck, whatever.

I decided to search Google blogs for other Science of Mind-ers to help me navigate this huge text and I came across this blog written by a recorded rock n' roller/recovering alcoholic and addict named Bobby Jameson from the 60's who has also read this book. The blog is a chronological account of his life in the music business and in recovery. He has great insight into recovery and has 30+ yrs clean and sober. It's fascinating. Of course I had to start at the beginning and basically that's all I've been reading the last couple of days.

It never ceases to amaze me that I can read the thoughts of someone in recovery and even though we have vastly different lives I can find a connection. I hear myself saying, 'damn I know exactly how you feel.' Everyone recovers differently, everyone works their program (whatever that is) in slightly different ways. I'm learning that there isn't a right way (unless you're a particular someone I know), and that gives me hope. That gives me the confidence to take what I need and leave the rest. And be true to only me. I see the proof positive out there. And I appreciate and am grateful for the input of others.

So the dreaded test results, ugh. I have to have surgery and there are two different procedures. These test results determine which procedure I will have. One, I would only be heavily sedated, the other, I would have to go under. I'm terrified of going under. I had my son by emergency c-section and I don't know if they messed up but I was half awake when they started intubating me. Maybe being pregnant they couldn't use certain pharmaceuticals to put me under, I don't know but I felt like I was being strangled and my thoughts at the time were, 'I'm going to die and never hold my baby'. It wasn't over in a split second, it took what seemed like forever and I had nightmares for a couple months after that. Well, I have to be put under. When I got the news I started tearing up, there in the lunch room with 6 co-workers, two of them boys. I don't do things like this. Normally I keep these things to myself. I don't know what possessed me to answer my phone and where the hell is my self control these days? Seems it's all I do is cry lately. Doesn't help that J and the babes moved away this week, or the other stuff that's going on but enough already. Everyone was real concerned, when Dave, the office jokester, says, 'hey, you're having a really good hair day today' to which everyone replies, 'yes, yes, you look really nice today.' Subtle (not) attempt guys, it was really funny.

I don't like being in situations, like going under, where I have zero control. I think that's why my drug of choice is what it is. I like to be in control. I can't even sleep in a moving vehicle or on a plane and it's about feeling like I have no control. I know there's nothing I could do if something were to go sideways but staying awake makes me feel like I have control. My surgery isn't for a couple months so I need a serious dose of faith and fast!

'It's not hard to grow, when you know that you just don't know.'

You know that person who talks the talk but the walking part isn't even in their consciousness?

the one that is basically the same person who first came to the rooms 8, 12, 20 years ago but aside from the fact that they are clean and sober nothing has really changed for them. Sure, some surface stuff like being employable and being upright but basically they are the same fucked up asshole they were while they were out drinking and drugging and now the ONLY THING that keeps them clean and sober are meetings and pride and ego?

the one who gets talked about behind their back for their asshole ways and (it never fails) someone in the crowd always says 'progress not perfection'?

the one who, after showing their true colours and getting called on it, says 'well, you should have seen me years ago when I was using”, like being more of an asshole back then somehow makes what is happening right now o.k?

I will never be that person.

ahhh, Saturday morning

Thought I'd post a pic from our trip to Dominica. It's the view from our patio at sunrise. It wasn't hard waking up to that every morning.

I love Saturday mornings. My house is quiet and glisteningly clean. Here's some free advice. If you like a tidy house, if a messy house messes with your serenity, and if you live in a dry climate, with two cats, DO NOT buy a black glass top stove, even if the rest of the stove is stainless and you've been wanting stainless for years, DON"T do it. Anyway, my husband is out golfing. And our teenager won't be up for a couple hours. Old kitty has retired for the morning and new kitty is sitting here watching me type. Doesn't get much better than this.

In a few hours the twins will be here and it will be quiet no more. My sis is bringing them over so they can finish cleaning their house for the new owners. I'm sure it will be a sad day for her and her husband, leaving this beautiful home that they renovated from top to bottom. New hardwood, new kitchen and four new bathrooms. It took them a year. In this sorry economy they did really well.

I'm still wrapping my brain around the fact that next week she's leaving.

Change is good. Change is good. Change is good.

I think I'll go enjoy the sun on my new deck that remains unstained due to the monsoons that, thankfully, have passed.

'Gravity won't get you through the mazes. You can never travel by the way you've come.'

So I have (just had to look it up) 26 days today. I'm not crazy about the whole counting thing. Maybe once (if) I'm into years I'll pay more attention to time, who knows.

It's been a trying 26 days, but I feel like I'm turning a corner. I'm making every effort to be honest with myself, something that doesn't come natural to me. We addicts perfect denial. Well this one did anyway.

During my 26 days, I had a falling out with a friend. Yeah, I think it's safe to say that our friendship is irretrievably broken. And it sucks whichever way I look at it.

I've been wanting to call my friend L, who was friends with the one I had the falling out with. They too had a major falling out. I know if I call her she'll tell me that this is what he does. He loses every friend he's ever had, he's incapable of friendship. I've heard it all before. She would tell me I'm right and he's wrong, she'd bring up all of his ex-friends etc etc etc. I know that I'd only be calling to hear her go off on him so that it might make me stop feeling so bad, instead of just telling her the truth of how sad I feel about this. That's what this is about. I'm beyond who's right and who's wrong This is about my inability to admit what I'm feeling and my super skilled way at avoiding how I'm feeling. I won't call.

It's the same thing with my very best friend C. She's feeling bad for me (we were grand friends and she knows how much he meant to me) and I'm like all bravado, it's cool. I make sure we talk around the pain of it all, when really I want to cry and hear her tell me it'll be ok.

Without insight, I believe we all act out of our injuries. I'm trying to pinpoint which scar of mine makes it so hard for me to be honest about how I'm feeling. If I open the flood gates it would probably be best to have someone with me to at least prevent me from drowning, no? Ok, that's a bit of overkill (listening to too much Neko Case) but perhaps it would be good for me to try therapy again, you know, objective person, safe place. It's not been a real success for me in the past, apparently you have to tell the truth or something.

But I'm in a different place now and I'm motivated.

My sis' farewell party was a blast. Bittersweet, to be sure. She's leaving, ugh. They had a guitar pull and I've never seen so many guitars in one room. We all had to learn something new for the party and I chose Radiohead's 'Fake Plastic Trees'. Easy for the beginner that I am. I got to connect with people that I haven't seen in ages. I was a bit worried about being in a potentially slippery place but it went well. I'm staying focused, trying to anyway.

Bloody hell...

I'm pissed that I spent the day wishing I was loaded.
I'm pissed that my brain won't stop telling me that this is never going to work out.
I'm pissed that the pain of NOT using is surpassing the pain of using.
I'm pissed that I can't recall how bad it got.
I'm pissed that I ever googled 'Marijuana Anonymous"
I'm pissed that I ever logged in to MA Online.
I'm pissed that I can't stop feeling like I've wasted the last 4 years of my life.
I'm pissed that I'm gullible.
I'm pissed that we met.
I'm pissed that I don't have any answers.
I'm pissed that I can't find any answers.
I'm pissed that I won't make more of an effort.
I'm pissed that my sister is leaving.
I'm pissed that I hate my job.
I'm pissed that my head has been pounding for days.
I'm pissed that I'm bored.
And, I'm pissed that this is my life.