I don't know what to say to them

One of the most challenging things about sobriety is watching those in the periphery grapple with their demons. Demon alcohol that is. At this very moment, aome members of my outer circle are dealing with alcoholism. One is in outpatient, the other is soon to be admitted to inpatient, a couple more are still in active addiction but wanting help.

I spoke with a fellow home group member on the phone today about how best to be of service to these individuals. Apparently when one has been sober a bit, one becomes a source of information for those needing to know.

I know nothing.

I have no illusions about these situations. My own history is riddled with relapse, and as a result, I approach recovery with a more jaded outlook than most. It's not that I don't think that these gals can't get the monkey off their back. It's just that I'm fully aware of the rocky road ahead of them and I know their families. They come from families that embrace alcohol. Trying to carve out a new niche within families that enjoy their alcohol will be tough. I should know, I tried for years.

A geographic was part of my solution.

All I do know is that I will be watching with open ears, eyes, and heart and trying my best to learn all I can about their process, while keeping my mouth shut. My being sober does not make me an expert in recovery. My being sober makes me an expert in my own recovery, not theirs. But by being willing to be of service and not a hindrance in the process, I stand to gain.

And I need all the help I can get.

blackout in Cleveland

Home Group anniversary party/speaker meeting went well.

I asked T how the hell I am supposed to cram my lifetime of drinking and subsequent recovery into 20 minutes. I was told to find one glaring example of what it was like and then move on from there.

My example?

A few years back I was stoked to be taking a road trip to Cleveland to see a show at the House of Blues and to take in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was filled with questions and anticipation about the town, having never been there before.

Imagine my reaction when I'm standing in the mall in downtown Cleveland, looking around, and realize, "Oh sweet mother of gOd. I have been here before."

I had spent four days in Cleveland back in 1990 and didn't remember.

I don't remember much of 1989-1994. Those were the hardest days of my drinking. I had traveled for my brother's company from 1990-1991 and remember very little of what I saw and did. Technically, I know I saw the continental US and all of Canada. What I did was drink my way through all of it.

So, I shared about that and talked about my relationship with AA. It went well and, of course, there is about a dozen things I wished I had added.

The best part about the meeting?

Seeing a room filled with some serious sobriety. That meeting has introduced me to a lot of people that I have come to respect and they were all there Tuesday night.

The second best part?

The food, of course.

'in his cups'

I need to sort my thoughts before next week. Home Group is having a potluck gathering and I have been asked to speak. A mini lead; 20 minutes rather than the standard 45-60.

The abbreviated version of my story? I don't even know where to start.

T and I think it would be hilarious to sneak in some Big Book speak. You know, a little 'John Barleycorn' and 'in his cups.' There's a guy here in town who is under the age of 40 and completely current and urban, but when he shares, he can insert those phrases and not even bat an eye. 'King Alcohol' and 'shivering denizens of his mad realm' just flow off his tongue, as if he's been transported back to 1938.

Yeah, right. If I was to try it, I'd be snorting Pepsi out my nose trying not to bust out laughing from the podium.

Mainly, I'm concerned about the food (of course.) There's a bunch of holes in the menu and I'm concerned about there not being enough to serve. It's an open house potluck. AA members from around the valley are all invited.

"Don't worry about what you're going to share, Kristin, think about the FOOD!"

The reality is that I am the worst speaker ever and I'm kind of wishing they had chosen someone else. I even took public speaking in college and I still suck. It takes me the entire hour of a meeting just to formulate a coherent thought, gOd forbid I should have to share any time before then. I can have a great train of thought going and then, "LOOK! A SQUIRREL!"

Some call that ADD.

So, maybe the whole 20 minute lead idea is a good one. I can be wrapping things up right about the time that my mind starts to wander off.

hell

Today, within the span of 60 minutes, I went from feeling physically fine, to feeling like complete and utter hell.

I walked into a massage strong, healthy, and happy to be there, to feeling like I had been injected with some sort of awful virus.

I think my client transferred all his negative energy into me and now he feels super and I feel like crap.

miscellany

• Not-such-a-new New Guy at the meeting last night. Nice to hear him share in that he shared my experience of being new in town and feeling like he 'got this sobriety thing' and could shirk going to meetings. Alas, he found that didn't work and that his Restless, Irritable, and Discontent got the better of him. Back to a meeting he went and as he was heard saying, "And I hear you all are some kind of party next week, so I'm really glad I came tonight!"

• Spoke with an old sponsor of mine on Sunday. She has been having a rough few years with death, retirement, money, and family bringing on challenges that she is overwhelmed by. I was grateful to hear her voice in that it was by meeting and talking with her weekly years ago that I was brought out of my AA stand-off and returned to meetings. What I love about her is that she will always follow up a phone conversation with a big letter that is handwritten and delivered by snail mail. I got home yesterday to find such a letter in the mail, filled with all the information that she had forgot to tell me in our phone conversation. Love it.

• I can't bring myself to buy a Kindle because I feel like I won't have anything to leave my kids. As lame as that might sound, my books will be a strong part of my legacy and when I die and I would like for them to have something tangible to remember me by. My book collection is eclectic and dear to me; I look forward to the day when I catch my daughters browsing the shelves and happening upon something that catches their attention and then later blows their mind.

• Made a mistake and forgot to drink coffee a couple days in a row. Big mistake. Big. I wanted to scream every time I heard a client complain of a headache. "Headache?? You want to feel a headache? I'LL SHOW YOU A HEADACHE!!!!"

• I need to stop wearing so much black.

Stay sober. Make it count.

45 degrees of pain

Getting high sounded good today.

Sit on the couch, with a bag of Doritos, stoner kind of high.

Today, a client of mine mentioned getting morphine for a back injury.

I felt a twinge of envy.

::sigh::

I obviously am looking to escape some pain, so what I did instead was go for a ridiculously painful walk in my new neighborhood. Apparently, I needed a demonstration of just how painful life can be.

"Why the pain?" you ask...

Because evidently the engineers who built my neighborhood thought it would be wicked cool to build all the houses on streets that are at a 45° angle.

No, I am NOT kidding.

I about had a fricking stroke. I swear to gawd, there was pain shooting down my left arm and I had to stop just to ward of the hurling that I felt coming on. I really don't think those are good signs.

And then I came home and cried my eyes out watching My Girl. Read some recovery blogs. Did some sewing.

I no longer want to get high.

The Dorito option is not off the table....