What I have learned in the last month

The weeks have flown by for me. It is nearly October and still muggy and warm here. We are still harvesting from the garden, but the fall vegetables are in and summer plants are just about done.

I have been involved with the group that is dealing with race relations in the aftermath of the Emanuel 12 atrocity (although 9 people were murdered, there were 3 others who survived but were traumatized).  We have regular discussions at lunch once a week, and I hosted another evening event at a restaurant.  Next week, I invited the City Police officers to join us to discuss how to improve relations between the police and the community.

It has been an interesting and enlightening time.  I have met men from the Nation of Islam and have heard about their views on how all white people are "devils".  It is hard to deny our violent past when it comes to Native and African Americans. However, I am also becoming a student of world history in which I realize that so many atrocities have been and are being committed by asians and africans too. Looking at history, the worst mass killings have been done by Asians. Ghenkis Khan: 40,000,000 people in the 13th century, all over Asia and Europe; Mao Zedong: 40,000,000 as well between 1949 -1976. He had people worship him as a god. They thought he was immortal. What a surprise when he died. World War II was also 40,000,000 -- and Japanese people are a significant part of the reason for that number -- both as instigators and as victims.

Certainly, in Africa, tribal wars have been occurring since we became Homo sapiens. However, because they were relatively small and within a smaller area, these are not well known. We DO know that in modern day, post-colonial African, some of the most savage wars known to man have occurred: The Biafran War (1966-70) -- 1,000,000 dead. The nightmare that was the Rwandan War -- within 4 months, the Tutsis had killed 800,00 of their fellow citizens, the Hutus. The horror in Liberia, where tens of thousands of people now live with only one hand: punishment if they wouldn't join the rebel army. The hellish Boko Haran, currently operating in Nigeria. The terrors of South Sudan, now spilling over into Ethiopia (primarily the Muslims killing the Christians). And let's not forget the Middle Easterners: Saddam Hussein -- 1,000,000; Ghadaffi -- probably nearly the same number. And the amount of TORTURE beyond comprehension by the instigators of most of these mass murderers is, unfortunately, well-documented. There is NO single "good" race. So what I have learned is we ALL have the potential for good... and, unfortunately, for evil...

And then I have been involved in more Al-Anon service work at the area (state) level.  That has been an eye opener. I know that we all have character defects, but let me tell you, getting involved in service work on committees at the state level has brought me to a whole new level of understanding.  I keep telling myself: Principles above personalities.  And I stay out of the fray when the emails go flying back and forth with unkind things being written.  I took on a task and am focusing on that, rather than on getting into a pissing contest.  But I can tell you that I have no further aspirations to do further service work higher up than the District.

And so when I feel my serenity slipping away, I take a short vacation on the boat. I returned a couple of days ago from a relaxing time on her.  I go off the grid, read and reflect.  And when I return, I feel ready to get back into this other life I lead in which I deal with people.

This time when I returned I listened to Pope Francis.  And let me tell you, if I were inclined to be religious, I believe that this man could convert me.  To me, he is a transformative person who is kind, compassionate, and, well--Holy. His humility is to be emulated. What a contrast between Papa and the political candidates we have thrust on us through the news media! I found myself in tears listening to Pope Francis.  He is a genuine person of goodness to me.

In other goings on, I continue to ride and enjoy my horse.  He is going to the dressage regional championships which will be a real treat.  I am going as his groom and support team--LOL.  Perhaps within the next six months, I will be showing him too.  The main thing is that we have a great bond. Even my wife loves him.  She has little experience with horses but her visits to see him, bearing gifts of carrots, are filled with joy.  He licks her and she kisses him. What more can a horse want?

Hope that you are all doing well.  I am way out of date with comments on your blogs. Living the life to the fullest here.  And I will catch up soon with each of you. Until then....

A boundary on drunk dialing

The picnic was a fun time. We had about 15 people, most either in Al-Anon or AA, who ate, talked and strolled around the grounds.  The weather cooperated so there wasn't any late afternoon thunderstorms.  Everyone left saying that the food was excellent which makes us happy that no one goes away hungry.

It's so good to be able to have friends over and not worry that anyone is going to get drunk, stay until 1 AM, or throw up in the bathroom.  And to hear so much laughter and happy talk from a bunch of people who aren't drinking alcohol is remarkable, especially when the social scene in this town seems to mostly revolve around people drinking.

So yesterday, we chilled out.  We had plenty of left overs so there was no need to cook anything.  We did go out to check on the garden and picked enough blueberries to have them with meals this week. All was going really well until I got the call last night from my recently deceased cousin's wife.

She was drunk and slurring, ranting and screaming into the phone.  She had traveled back to their home to spend a couple of days. Somehow my cousin's death notice had gotten on the internet, and a friend had called her to say how sorry he was that R. had died.  This made her angry because she now fears that she won't be safe in the house once people know her husband is dead--this being a house that hasn't been lived in for about six years because they were both staying at her mother's house in another part of the state to be near the major medical hospital there.  She kept yelling over and over that "No one had the right to put that he had died in the paper or on the internet".  I explained that his death notice is part of the public record and couldn't be hidden from people.

N. was also telling me how she had done everything she could for my cousin and didn't think that she was responsible for his death.  There was more ranting about his mother and how her shadow person had sucked the life from him.  More tears and drunken mumbling.  This went on for about 40 minutes during which time I was  doing my best to get off the phone with her without being rude. Finally, I told her that I was going to hang up because she needed to get some rest.

I have now decided that I won't answer any more calls from her in the evening.  I am hoping that her drunken call was a one time occurrence.  I know that she used to drink and party quite a bit before she and my cousin married.  She would occasionally get drunk when I would visit them, but over the past 8 years, she has been sober and caring for him.  Now that he is gone, I hope that she doesn't start drinking with regularity.  It's not my problem, and I plan to keep it that way.  Thankfully, she is two states away.  No service is planned, so I won't be going up there to visit.

It's strange that I felt angry at myself for listening to her go on and on.  I wished that I had told her after about ten minutes that I had to go.  Next time, I won't answer. If I do talk to her and she is irrational, I will get off the phone.  I sat through one phone call and that's enough.  I am sorry that she has lost the love of her life.  I feel compassion and sadness about that.  But I am done now with the irrational blaming, anger, and drunken mumblings.  I cannot have a sensible conversation with a drunk.  And I don't have to.

Evidently, drunk dialing has become a problem phenomenon. The New York Times reports:
".......drunk dialing usually limits itself to times long after the close of business and beyond the daily commute. It is in those dark hours of late night and wee hours of early morn, when most people have retired their cellphones for overnight charging, that intoxicated revelers flip open their cellphones and dial into regret."

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.—Kurt Vonnegut

'Nuff said.

Stars in the sky

Finally, a streak of good weather for at least a few days. No rain--just cool nights and warm days.  I will be on the boat for the weekend which is good.  I am needing to get my share of boat days in, which have seemed amazingly short over the past few weeks.

We have been working in the yard and garden quite a bit. The strawberries are ripe, and they have been good with our breakfast in the morning. The blueberries are plentiful but not ready yet.  I ordered some blackberry plants that will be great for next year. It's time to pick them along the hedgerows now.

My cousin continues to languish in an intensive care unit.  Skeletal and with pneumonia now, I am hoping that his slow death will end soon.  I continue to marvel at what we do to keep those we love alive because not having them seems to be the most frightening thing of all. Perhaps, it's because we cut ourselves off from others, give up friends, and become obsessive about a person.  I see that tendency in myself so I recognize it and am all too familiar with seclusions seductiveness.

My father-in-law is much loved by a large African American nurse who cares for him.  She clucks over him, making sure that he is eating something soft, trying to get calorie enriched drinks into him.  He talks to her and tells her things about himself and his wife.  And yet, he still doesn't want to say but a few words to me or to my wife.  I know that it hurts C., but she is resigned to the fact that he was not much of a father to her ever.

Their history is one that had a lot of upheaval.  And she still has flashbacks of being a child in the midst of their arguments, powerless to do anything but hide, scream or cry for them to stop.  I don't know why he has chosen to shun her now.  But we both still go to see him, repeating the same visits over and over, hoping for different results.  The only thing that has changed is that we don't go as often, only a couple of times a week now. Insanity kept to a minimum level of damage.

My home group meeting has even had its share of upheaval lately.  One lady got her nose out of joint about how the meeting was conducted by a person chairing.  And evidently there is still some resentment hanging around, even after an amends.  I can sit still with the tension and share because this ultimately is not my problem to solve.  I simply get weary of the shortcomings that suck the joy out of something that is meant to be healing.

So I am happy with my plants, going to the gym, journaling, doing some photography, and sitting on the deck in the cool of the evening to watch the stars in the night sky.

“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” ― Carl Sagan

Running free

I awoke this morning doing what I usually do: Reaching my hand out to touch my love.  But her side of the bed was empty. She was already up, telling me later that she had some bad dreams that drove her to shake the sleep off and get a cup of tea before dawn.

So I lay there in the darkness, listening to the sound of rain and thinking about how empty my life would be without her.  If she were not in another room, but gone.  Morbid stuff that seems to have been on my mind a lot lately, ebbing with the sun but flooding back in when I think about so many who have left.

And inevitably my thoughts go to my cousin, my closest blood relative, who is lying in a hospital in Richmond, diminished to being as close to death as one can be, but being kept alive because his wife can't bear the thought of life without him.  His body now has bed sores, his swallowing ability gone, his colon blocked, his breaths controlled by a ventilator, and his nourishment coming from glucose dripping into his deflated veins.

I listen to her telling me that he is a great teacher who can choose to get better.  He comes from the direct line of Jesus. The doctors are wrong because he doesn't have brain cancer. His mother has invaded his body with her evil spirit and is trying to keep him sick.  And she refuses to let him go because she is selfish and can't imagine life without him. If he dies, she says, then the last eight years she has cared for him will be for nothing.  She tells me that she has a plan for herself if he decides to leave his body and not return.

It takes every effort that I have to not tell her that she is insane, crazy with co-dependence, and torturing this man who I grew up with, ran with, joked with and shared adventures with for so many years.  I am a coward for not telling her my truth.  But a voice within whispers that this isn't up to me.  This is not my business or my fight.  Yes, he has an advance health care directive that she is ignoring.  Yes, he is in a hospital with doctors and nurses all around him.  And, yes,  death with come eventually when the cancer causes his brain to short circuit and his heart shuts down.

In the meantime, I look up the numbers for social services at the hospital, and the statute covering advance health care directives in Virginia.  My mind seesaws between thoughts of him lying near death wasting away and minding my own business.  I choose the latter because I know that once I go down the path to interfere,  I will have started a shit storm that will lead to....where?

Meanwhile, another day starts for me.  And another one starts for him.  We are 480 miles apart, but I can see him in my mind-- not sick, frail and with sores, but barefoot and running with me.  I hope that happens soon.  I feel it can't happen soon enough.

Exact nature of our wrongs

It has been a full day for me.  I started with going to the gym and working out hard on cardio and free weights.  After that,  I met a fellow I sponsor to continue work on the fourth step.  Then I went to the boat to strip off old varnish and put new coats on the bright work.  Finally, I ended up at a meeting where the topic was about the fifth step. And what a way to end the day.

The fifth step says that I admit to God, myself and another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.  The words "exact nature" were not something that I had thought much about before tonight.  When I did my first fifth step,  I told my life story to my sponsor--both the good and the bad, with mostly the bad things dominating.  I wanted this to be a confession.  I wanted to beat myself up, just as I had been doing for most of my life.  Never good enough, never fitting in, never being exactly right.

But my fifth step turned out to be an admission, followed by acceptance that I wasn't as bad as I had thought.  And there was nothing judgmental from my sponsor as he listened to me.  I'm not sure that I differentiated at the time the things that I did from the underlying reasons that I did those things.  I believe that the "exact nature" refers to the causes or reasons that I make up in my mind for why I do what I do.  It is not justifying my behavior or making excuses for the things that keep me stuck in self-defeating behaviors.   Instead, it's about awareness.

I think that it takes honesty, willingness, courage, open-mindedness and humility to look at oneself and understand the "exact nature of our wrongs".  Being aware that fear of rejection has been a huge factor in my life has made me change my reactions when dealing with others.

I understand that I was programmed from an early age to feel rejection.  I don't need to beat myself up over that.  I do know that it has colored a lot of how I view others and deal with relationships.  So that tells me that I need to try some different dynamic in dealing with others.  I don't need to keep doing what didn't work.

But I was also programmed to be willing, to listen and to be open-minded in my dealings with others.  Those are things that are innate to my nature.  And by being aware of them, I have been able to find acceptance for myself and those with whom I interact, and to take actions that are helping me find solutions to every day problems that arise.

“We are all a volume on a shelf of a library, a story unto ourselves, never possibly described with one word or even very accurately with thousands. A person is never as quiet or unrestrained as they seem, or as bad or good, as vulnerable or as strong, as sweet or as fiesty; we are thickly layered, page upon lying page, behind simple covers. And love - it is not the book itself, but the binding. It can rip us apart or hold us together.” ~ Deb Caletti

Help me to.....

The luncheon yesterday for my father-in-law's 91st birthday was nice.  It's amazing that in just a few short weeks, he is now walking normally.  After he got out of the hospital and physical rehab last time, he could not straighten out his legs.  His memory is amazing, and he is very sharp mentally.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, says some outlandish things which actually turn out to be funny.  She had us and the caregivers in stitches with her comments that came out of left field.  I'm not sure that all of it is real, because one moment she can hear things perfectly well and make total sense and the next minute she can't hear and says things that are totally out of context.  But nonetheless, she laughs about it all.  Here are some of the funny things she said:

"I have selective hearing and sift through what I want to hear.  Sometimes my sifting needs some work around certain people."

"If you aren't good, I'm going to pull your toenails out."

"I want to go home and if you don't let me, I'm going to have to get my gun."

"I remember giving birth to both of you and you were a pain."

Actually, most of this makes perfect sense to me.  Being around them now that all the pretenses have been dropped has helped me to see them in a new light.

Tonight, my home group meets.  We are celebrating the 21st. anniversary of one of the members.  That's a long time.  Here is what the card says:

Help me to.......

Cultivate the habit of happiness.

Believe that I am good. 

Appreciate the wonders of life. 

Nurture my emotional and spiritual growth.

Say good-bye to the past. 

Give myself credit for what I have to offer.

Make enthusiasm a daily exercise.

Let love change the course of my world.

Every day, something new comes up that helps me to see life a bit clearer.  All the agonizing over so much minor stuff when I was younger, when I began my career, when we were first married--it all comes down to being real and authentic in life now.  And if that means that I don't meet the expectations of others as to how I "should" be, then so be it.  As long as I can be my authentic self, with full recognition of my own shortcomings, then I am okay. 

The forgotten

I was listening to music this morning as I cooked breakfast. John Prine's "Hello in There" was playing. It's about an old couple who are lonely and basically forgotten. For me, it is an incredibly sad song:

"Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more,
She sits and stares through the back door screen.
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen.

Someday I'll go and call up Rudy,
We worked together at the factory.
But what could I say if asks "What's new?"
"Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do."

Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger,
And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day.
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."

Th thought of being old and alone has haunted me for a long time. I know somehow that is what will happen. It will be a self-fulfilling prophesy. And it makes me sad.

Maybe that is why I am so glad to talk to old people and not pass them by. I went by an adult day care the other day and the folks there were happy to chat and share some stories. So many old people are left in nursing homes. They desperately want someone to notice them and to take time to say "Hello".

My parents-in-law will not be among the forgotten. The live-in couple are there. All seems to be going well. I am relieved. My wife is cautiously optimistic. If they can get past the political opinions of my father-in-law, the situation may work.

I know that if we are lucky enough, we will live to be old. Medical technology helps us to live longer. How we live and what we have to look forward to is largely up to us. I cannot think about being alone in the future. Today, I can give a smile and a kind word to those who desperately need it. No one need be forgotten.

I will meet you there

I talked with a fellow I sponsor about the difficulty of having relationships with those who no longer seem to be on the same wave length.  People change as a result of their life experiences.  And old relationships that once seemed so steady and fulfilling can become stale.  It is easy then to fall into a trap of resentment.

I think that it's a misconception that having a relationship with another human being means happiness and concordance all the time.  Nurturing a relationship certainly takes selflessness, patience and tolerance, even when I may not feel those things.

I don't want to live in solitude or isolate from others.  Yet, I find that I am often disappointed by people.  That is the risk in human relationships.  Maybe it is a sign of growth in myself that I can see the differences, but equally important for me is to understand more about myself and how I relate to others.  I would like to focus on our similarities, rather than go on a fault finding mission.

I know that I am tolerant of differences in people.  How they look, what they wear, their financial status,  where they live are not important to me.  I have a need to connect with people at a deeper level than what the exterior shows.  When I think about all the people who are in my life today,  I wonder sometimes how well I really know them.  But I do believe that we learn from each other, although we may travel on separate paths.

One of my character defects is having expectations that far exceed the abilities of most humans.  I fall short of my own expectations, so there is no need to wish others to be perfect.  Lessons in patience and tolerance are everywhere in my life today: Listening to elderly people tell me the same thing over and over; frustration with friends who are no longer attending meetings; wishing that others made different choices.  But I don't think the people in my life are here out of simple randomness.  There was something within me that was drawn to others.  I am sure that the attraction I felt for my wife was not coincidence.  The close friends I have are those that I connected with at some deeper level.  The lock and key of relationships fit for a reason.

Although I may be tolerant around those I know superficially, I found by doing my inventory that I had little tolerance for those with whom I loved the most.  My tolerance around the alcoholics in my life was low.  I found fault with so much.  Once I owned up to my part in things,  I was able to see that we learn from and teach each other.

Some of the people who may be the most difficult can be great teachers.  That is something that I struggle with.  There is a fine line between accepting unacceptable behavior and having limits to tolerance.  I do my best not to discount my intuition and reserve the right to be wary before trusting everyone. If a red flag goes up, I had best not ignore it.  Yet, I do believe that it is possible to overcome differences and for us to meet somewhere on level ground.

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” ~ Rumi

What is real

I don't think that I intentionally wanted to paint a rosy picture of what life was like to others, but somehow in the darkest moments of living with alcoholism,  I made up a different kind of life that wasn't real.  I didn't want to let others know what my past had been like or what the present was like either.

I realize now that this was part of what alcoholism does--it makes me want to pretend that certain situations did not occur.  I can remember that I wanted others to think that my life was a neat package.  The pretend life had to be maintained.  But there would be times when it was impossible to put on a smiling face.  What happened at home could be covered up,  but what happened among other people in social settings was not something that I could hide.

People that I hadn't seen for a long time would say something to me about what a party person C. was.  Always they would bring up the drinking to me, as if I had some control over it, or as if it were something to smirk or gloat about.  I felt for so long that what the alcoholics in my life did was a reflection on me.  My perception of building a fantasy life, of lying about how things were going,  could not be maintained because others would point out the truth.  I didn't want to hear anything resembling the truth.

I can remember the resentment I would feel when someone would mention my wife's drinking in a disparaging way.  I would feel a lot of self-pity about my lot in life.  Why did I have to have this burden of living with people who shattered every fantasy?  How could I make others see what a wonderful person I married in spite of the drinking? So no matter what, I did my best to smooth things over, to make sure that everyone thought we were doing just fine,  never letting anyone know when I was vulnerable and hurting, never letting on what happened behind closed doors.  In an effort to hide reality, I lied and made excuses.

Inevitably, as time progressed,  I became more and more angry.  I wished for the death of the alcoholic.  I thought about killing myself.  I wanted a solution that would free me from the torment that I felt.  I still tried to pretend, but the pretending became harder and harder because something within me had shifted.  I felt cornered in a situation which seemed to not have a solution.

I find that the incredible thing about living with alcoholism is that I could not see any clear choices.  Nor could I see the role that I was playing in living a miserable existence.

I think that I began to see how pathetic things were when enough cumulative events happened that I was forced to realize nothing was going to change unless I was the one changing.  It was survival mode at that point.  I could no longer pretend that things were okay.

I knew that I had reached a low point where there was nothing but emptiness inside.  The reality of knowing that the person who I loved was incapable of showing me love hurt.  The reality of knowing that I had turned into a judgmental, pessimistic, fearful, bitter, and self-pitying person also hurt.  I had little joy in anything.  Every task was approached just to get something done. I took on extra work just so that I would be exhausted and not have to feel or think.  That was what the ultimate reality of alcoholism did.

I'm grateful for finally being able to look realistically at my life.  I heard others in Al-Anon meetings talk about what they were going through.  I could identify.  How could they know what I was feeling?  The more I went to meetings and worked with a sponsor, the more I came to understand that I was not unique in how I tried to cover up the truth.  Most of us don't want to face the fact that our lives are unmanageable, that we are not happy, and that something is terribly wrong in the relationship with an alcoholic.

Once the truth is spoken,  a dam of feelings are unleashed.  Fortunately, I've found that the feelings aren't anything to fear.  It is a great thing to be able to laugh at so many things now that used to make me sad.  It does take time to bring that joy to the surface.  But just being able to look at myself and the alcoholics in my life in a realistic and truthful manner has helped me to heal. 

Denial is a powerful tool. Never underestimate its ability to cloud your vision.

Be aware that, for many reasons, we have become experts at using this tool to make reality more tolerable. We have learned well how to stop the pain caused by reality - not by changing our circumstances, but by pretending our circumstances are something other than what they are.

Do not be too hard on yourself. While one part of you was busy creating a fantasy reality, the other part went to work on accepting the truth.

Now, it is time to find courage. Face the truth. Let it sink gently in.

When we can do that, we will be moved forward. ~ Melodie Beattie

No one is perfect here

I started beating up on myself last night when I went to my Advanced Piloting course.  I hadn't picked up the plotter in about nine months, and it felt like a foreign object in my hands.  All of a sudden,  I felt panic and fear as I was doing a simple refresher exercise.  What if I can't figure this simplest of problems out?  What if someone sees me struggling?......What if I fail?

The instructor said he could see that some of us needed to get reacquainted with the plotting tool.  And indeed, I wasn't the only one who was trying to remember how to orient it.  I wanted to grab my parallel rules, but we are supposed to be using this more accurate device that isn't at all intuitive to me.  So we were supposed to go home and practice with it, doing the exercise until we could use the tool quickly and proficiently.

So far,  I haven't done any practicing because I spent most of the day taking my mother-in-law for a doctor's appointment and lab work.  Then there were things to do when I got home at nearly 3 PM.  I knew that today was going to be a full day.  I wasn't feeling particularly jovial and found myself feeling exasperated and impatient.  Even though I spent almost five hours with her,  bought her lunch and some fried chicken for their dinner this evening,  and visited for a while after I took her home, I still felt like I was a jerk. 

Beating myself up used to be a regular thing.  And that's why the first person on my amends list was me.  I needed to forgive myself for all the guilt and harsh thoughts that I had about myself.  I know intellectually that no one is perfect.  I realize that nothing earth shattering is going to occur if I have to re-familiarize myself with something I haven't worked with for nine months.  But it's my ego that brings up the voice inside my head that whispers, "You're not good enough."  Those old messages are the ones that sneak back to break me down and send me into despair.

So I am writing this down here, "I am not perfect and can forgive myself for my humanness." It is a reminder that I will make mistakes, look foolish, fumble, and struggle.  But I don't have to feel bad.  I can forgive myself and let it go.  And in making mistakes and admitting them,  I align myself more with others.  By being kind to myself,  I can then be kinder to others.

Now I'm going to see if I can plot a course with the plotting tool!

Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands.  But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny.  ~Carl Schurz,  1859


Some of us, observing that ideals are rarely achieved, proceed to the error of considering them worthless. Such an error is greatly harmful. True North cannot be reached either, since it is an abstraction, but it is of enormous importance, as all the world's travelers can attest ~Steve Allen

I am not the Director

I have a good friend who is about as alcoholic as one can be even though he has been without a drink for over two decades.  I listen to him as he has all kinds of dreams and goals, none of which he really wants to work to achieve.  He hasn't had a job in over a year and lives off whatever happens to come his way occasionally.  I listen to him talk about getting his captain's license and wonder how he will pass the exam when his study habits are so poor.  He has much fear and anxiety, yet seems immobilized to take action.

I bite my tongue a lot.  I want to speak up and say, "Hey D., you are going about all of this the wrong way."  I have a lot of solutions for him: Get a job which will end the fear about finances; quit bitching about what is wrong with AA meetings and go to one; do something for others instead of thinking of yourself first; call your aging parents and reach out to them, and so on. 

I think that I have the answers on how to direct his life. It is so tempting to be the director of another.  But I have enough Al-Anon to know that he would resent my suggestions, that I cannot change him to be a mini-me,  and that he has to figure out his life without my interference. 

I know that my thinking that I have the answers goes back a long way.  Was I born this way?  I sincerely doubt it.  But growing up in a dysfunctional home gave me a lot of lessons on seeing what others were doing "wrong".  And those old lessons still present themselves to me every day in which I think that I have a better way. 

This will be a life long process for me of keeping my mouth shut and not trying to run the show.  I know that I must let others fall flat and experience the consequences of their actions.  I am not the Director of their life.  My movie of their life would be a flop.  But each of us has a Higher Power of our understanding.  I take solace in knowing that the burdens of others don't sit squarely on my shoulders.  The load seems lighter just for having written that. 

Desperate times

 

There are a lot of people in desperate straits economically.  I live on an island where about 80% of the population is struggling.  Most of the work comes from agriculture and from commercial fishing.  Whenever possible,  I have done my best to hire local people to work on the property, either as a housekeeper, painter,  groundskeeper, electrician, etc.  

In the past,  I have had a couple of instances where my trust in people that were hired did not pan out.  One occurred when the daughter of a housekeeper we hired stole my wife's diamond ring.  This was a girl who was around 12 years old, and she would come to the house occasionally to help her mother with the house cleaning.  Luckily, we discovered the ring was missing, called the housekeeper who confronted her daughter.  We got the ring back thankfully.  

Another incident occurred when a trim carpenter we hired and trusted brought his 14 year old grandson with him to work on the bookshelves and mantle in the library.  It was just before Christmas.  The day after they left, C. was missing several rings, including her mother's engagement ring.  We called the police immediately and called the carpenter who drove out with his grandson.  The grandson admitted to going into the bedroom where the rings were but denied stealing them.  Instead, both grandfather and grandson insisted that someone else had come into the house when they were working and stolen the rings.  With the house being a mile down a dirt road and all the dogs around, this scenario was implausible.  Nonetheless,  there were no fingerprints and no way to prove anything.  The rings were gone along with a few Christmas presents.  It took a while, but eventually we were able to let that go and not dwell on it.  

Now once again there has been an incident that has brought concern.  I have had the same handy man, Thomas,  helping me for years around here.  He and I work together well.  He has eaten at our table.  We have loaned him money for an attorney when one of his kids got into trouble with the law.  He has always paid us back. 

This morning C. walked in on Thomas going through a drawer in the kitchen where I keep a wallet with cash to pay him and the housekeeper.  I had gone outside to check on the meat that was barbecuing in the big cooker.  C. said that he jumped when she walked in, became nervous, and when asked what he was looking for, was having a hard time putting a sentence together.  She told me about this after Thomas had gone outside to begin his work.  We checked the wallet and no money was missing.  I could feel myself feeling sick inside and so disappointed.  It was as if the bad experiences from the past were coming back.  

So we talked about it and decided to not make a huge issue out of this.  Instead, I asked Thomas what he was looking for in the drawer.  He said that he was looking for a piece of paper to write down a phone number.  Okay, maybe that is plausible.  So I told Thomas that if he needed something from the house to ask.  Neither of us really wants to think that he was going to steal from us.  But my gut tells me that I probably should not trust so completely.  I know that these are desperate times.  And sometimes even good people will do desperate and stupid things.  

I am processing this, trying to not let it stay in my mind and simply move on.  C. is remembering the Christmas a couple of years ago when the rings were stolen.  I can feel the grip of uncertainty lessening.  I did what I felt was the compassionate thing to do.  A  warning.  Another chance.  I think that we all deserve that. 

Good samaritan?

God, what a day yesterday.  I was so tired when I got home around midnight last night that I didn't even shower.  I just fell into bed, hugged C. and told her I loved her, patted Mr. Moose on his needle nose that was stuck in my face, and then fell asleep.  I did not read a blog, I did not write a post.  I also did not eat much or drink enough water.  I was emotionally and physically drained.

I'll tell you about the day.  The morning started with my going to a fast food joint near the boat yard. I don't go to fast food places anymore.  But yesterday morning I was hungry and in a hurry.  First mistake.

 

The drive through service was backed up about a half mile, so I went inside. Second mistake.  So I ordered a biscuit, sat down at the plastic table on a plastic chair and was about to wolf down the biscuit and get out as quickly as possible when a young man came rushing up to a young woman who was standing in line.  He started yelling at her.  He had his fists balled up and was pacing back and forth yelling at her like a maniac. 

I looked up at the other people in line who were pretending as hard as they could that both these people would disappear.  The young woman was telling the crazy guy to please be quiet and to stop.  But he kept yelling to not give her any food because she stole his money.  And he said that he was going to beat her.

Bingo. He said the wrong words.  I looked at him as he was maybe five feet from me.  And I said something like "You need to stop yelling at her and leave now." God, I hate myself when I get in protective mode.   I cannot stand to see someone cowering and being threatened.  This guy was not big but he appeared to be high on something.  I thought that perhaps a fairly stern warning would evoke some flight response. 

Instead he came over and started getting in my face.  So I got up, towering over him, and said that I was going to get my phone (the one time I left it in the car) and was calling the police.  Okay.  That should make him leave, right?  Nope.  He follows me outside, yelling at me, with the young woman telling him to stop.  The frozen people in the fast food joint were watching all this without moving a muscle, pretending still that this is just normal and continuing to order their whatevers. 

So I go to my car, not really turning my back on him, but telling him to get away from me as I was calling the police, and he might just want to head on out.  He just kept getting in my face and screaming at me.  He told me that he could do what he wanted to his wife.  He could yell at her and hit her if he wanted. His fists were balled up, and he was acting like a crazy man.  I told him to get away from me.  I was seriously getting ready to plant a size 13 foot right in the middle of his chest followed by a hard right to the face,  when I saw a police car.

As luck (or HP) would have it, a police car drove by just at the moment and slowed for the light.  I walked quickly to the police car and told the officer that there was a domestic dispute going on right here, right now and to turn around.  He did a U turn and within seconds was right there.  Within a minute three other police cars were right there. 

So the police get out,  start talking to the guy who said that I was making threats at him.  Everyone went off to their respective corners--me with one officer, the girl with another, the fellow with another.  A fourth was standing amongst this happy little enclave ready to taze or do whatever was necessary if any of us made the wrong moves. 

So I told the officer what happened.  He told me that I could go back in the fast food joint and wait until he talked to the other two.  So back I go to purgatory.  I am looked at like I am some kind of homeless guy making trouble when I go back in.  I was wearing jean shorts, a tee shirt, a two day old beard and probably had a nervous twitch by now.  So I can see the confusion. 

The lady who I took to be the manager came over and asked if I was okay.  I wanted to say, "Yes, I do this every day.  It is a great way to get a huge adrenalin rush in the morning." But I said I had been better.  She said that those two were regulars but "He don't usually act quite that bad." Great.  I can only imagine having  to deal with the regular crowd every morning. 

The policeman then came in and told me that the fellow didn't actually make any physical contact with his wife or me, so he couldn't be charged with anything.  He is known by the police as a guy with temper problems and a few other issues that he didn't go into.  He thanked me for stepping up as a "good citizen" but cautioned against getting involved in the future.  He said the best thing would be to quietly step outside and call the police. 

Yes,  I definitely heard him.  I know how stupid I was.  The guy could have had a knife or a gun.  I know that something in me bubbled up when I saw nobody making a move to do anything.  It was like I couldn't help myself.  It was something deep and instinctual. 

So I left, got in my car, and drove past the guy who was surrounded by three police with papers in their hands.  I guess he was getting charged with something or being given a warning.  The young woman who he said was his wife was sitting alone on the curb with her head in her hands.  I rolled down the window as I drove past and said, "Take care of yourself."  She wanly smiled and said thanks.  That was it. 

When I got to the boat,  I had already beaten myself far worse than that guy would have.  Thankfully, the engine started, and I was able to get underway.  All of that went smoothly.  But instead of enjoying the first thirty minutes of the trip, I was continuing to beat myself up: "You know better. You could have gotten up and called outside. What were you looking for--a fight?".  Sigh. 

But I gave myself those thirty or so minutes and then I focused on the buoys and markers, calling the bridge tender to open the bridge, and the boat which is magical and beautiful.  By the time I got to the marina,  the residual of the experience was just about gone. 

For the rest of the day, I just worked on moving things from my 22 foot faithful boat to the new beauty.  I felt a bit like I was hurting the love of my life. 

Later I went to engine class where we had a good laugh over the misspelling of winch on a handout sheet.  The instructor had written "wench" instead.  You can only imagine what "hooking the strap on the wench" evoked.  Goodhearted laughter felt good.  And the two women in the class had a good laugh with the rest of us as we ribbed the instructor who is an older gentleman and hadn't a clue what his mistake was.  

Then I went back down to the boats to check on them and check the bilge systems, do some caulking on one of the hatches, and hook up to shore power.  Finally, around 11:30 PM, I headed home to another kind of refuge, worn out but with my head cleared of the day's events.  I will repeat from my previous post: Life is an apprenticeship.  I am still an apprentice.

When was the last time you danced?

"....to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow." Bob Dylan

I didn't dance this weekend, although there were a few moments that I felt like it.  The weather was wonderfully refreshing. The sky had a number of diamonds sprayed across it. The beach fire was warm and the sand felt soft on my bare feet.  It was a night for dancing.

I'm not dancing today because I don't feel like it.  I am thinking about a lot of things that are weighing me down, making me feel heavy instead of light. Some of these are dredged up stuff from the past, some are anxieties about today, and some are simply about life's reality and complexity. 

The stuff from the past is mostly about my mother.  There are days when I wish that she were still here. She loved me unconditionally. I don't think that there is a stronger love than a mother for a child.  I know that I wasn't the most patient with her at times, especially when she was depressed or when she began to have signs of mild dementia.  I wanted her to still be the strong vital woman that she was. I eventually came to terms that she was small and old and was leaning on me more and more.  I became the parent to a certain extent.  It is tough to see the winnowing away of those who have been our rocks.

If I could I would ask her to dance right now, a slow waltz.  I am sure that she was dancing those last few days before she died because she told me that my long dead father had come to take her dancing.  I am sure that she was happy with those thoughts.

The anxiety about today stems from my spirit feeling bound and tight.  I am anxious now to move on, to put the work behind me, to stop emptying out my file cabinets and computer.  I feel as if I am attending a badly put together funeral.  And I want it to be over.  The dance music is like a funeral dirge now where it used to be rock and roll.

And life's reality and complexity....well, I am reminded over and over that I have no power to change anyone but myself.  I may not like what others do or say but there is nothing that I can do about that.  The bad choices of others in my life aren't my business.  But if that is so, then where does the anxiety come from when I see the mistakes being made by others?  I remind myself that I can't be the salvation for another.  They have their own Higher Power and I'm not it.  This is a dance that I know only too well.  It's one that has trapped me in the past.  I was caught in its clutches of alcoholism and went round and round with my partner.  I stop and remember that I can choose to sit this one out.   

Ready on Monday

It's a beautiful day here.  The windy conditions that made us rock and roll most of the weekend have given way to flat calm. There isn't a ripple on the harbor. Once again, I long to be out there.  I could easily have stayed a week out, but it's Monday so that means I show up and am accountable at my job. 

I feel refreshed today, even though there were some sleep disturbances over the weekend due to swells that kept the boat rocking and rolling during the flood tide.  We would be jolted awake at 4 AM by the rollers and would hear sounds that made me think the boat would come apart.  Once the tide changed to ebb,  everything settled down and we would drop off to sleep about 7:30 AM.  There is a certain amount of faith that goes with having a boat. That isn't much different with living life which also requires faith. 

Last night we went to a sober anniversary party in which two fellows celebrated 20 and 30 years.  It was a good time.  I haven't gone to many AA parties, but I seem to have a great time whenever I go.  The stories that are told about DUI's and marriage breakups are followed by a lot of laughter.  I've thought that a good thing--to be able to laugh at the f**kups  of the past and realize that today doesn't have to be like that.  It feels as if I am in a group of people who absolutely insist on enjoying life.  I feel right at home. 

Tonight is my home group.  I have the topic which is going to be on character defects (and assets too).  I know that I have a host of defects that I have become more aware of through recovery.  Some of them I no longer cling to.  I have acknowledged them and brought them to the light.  I found that pretending I didn't have any faults around others was ridiculous.  It not only disgusted me but made me seem unreal to others.  So tonight I want to explore some of the more common character defects and balance them with out with the admirable parts of ourselves that don't often get the attention they need. It is all about balancing my shortcomings with the assets.  I am no longer ashamed of having character defects. They are part of who I am. 

In humility we possess self-esteem, accept ourselves as we are, assets and defects alike, and extend the same acceptance to others. Paths to Recovery, page 72

Outcasts

I am feeling a bit like the stuffed animal in the photo.  I am tired for one thing and that leads me to some places in my head where I'd rather not go.  I don't feel energetic, have a headache, and know that the bug I picked up last week is still incubating in my body.

I have witnessed some unkindness this week that has made me wonder what is gained by making others feel rotten.  I can go along sweeping my side of the street and then a garbage truck will go by and deposit its entire load right in front of me.  Is the person in the garbage truck laughing? What pleasure is it to dump that load of garbage on another?  I don't know about you but dumping on another person has never made me feel good, superior or enhanced me spiritually.  It has had the opposite effect. 

I know that the tools of the program tell me to let things go, not pick up a thrown gauntlet, and to keep sweeping.  But I am tired today so I needed to wonder out loud here instead of listening to the voices telling me that I too am an outcast.

I know that when I am faced with angry people and criticism,  I feel great anxiety. The feeling of isolation that I had as a child is still within, just waiting to bring me down.  I have written here before that I fear nothing more than abandonment and have for the most part held on in relationships rather than experience the pain of feeling abandoned and rejection.  These feelings of not being able to cope with abandonment stem from living in an dysfunctional environment where no one was emotionally there for me.

So where does that leave me?  Today, it means that I am going to go to a noon meeting.  I'm going to get plenty of rest tonight.  I'm going to meet with a sponsee for an hour after work.  And I'm going to keep sweeping my side of the street.  The outrages, anger, selfishness, and fears of others are not mine to own.  I have given those shortcomings enough of my energy this week.  I don't need to know "why"?  I only know that I will pick up that abandoned outcast part of me, dust it off, give it a good hug, and treat it as gently as I possibly can.

Dogged and worse

I talked with my sponsor this morning.  During the conversation I mentioned that one of the events at the Al-Anon convention was lead by a declared alcoholic who also happens to be a GR for a group that he started in the area.  He is energetic, enthusiastic and glad to be of service.  The conundrum is that he is also an active member of one of the open AA meetings that I attend.  I see him there when I go, have heard him declare himself an alcoholic, and see him as a GR at our district meeting.

I know, as does my sponsor, that the World Service manual is clear that alcoholics cannot start an Al-Anon meeting nor can they serve at the level of GR.  I've written about that before on here.  My sponsor sees no problem that someone with long-term sobriety would serve as a GR.  I disagree simply because I do believe that these are separate fellowships.  Once an alcoholic serves as GR,  regardless of how enthusiastic the person is, then a precedent is set in which others will do the same.  I know that we both have strong feelings in opposition here.

There is a district meeting coming up in March.  I am struggling with whether to bring this up as a topic under new business.  Perhaps it could be handled by copying information from the service manual and stressing that "double winners" don't serve in GR capacities.  But what if the alcoholic remains silent and decides to continue as GR and the "leader" for the group?  It is a question of how dogmatic I want to be and whether I want to push the point.

One part of me says "back off" because feelings will be hurt.  The other part of me believes so much in the traditions and in keeping Al-Anon at the level of GR and above for just Al-Anons. I go to open AA meetings and don't share, much less sign up for service. I have no problem at all with other service positions being fulfilled by "double winners". They may sponsor, serve as secretary, treasurer, work in outreach, and do a host of other service activities.  And alcoholics have the right to the same recovery that I have found in the Al-Anon fellowship.  The only requirement for membership is that they are affected by alcoholism in a relative or friend.

My father used to tell me that I always wanted to carry my point.  I wonder whether this is another example of the dogmatism that has served me well at achieving goals over the years. But hurting others due to a dogmatic attitude is a different thing.  I am going to pray about this and see what my inventory tells me.  Do I need to just say "how important is it?" or do I need to make it important?

Humbly asked

I have a sponsee who seems to not quite comprehend what humility means. He insists that he is right about so much. He recants stories to me about how he lost his last job, only to carry the same argumentative, defensive behavior over into a new job. Even when there is no point in arguing, he likes to get the last word in.

I don't think that I fully understood humility either until I got the necessary emotional flailing that helped me to finally begin to see there was another way. For me, I had to experience enough discomfort with what I was doing that change became necessary. I wasn't going to be humble if I clung to arrogance and self-righteousness.

Humility is a precious thing because it goes hand in hand with gratitude and serenity. I had relied so long on my own self-sufficiency that it was difficult to let my defenses down enough to even think about being humble. But once I came to believe that I could no longer carry my life's burdens by myself, I was willing to have a new way of thinking that included humility.

Humility isn't a negative quality, and it doesn't equate to humiliation. For me, it is an awareness of my shortcomings balanced with a sense of pride in my achievements. I have decided that simple awareness of who I am is humbling.

I have used my isolation, my being better than or less than, and my fear to assign blame. I can see that my sponsee has the same thoughts. It is easier to blame others than to admit that I may have shortcomings. But none of that brought me any peace or greater understanding of happiness. I could not manipulate my way through life to get my way.

I am glad to have reached a place where I no longer have to constantly defend my position. Instead I see how I can be more useful to others. And that is something that generates a lot of good feelings about me and living life.

“Humbly’ means seeing myself in true relation to my fellow man and to God.” - Lois’ Story

Only a thought away

I was back at work today and without the headache. There was a general staff meeting to talk about the budget crisis and alert staff to the fact that there will be jobs lost and furloughs to try to make up for cuts. The concern in the room was almost palpable.

The outlook is indeed dismal, especially for those who are just starting their career. I feel sorry for them because worrying about job security really decreases morale. And in a field that depends on originality of thought, lowered morale can be detrimental to getting grant funding. And yet that funding is important for keeping staff employed.

I could feel a sense of relief as I left the meeting because I won't be around to see the carnage. That struck me as a pretty selfish thought, but honestly I have been writing grants and keeping salaries going for so many years that I will be glad to be out of the rat race. Days like today make retirement seem very appealing.

After the meeting, I went to an Al-Anon meeting where there was a large group of people, including several newcomers. At the meeting I noticed that a friend was looking particularly stressed. So I rang him up later to find out that he and his wife were having some heavy marital problems. The decisions that they are making are not healthy in my opinion and will likely have some dire consequences. I was once again reminded how quickly God and the principles of the program go flying out the window while self-will, fear, and insecurity come stalking in.

While we don't pick up a drink, we are only a thought away from acting on our emotions and throwing away people in our lives who have meant so much. Such is the nature of how our disease works.

Living with alcoholism and addiction creates distorted views of ourselves and others. It's as if I am looking at reflections in a Fun House mirror. If I can identify the distortions and work on changing how I view people and the world, then I can develop a healthy sense of self and get beyond my dis-ease with those around me.

The committee at work

I have been rolling along feeling good, not F.I.N.E. but good. That is until yesterday afternoon when I started to obsess over something that happened over the weekend. I caught someone in a lie and even though the lie wasn't about anything significant, it sent me reeling back into a hurtful period of deception and secrets that happened over a month ago.

I have heard the joke in AA: "How can you tell an alcoholic is lying? His lips are moving." I don't find this joke funny. I don't find lying and secrets funny. And I find lack of trust to be not a stumbling block but a Mt. Everest that blocks the way in a relationship.

I used to think that if I explained the traumatic events of living in an alcoholic household and being in an alcoholic marriage, that people would shape up and give up their character defects for my benefit. I would make the people that I let treat me badly, that I let breach my boundaries, and that I let make me crazy into kind, caring, mature, and unselfish people. I would even practice having imaginary conversations with them, complete with their responses to some new slight that I had perceived.

In Al-Anon, I began to see that the responses that I get when I call a person on their shit isn't the one that I imagined, in fact it had no bearing at all sometimes on reality. Instead, I would generally get a response indicating that I was the one at fault, that lying and secrets didn't have to be explained to me, and that I was merely trying to control them by calling them on some behavior that was none of my business.

So yesterday when the committee in my head was talking loudly, I quietly gathered up my things, left the office, and went to my sailboat. As I walked along the dock, I stopped to talk to two fellows that I know. Both were cheerful and glad to see me. That helped to quiet the negativity running through my head. Then when I got to the boat, I pulled some lights out of the dock box and started stringing them on the boat. The snowflakes twinkled as the dusk came and the other lights that ran along the life lines made the boat seem happy. And right then, I had a talk with God and asked him to guide me into right thinking.

And just like that, the committee quieted down. The obsessing that I was doing over the character defect of another left me. And it was replaced with acceptance that people are not going to change because I want them to. The leopard will still have spots. I could then go to the meeting last night, enjoy the sharings, and go for fellowship afterward with a light heart.

I don't want to have Step One moments but am so glad when my belief in a power greater than myself can quiet the obsessive thinking and get me back on a path that is free of mountains of resentment.