Into September

The summer is officially over but the heat and humidity continues here. This has been a difficult summer. In fact, it almost seems as if there hasn't been much of one, at least from having a lot of time to just relax. The death of Pop and my cousin in June definitely cast a pall over the usual happy times.

I shared my Al-Anon story twice in August: at my home group and at a meeting I helped start and regularly attend.  At that meeting, anniversaries are celebrated at the end of the month. There were three of us who were celebrating anniversaries in August, but I was the only one who showed up.  I had hoped to not have to talk again for 45 minutes, but as usually occurs, the words came out in something that appeared to resonate with others.

A group of us went to dinner afterwards which is usually fun. This time a lady came who has generally been fairly quiet in meetings, often sitting and crying about her daughter who is an addict. She has identified herself as a therapist and talked and talked during the whole meal. It's interesting how people can have an entirely different persona outside of meetings.  Perhaps manic talking is a mask for the terror that she feels?

I've joined a book study group that meets before the regular Al-Anon meeting. We are reading a book called Discovering Choices.  It's about relationships, a topic that interests me because I have basically had difficulty with knowing how to have a healthy relationship for most of my life.

And the book is about having healthy relationships and not the co-dependent kind which is filled with mistrust, fear and anger. Anyway, the book states that "Wherever we may be in our search for healthy relationships, we
have to begin where we are today. It may be painful to think how much better our relationships could have—or should have—been. There’s no point in criticizing ourselves when we did the best we could with what we had. We can gain peace of mind by putting aside what we could or should have done and by accepting who and where we are right now." The book is generating a lot of good discussion in the group as each of us tries to look at present relationships without guilt and regret.

I have been approved as a Hospice volunteer and will start with photographing for a memory book of a lady who is dying. I don't know how I will feel, but somehow think that being a volunteer will be mutually beneficial. My wife thinks that I am too tender for this--that it will sadden me. I may be too tender. But I want to see what I feel and what I can learn from those who are facing their own imminent death.  I will let you know how that goes.

Next week, I am going on the boat for three days. I am looking forward to getting away more than I can say.  I have missed going out every week.  It isn't the same to be on the boat at the marina. The view is magnificent of the city and the harbor, but I need the solitude that comes from casting off lines and heading to the "secret" island.  I feel as if I have been holding my breath and am waiting to exhale upon arrival there.  It is my tree house on the water--a place where I can wear as few clothes as possible and live a nomad's life for a few days.  This winter, the voyage may become much longer as I plan to head down the coast to somewhere tropical. Lots of options at the moment.  And I am savoring each and every one.

Borders

I have finished the classroom part of the Captain's license for un-inspected passenger vessels.  This coming weekend I'll be in the classroom for the Master's license.  This license will be for either a 25, 50 or 100 ton vessel, depending on the amount of sea time that I have and the size of the vessels on which I've worked.  I think that I'll probably have enough time (360 days) on board to get the 50 ton license.

I have five exams to take.  The first two, Navigation General and Deck General, will be taken this Thursday.  I hope to take the next two, Chart Plotting and Rules of the Road, on July 6 and July 7.  After those are done, then I will take the exam for the Master's.  Rules of the Road is the subject that requires a lot of memorization. It is also considered to be the most difficult because out of 30 questions, only 3 may be missed.

I have spent my time studying. I've also found that, while my memory is good, it is not nearly what it used to be.  All the little day shapes and lights and sounds for each vessel type are starting to come together but not at the point where I feel as if I can just reel them off.  I study them for a few hours each day, while also studying for the other exams.

I am not having much fun with this since there is so much material.  It is like being back in college on finals week.  But I keep telling myself that in another couple of weeks, it will be over.  Maybe then, I won't be driving down the road and see two white lights in a row vertically and be thinking "Those are lights for a tug whose tow is < 200 meters".

I have mentally been bemoaning that I haven't been having much fun lately.  And just when I do this, I get a reminder that what I'm doing for these few weeks isn't bad, not dangerous, not going to hurt me.  That reminder came in the form of a share at my home group meeting last night. It was the one year anniversary of J.  I remember when she first came to Al-Anon last summer, a shy young woman who just graduated from high school.

Last night, she told her story of being born in Mexico and at age 9 crossing the U.S. border with her mother and two brothers.  They had been told by the "coyote" to bring enough food and water for a day's walk.  After getting what belongings they could carry, the group of people started walking towards the border.

The walk across the desert turned into three days and four nights during which all ran out of water and had very little food.  J. told of seeing dead bodies as they walked, of people on the journey who became sick and were left behind, of the heat and thirst the group endured.

The group eventually arrived at a house where people brought over by other "coyotes" were staying.  There were perhaps forty people in each room.  The "coyotes" carried guns and threatened to tie concrete blocks to the legs of the children and sink them in the river unless they were paid.  J's mother was waiting on money to be sent from her sister in Florida, but it didn't arrive right away.

After several days with threats from the "coyotes" and with violence among them as one group tried to take guns away from others, the police arrived.  J. and her family escaped from the house during the commotion and found their way to a 24 hour convenience store.  They had no money but thought that they would be safer there than in the woods.

During the late afternoon, a woman and a man drove up in a van.  The woman bought something in the store, came out, and kept looking at J. and her family who were a road worn and sad group.  She eventually came over and asked them if they were okay.  J's mother told her what had happened.  The woman went to the van, said something to her husband, and came back to invite the four of them to their house.  They stayed with this kind couple for three weeks until the money finally arrived from Florida.  The family then boarded a bus that took them to pick oranges in Florida.

After the orange harvest, they traveled to South Carolina to pick tomatoes.  J.'s father arrived here after his border crossing.  The family decided to stay in SC and were offered work on a farm where the mother cleaned, the father and sons worked in the fields, and J. took care of the animals.

Not long after their arrival in SC,  J. was raped by her step-brother who had come to visit.  She was raped later by a cousin as well.  She didn't tell anyone immediately because she had been told that she would be killed if she told.

By this time, she was enrolled in school, being tutored in English and making excellent grades.  The first rape happened on a Sunday.  Because she didn't want to miss school, she went as usual on Monday.  At school, some of her friends knew that she was troubled so she confided in them about the rape.  Soon the teachers knew and J. was taken by a counselor to a hospital where she was examined and evidence collected.

After the rape, she became despondent. She couldn't concentrate in school.  Her grades slipped.  She kept going to therapists but mostly they would ask, "How do you feel today?".  Finally, she was assigned to N. who really listened to her.  J. began to trust N. and talked to her not only about the rape but about how both her parents were alcoholics.  It was through N. that J. got to Al-Anon and the little meeting that I call "home".

J. is a remarkable young woman.  She graduated in the top five of her class in middle school and in the top ten of her Senior class in high school.  She has been verbally and emotionally abused by her father, yet she feels compassion for him.  Her full brother who is a drug addict stole all of her saved money from her.  She called the police who deported him.  She works whenever she can taking care of animals and babysitting.  Her hope is to become an American citizen, go to college and become a nurse.

I know that there are so many people like J.  She has come a long way since struggling across the desert.  She shared that she has found people to trust in Al-Anon, people that she can call, people who won't judge her.  And that she has found her own Higher Power who gives her comfort.

I heard just what I needed to hear from this young person at the time when I needed to hear it.  Amazing how that works.

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,

I felt the life sliding out of me,

a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.

I was seven, I lay in the car

watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern

past the glass.

My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

"How do you know if you are going to die?"

I begged my mother.

We had been traveling for days.

With strange confidence she answered,

"When you can no longer make a fist."

Years later I smile to think of that journey,

the borders we must cross separately,

stamped with our unanswerable woes.

I who did not die, who am still living,

still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,

clenching and opening one small hand.— Naomi Shihab Nye

Cunning, Baffling, and Powerful Part 3

The final part of Laura's email about her friend Daria. 


October 2008

Daria's husband Don had her move out in October of 2008. He couldn't cope any more and from her description, the fights were getting more out of control. He had a restraining order put on her so she moved into my sister Karen's house. I certainly could not and do not blame him for throwing her out of the house. She was apparently violent when she was drunk and it was getting worse. We could hardly credit Don's description because she seemed so gentle when we saw her. However we could see that she was spiraling out of control and we still prayed constantly for a miracle. Her obsession with Alice continued to the point that my brother in law insisted that she could not talk about Alice any more. Hearing her rant about Alice was disturbing because it showed her complete deflection of anything concerning her own behavior.

It also came to light at that time that several times she passed out drunk and her son Mike escaped the house and ran down the street. She was lucky he wasn't hit by a car because he is not an average child who could be expected to understand about traffic. It also happened at least once during vacation so she could not be trusted with him.

February 2009

Daria had gotten her own apartment and that just seemed to feed her illness. She had pulled away from all of us so we saw her rarely. One night I got a call from her brother in law who is a doctor in Montana. He said that Daria would go to the hospital to get fluids. 

I went over to her house, but when I got there she refused to come to the door and unlock it. My sister Karen came over because she had a key to the door, but did not have a key to the deadbolt. Daria refused to come to the door at first, but after much cajoling we got her to come. It was pathetic. She opened the door and then staggered back to where she had been lying. She literally was lying down in her dog's bed curled into a fetal position. 

We finally got her into the car and over to the hospital. I stayed all night at the hospital and finally she was committed. They had to do it against her will, but it was necessary because she was a danger to herself.  Daria's requirement was that she wouldn't go to the hospital unless we took care of her dog Smoky. We had an extremely old Labrador, Darling, who did not get along with other dogs. The day before this happened, Darling lost her battle with her age and we had to put her down. Because of this, we were able to take care of Smoky and were able to get Daria into the hospital.

I picked Daria up from the hospital and continued to tell her the truth. The doctor said she was dying. We were all telling her that she was dying from her alcohol consumption, but she still refused to acknowledge it. She pretty much broke off contact with us which meant she was drinking heavily and didn't want us to know.

March 2009

Daria was jailed. I'm still not sure of the reasons, I believe it was violating the restraining order.  So for the first time in a few years, Daria was forcibly sober.

Daria called from jail and said that everyone was picking on her.  Nothing was her fault. I tried to talk to her and show her that people were trying to help.  I told her that she was near death. I sent her two letters. The first that laid out the cold hard facts about her alcoholism and the fact that none of us expected her to see her next birthday. The second telling her that she could beat the alcohol if she had a spiritual awakening. She didn't want to hear any of it.

Talking with her was really a chore at this point. Whenever I talked to her, everything was someone else's fault or it was due to pressure, or something else. It was never that she was drinking herself to death. Even when you pointed out how events related to her excessive consumption of alcohol, it didn't matter. She still didn't believe it.

Unfortunately, they released Daria after her hearing. I knew it was a death sentence for her, but they obviously cannot jail you without good cause. I knew at that point she was going to die. I hadn't seen anything that showed that she comprehended what was happening. You can't choose to be sober when you still don't admit that you're drinking.

My sister Karen who is the gentlest of souls sat down with Daria and told her she could have nothing more to do with her. Karen didn't expect her to live until April and wasn't going to stand around watching Daria kill herself.

Summer 2009

My brother in law and I went over to Daria's house to try and get her to eat. Rob is wonderful at coaxing people so he was at least trying to get food into her system. She was staggering drunk but of course denied it. I opened her kitchen cupboards and saw many bottles of opened wine there. I told her since she wasn't drinking I'd get rid of all the alcohol for her. She got furious and started yelling that we had to leave the house. She said she was going to call the police on us if we didn't leave immediately. Rob and I left.

January 2010

Daria was driving with a friend and was hit broadside at an intersection by a young man who ran a red light. She had blackened eyes and hit her head pretty badly but didn't go to the hospital. Her family finally convinced her to go to the ER to get stitches and have her wound cleaned. It seemed like she was going to be fine, but the delicate state of her liver proved otherwise.

February 2010

I get a message from Daria's sister that Daria has been put into intensive care. Apparently her liver was damaged in the car accident and was shutting down. Daria was not expected to survive more than 30 days. Daria was still in denial about it.

Daria was put on the liver transplant list and sent home to wait for a liver. Seeing her was terrifying. Her stomach was bloated to 3 times its normal size and her color was orange-yellow. She couldn't eat much so we took turns going over to her house to bring her food and help her. 

March 2010

Daria was re-admitted into the hospital. She was bleeding in her esophagus and underwent surgery to stop the bleeding. We were told that she would not make it through the night on March 13. I was in town already for one of my daughter's concerts so my husband just dropped me at the hospital to sit in vigil. Surprisingly, she survived that night, but the end was near.

My sister, Karen,  came to see Daria and did not recognize her. There is nothing to prepare you for the sight of someone dying of liver failure even if it is described to you. Their eyes take on a bright yellow color that outshines a highlighter yellow. It appears that if you shut off the lights, you could still see those horrible eyes. They no longer look human. Their stomach is hugely bloated, almost as if they are pregnant, and their limbs are emaciated. Their face shape is distorted because at this point, their kidneys are also failing so they are puffy. The color of the skin is also more of an orange-yellow than anything you would subscribe as a normal skin color.

As expected, Daria died on March 23, 2010, just two weeks before her 49^th birthday. In the end it was a mercy. For reasons I cannot understand she was completely unable to fight the alcoholism. No amount of praying or tough love made any difference at all. We had one more year after her being jailed so it was one more than we expected. 

She has left a huge hole in the life of her son. He will not remember his mother, but maybe that is better because of what the alcohol had done to her. We can recount to him the best parts of her. That she loved him even though she was very ill. She was a wonderful cook and entertainer. She loved people. All of that but she still didn't love us enough to stop, so my only conclusion was she couldn't. It is hard to believe it was a couldn't versus a wouldn't. But that is the only way I can work myself into forgiveness. She had all the help anyone could require. She just wasn't able to choose sobriety. I don't know why.  

As to those of us left behind we all struggle with anger as well as sorrow. I cannot fathom why she couldn't love her son enough to stop drinking when she was pregnant. She wanted a baby so badly, what could possibly make her drink throughout her pregnancy? She was a pharmaceutical representative so who knew better the effects of drugs and alcohol on a fetus? When she was in treatment for months and months, why couldn't she decide to stay sober? Why give up after just a couple of days after leaving treatment? Did she want to kill herself because of guilt over her son? I don't know. Couldn't she love us enough to stop? She adored her dog, why couldn't she stop for him? 

She turned from a wonderful person to a lying manipulator who didn't care about anyone else before she died. My sister Karen summed it up  “I think we're here only out of pity at this point. She hasn't been a friend to us for a long time. She has lied to us, thrown us out of her house, cursed and screamed at us when we were trying to help. She is no friend.” I think the only way I can reconcile this is that at the end, we were no longer talking to our friend that we loved so dearly. We were talking to a disease. A disease that had completely taken over our friend to the point where we couldn't find her in there anywhere.

The only good part is that everyone who loved her has a clean conscience. We all tried to help her. We all tried to save her. Her husband did everything in his power to get her the appropriate treatment. He lived with her as long as he could stand it. He still tried to allow her into their son's life even when she proved to be very unstable and undeserving of any such consideration. Her sister and father tried to talk sense to her, and offered whatever support that they could. All of the friends who lasted to the end did everything that they could to try and help her. There was no avenue that had not been tried to assist her. None of it worked because in the end she would not or could not choose sobriety. 

 I appreciate that Laura has shared this story.  I don't think that there is anything that families can do for  those who refuse to help themselves by reaching out and desiring to get sober.  No one has to go it alone with alcoholism. There are recovery groups for the families and for the alcoholics. 

I truly believe that learning to detach with love is one of the most important lessons in Al-Anon.  There are so many sad stories like this that I hear at meetings. Eventually though, family members who get a sponsor and work the steps find that it is possible to cope with a loved one's alcoholism.  Tears are replaced with laughter and anger replaced with compassion.  Find a meeting, make a start at recovery and keep going back. It does work.

Cunning, baffling and powerful Part 2

Here is more of what Laura R. wrote about her friend's alcoholism:

2000-2001 – Daria fell in love with  Don, a doctor that she had met through her work. She arranged for a wedding in Hawaii because she had grown up there. She found out she was pregnant before the wedding and was ecstatic.

Mike was born in November of 2001. He was a beautiful baby and she adored him. She just wanted to be a full time Mom and it seemed perfect. My nephew is a month apart in age and we noticed from the start that Mike wasn't relating to people quite as well as my nephew. He did not look us in the eyes and would avoid the normal contact of people cooing to him. We found out later that she had been drinking throughout her pregnancy. Mike ultimately ended up having autism.  Daria's sister confirmed that Mike has fetal alcohol syndrome which he will carry for the rest of his life. His wonderful father, who adores him, will need to make provisions for Mike for the rest of his life because this innocent baby was saddled with an avoidable disability.

Fall 2005 - Don told us that Daria was going into treatment for alcoholism at a rehab center and that she would do it as an in-patient. She was there for a couple of months. She said that they had done some blood work on her and her liver was failing from the alcohol so she needed to seek treatment. Fortunately, Don's niece Maria lived with them and helped out significantly with Mike.

One strange symptom that appeared around this time was her obsession with her step daughter. Everything that had gone wrong in her marriage was Alice's fault. Any teenager can be difficult, especially with step-parents, but how could a child cause every problem ever conceived. We all tried to talk sense to her, but she could not get past her obsession.

Spring 2006 – We caught our oldest son (16 years old) drinking and were furious with him. Daria was his confirmation sponsor and offered to talk to him about alcohol. She told him she started drinking heavily at his age so he needed to stop and think about what he was doing. 

The bizarre part was two days later she called me in hysterics and said she needed to speak with Alex. She said that he had betrayed her because her step-daughter Alice made a comment about Daria being an alcoholic. Alex swore he didn't say anything, and quite frankly I believe him. Alice would have to be blind and stupid not to notice that her step-mom was an alcoholic. The fact that Daria believed that Alice had missed the drunken rages at home was fairly ridiculous.

Fall 2006 – Daria was put into a treatment program again but this time for almost a full year. She didn't make it a week out of treatment the last time and so needed long term help. We wrote to her while she was there and she insisted she was really going to try and fix it with all the hard work she was doing at the center. We found out later that again within a week or two out of treatment she was back drinking.

May 2008 - I had a profound conversion experience in my Catholic life, and during this time I had a disturbing event with Daria. I had a business meeting and as I was driving home, I thought I would stop at the church to pray.  I walked inside the church, knelt down and began to pray. Almost as soon as I bowed my head, I had a very strong urge to call Daria. I promised that I would call her as soon as I was done praying. I got the urge again and I repeated my promise that as soon as I was done praying I would call her. Then I got a strong impression that “delayed obedience is no obedience at all”, so I stopped praying and left the church. 

I called Daria at home but there was no answer. I decided to go home and wait by the phone. Strangely enough, my youngest daughter had a tooth crack and we had an appointment with the dentist to pull the tooth. It was scheduled that day. Fortunately, before Daria called back the dentist called because an earlier appointment had opened up for my daughter. 


Daria called back right after that call. We started by talking about general things and then I told her what was bothering me. I told her that God knew her suffering and that he loved her and no matter what happened he would still love her. I told her how beautiful she was inside and out and that she did not have to live the way she was living. She started crying and saying that she no longer wanted to live that way and could I please come over. I told her that as soon as Anastasia had her tooth pulled we'd come straight up to her house. 

If I had realized what I would find when we arrived, I would never have taken poor Anastasia. When we arrived at the house Daria was staggering drunk and weeping. I tried to talk to her, but she ended up in my arms on the floor of the house talking about taking care of her son after she was gone. Her talk was suicidal so I called my sister Patricia who is a nurse to find out what to do. She told me I was to call an ambulance immediately because it wasn't safe to try to transport Daria to the hospital. So I called 911 and an ambulance was there quickly. Daria was admitted for observation and treatment. I had great hopes that she would come back sober,  but it was not to be. Looking back, I'm glad I was naïve because a sliver of hope helped all of us continue to try and help her.

She was admitted to a psychiatric hospital near our home and I remember visiting her there on Mother's day. Her husband visited as well with Mike and everyone tried to put a good face on it.

The last segment will be posted tomorrow.

Cunning, baffling and powerful

Laura R. sent me an email and wanted to share her experience with the loss of a dear friend who died from alcoholism.  I have known quite a few people who have died from alcoholism, including my father's sister and her daughter.  I thought that I would post this in several segments.  I did some editing of this but the gist of what Laura wrote is here:

I'm not usually a writer, but I hope that by writing my memories of my dear friend's battle with alcoholism, it might give others an understanding of the seriousness of the disease and that even with the best treatment and prayer support, the alcoholic may not be able to fight off the disease. If this happens, it runs its inevitable and horrible course. Although in her deepest heart, she was a lovely person, she has left behind destruction and pain for her family and friends. 

My prayer is that someone will read this and think, “that could be me” and stop their destructive behavior. The pain left by the progression of alcoholism is severe. The people hurt both physically and emotionally is tremendous. I do believe that alcoholism is a disease, but unlike cancer or other illnesses, it can be managed by a choice. Not an easy choice if you are predisposed to addiction, but in the end, a choice. Please make that choice. For your family, for your friends, for anyone or anything that you love, make that choice.

I have changed all the names here because I would not want her family to be pained in any fashion with my recounting of this sad story. They have suffered enough over the years without me contributing to their anguish.

Good beginnings

I distinctly remember meeting Daria in the summer of 1991.  A good friend of ours, Carl, had met her at a college reunion event. It turned out that she was moving to Maryland and so was very happy to meet someone who could show her around the area. Carl had a crush on her because she was so lively and beautiful so he offered to help her out.  She came over to my house where my first husband and I lived and I remember being so impressed with her. She seemed to be everything I am not. She was very outgoing, tall and slender with reddish hair. You couldn't help but like her immediately. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. She cooked for us during the first few times we met and was an absolutely amazing cook. She could make anything taste like a gourmet dinner.  I had no idea at the time she would become like a third sister to me and the rest of my family.

Flash ahead a couple of years and my first marriage fell apart. My parents were living in Australia and my oldest sister had been living in their house. She and my brother in law wanted to buy a house next door to my parents so it was fortuitous that I needed a place to live and my parent's house was available. Daria also needed a place to stay so it was decided that she would move into the house with me and my son. 

I may have been an innocent but even after thinking about it, I had no idea she had a drinking problem even though we were living in the same house. I'm not suspicious by nature, and our schedules were quite different so wherever she hid the alcohol, I never found any. We would have social events where everyone drank, but I can't say I ever noticed that she drank more than everyone else or was staggering drunk. 

She was working as a pharmaceutical representative and took many classes and exams to make sure she was qualified. She seemed extremely good at her job and I thought everything was going well with her. She had a parade of boyfriends because she was so beautiful and outgoing but none were very serious until Sam.

Daria met Sam and they seemed well suited to each other. He was outgoing and  fun to be around. He had a beautiful daughter named Katie. Daria and Sam were both athletic and enjoyed biking. Sam and Daria moved in together and seemed fine. The only odd thing that happened in that period was that Daria was cited for child abandonment because she left Katie in the house to go running and Katie called her mother. Daria thought it was ridiculous that she got a citation for that, but I personally thought it was odd to leave a young child alone without supervision. Other than that, they seemed fine, but eventually broke it off. 

This was when Daria began to tell us how much she just wanted to settle down and have children. She was a natural nurturer so we were all sure that she would make a wonderful mother as soon as she found a husband. You could see the longing in her eyes when she saw other people with babies and we believed it was just a matter of time until she found someone with whom to build a family.

Winter 1995

My husband and I were newly married and had been invited to go out to Park City, Utah with Daria to visit with her father and his wife. Daria's mother had died years before when she was a young adult. Her mother died of breast cancer, but from Daria's recounting of her death, her mother suffered from manic depression and had been mentally ill for quite a large part of Daria's life. It was very sad, and although Daria could talk about parts of it with humor, the deeply painful loss of her mother was a constant reality.  Fortunately, Daria really liked her step mother, Carol, and was very happy that we were going to see her father. 

This was the first time I had an inkling that something could be wrong. Whenever she talked to her father, she talked like a young child instead of an adult. Her entire body language would change and she related to him in a very odd way. 

I brought up to her step mom that Daria was very different out in Utah than she was at home. She was confident and mature in Maryland, but on this trip she behaved differently. Her step mom asked if I noticed Daria had a drinking problem. I was floored. I said I hadn't noticed at all. Her step mom said they were worried because they noticed that she had liquor in her coffee cup and that she was relating to her father in a very odd fashion. She had visited them some months earlier and actually baby talked when she would talk to her father. I was a bit alarmed, but believed because she functioned so well in Maryland, that she would get through it.

I will post the next part of Laura's story tomorrow.  

Decorating

We pulled out our fall decorations today and proceeded to decorate the mantles, put some jack o'lanterns about, and add swags of fall leaves to corner cabinets and doorways.  Both of us had a good time, but C. was especially pleased with getting in the fall spirit.  I'm posting a few photos of our efforts. 

Fall bouquet complete with large black spider

One of the jack o'lanterns that we have lit. 

Another group of fun fall stuff on a table in one of the halls

My favorite thing--a rolling eyeball that lights up!

Sparkly purple lights on the mantle in the master bedroom

We also made a couple of cakes.  The one below is a scary pumpkin cake that yours truly decorated. Okay, this was my first time using a pastry bag which definitely in and of itself is a creepy contraption to use.  I thought that the blue bats, spiders and webs was a nice touch.  C. wasn't so sure about my cake decorating abilities.  At least I managed to keep most of the icing on the cake.  Squeezing that pastry bag too hard could definitely have had less than desirable consequences.

Scary ghoul pumpkin cake

We made three of these cakes, each one decorated a little differently.  I took one to a meeting tonight where a sponsee shared his story.  It was his one year anniversary in Al-Anon.  I am glad that he persevered to get through the 12 steps and was willing to share his experience, strength and hope.  He asked what to do with the medallion that was tucked in the card.  I said that I carry mine in my wallet as a reminder of what the program means.  It was a fun day and a good evening. 

It's hard to believe that today is the last day of September.  And some cooler weather is finally coming our way.  I am content with so much today.  I am very grateful.

Who I Am

Annette asked me in a comment on this blog, "Who are you?". At first I was wondering why she would ask this. Why would this matter? I had to smile when she mused that I might be a famous writer. Thanks Annette--I wish!

When I started this blog, my intent was to remain anonymous. I have gradually revealed more about myself than intended, but that is what happens with writing. Eventually, with nearly 1000 posts, the essence of the person comes out. But through my writing and all of you with whom I connect, I found myself engrossed in a way that was very personal. At the same time, I haven't wanted to know more than what you yourself choose to reveal.

I listen to personal stories at meetings. I remember that my first story told at a meeting was raw. And it was met with skepticism and some scorn. This hurt but made me realize that there are places and people with whom to be totally honest, and there are other people and places where it is safer to hold back. I believe that a blog that is read by many and is wide open to the world is a good place to practice the principles of anonymity and restraint.

I am most grateful to read all that each of you share. Your writings are filled with hope, inspiration, and courage. For many of us, writing is cathartic. It is a way for me to tell my story about what the program of Al-Anon has meant to me. Many times, I think that it isn't really important who the messenger is; instead, it is the message that is most important.

I do my thing and you do yours. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, then it is beautiful. If not, it can't be helped. Gestalt prayer

God is busy

Thanks for all of your great comments yesterday. Some of you had asked previous to that post about what were the circumstances that brought me to Al-Anon. It was really a life time of living with alcoholism but the defining moment of surrender occurred as written in yesterday's post.

I had been expecting something from someone who had nothing to give at that time and hadn't for some years. I could remember thinking how much I wanted to turn back the clock, start over, and have a clean slate. I felt as if I had spent years trying to understand the relationship between us. Some days things would be great while at other times they would be beyond horrible. Such is life with alcoholism.

It was time for me to let go of her and to let myself live. I know now that I didn't stop loving her, but I had to change my behavior in the relationship. And through this great program, the grace of God and the steps, I was able to stop trying to make her into someone she wasn't and to release her to be who she is.

By taking my hands off the situation and giving consideration to my own needs, a major change occurred. I was given a chance at a new life and freedom of spirit.

And today I get to give some of what was so freely given to me back. I'm telling my story at a meeting this afternoon and am hearing a fifth step with a sponsee this evening. He wanted to do the fifth step at the beach. So I've got some lanterns, a cooler of sandwiches and soft drinks, a blanket to sit on, the Big Book of AA, and a vista that whispers God is all around. I am honored and filled with wonder to be where I am today. God is truly busy with me today.

Keep coming back?

I was reading Mary Christine's blog entry "But what if you were a newcomer?" It's a great post about what each of us takes away from a meeting. And that people hear things differently. She told her story at a meeting and was greeted with a lot of praise afterwards. I like what she said about not liking the praise because it isn't about accolades or how great a public speaker a person is. For me it's about sharing my experience, strength and hope from the heart.

I have told my story several times at various meetings. And I've been asked to tell it at two open AA meetings. Each time has been different. And each time I've talked more about recovery.

I felt very awkward the first time that I told it at an Al-Anon meeting. It was my first anniversary. I was finding that this group, where I had first come to a meeting, was mostly filled with over 20 sponsees of one person. I wasn't one of the sponsees.

My sponsor thought that it would be good for me to share my story at this meeting. Call it karma or my gut feeling, but I really didn't want to share my story there. I had seen evidence of personalities dominating over principles and felt uncomfortable. But I decided to put my feelings aside and do what I've done for much of my life--please others.

The story I shared still had a lot of pain in it. I hadn't finished with the steps. And at the end I shared something that I thought summarized what I was working toward.

I caught some eye rolls between the "leader" and others. I was asked to provide the summary part in writing. I later heard that the "leader" said that what I talked about came from the Big Book.

All of this was painful. And yet it strengthened my resolve to work the program. It made me more aware of Traditions Two and Twelve. And it made me see something in me that didn't like criticism, control or surrender.

I think at that point though, I made a decision to go to other meetings. I went back a few more months but eventually stopped going to that meeting all together. I see people from that meeting, and they are glad to see me and ask me to come back. Maybe I will go again some time.

The message here though is that if you are a newcomer (or someone with any amount of time) and you aren't comfortable about a meeting, try others. It's not a reason to give up on the program if you don't like the meeting. I'm glad that I kept going to meetings, worked on what I was feeling, made a decision to look at my character defects, and learned to appreciate every story that I hear.

Whew...

I told my story last night and greatly enjoyed it. My focus this time was on the 12 steps and what they have meant for me in recovery. I did provide biographical information as well but have found that focusing on my pain and suffering isn't what I want to talk about. Instead I want to talk about what happened to me to bring me to Al-Anon and how I've worked on my recovery.

I was happy that my sponsor was there. And I know that I wouldn't have gotten where I am today without such a compassionate and knowledgeable person. I am grateful, very grateful:

• That I have had the benefit of what this program offers and have been willing to accept being taught
• That I trusted what I saw at meetings and what my sponsor told me
• That I won't "graduate" from Al-Anon but have made a commitment to it as a way of living
• That I will always be a work in progress
• That I know myself better than before I started this program
  

"We are like many-faceted gemstones. Each side represents a different aspect of us. We have our emotional sides with different feelings and responses. We have our competencies and strengths, hopes and desires, destructiveness and negativity, self-doubts and resentments. We also possess a drive for power and knowledge, a desire to serve, and a wish to connect with others.

We need a working relationship with our thoughts and feelings so they can be appreciated, accepted, and understood. When we tell our story in a meeting, we let others know us, and we get to know ourselves better. When we are spontaneous in what we say or do, we communicate with ourselves. " From Touchstones

Telling my story

I'm going to tell my story at a meeting tonight. I don't think that it's a particular dramatic story. And maybe because of that, people will be able to identify with it. It's pretty much your run of the mill story of a person who has been affected by alcoholism for an entire life. I decided this time to focus more on the process of recovery through the steps. That to me is the real "meat and potatoes" of the program.

One of the interesting things that I ran across in my reading is a list of the primary characteristics of adult children of alcoholics. I found that I could identify with many of these:

• Guessing at what normal behavior is--I never really knew what normal was, other than what I surmised from books.
  
• Having difficulty following a project through from beginning to end--never had trouble with this.
  
• Lying when it would be just as easy to tell the truth--not something that I did chronically
  
• Judging themselves without mercy--oh yes...
  
• Having difficulty having fun--I did have fun but also restricted the fun that I would have.
  
• Taking themselves very seriously--definitely
• Having difficulty with intimate relationships--sometimes
• Overreacting to changes over which they have no control--I never liked changes
  
• Constantly seeking approval and affirmation--definitely
• Usually feeling that they are different from other people--all my life
  
• Extreme responsibility or irresponsibility--mostly responsible to a fault
  
• Extreme loyalty, even in the face of evidence that the loyalty is undeserved--definitely
• Impulsivity - tending to lock themselves into a course of action without giving serious consideration to alternative behaviors or possible consequences. This impulsivity leads to confusion, self-loathing and loss of control over their environment. In addition, they spend an excessive amount of energy cleaning up the mess--I've been known to be impulsive at times.
  

From going back over my past, I can see that many of these characteristics were acquired during childhood. And add to that a long-term marriage to an alcoholic, it isn't hard to see how unmanageable my life was. It's now comforting to see as I think about my story just how far I've come. There's still a ways to go, but every day is a new opportunity to practice what I've learned.

The six word story of life

I read in the local paper how the online magazine Smith asked readers to write the story of their own lives in a single sentence. The result is Not Quite What I Was Planning, a collection of six-word memoirs by famous and not-so-famous writers, artists and musicians.

Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words:"For sale: baby shoes, never worn.". Here are some other gems:

I came. I saw. I blundered
- Scott Ferrard

After Harvard, had baby with crackhead.
- Robin Templeton

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
- Margaret Atwood

We kissed. She melted. Mop please!
- James Patrick Kelly

Don’t marry her. Buy a house.

- Stephen R. Donaldson

Thought I was right. I wasn't.

- Graeme Gibson

And here are others from the local area

- "Quarter century. This can't be it."

-- "Progress slow with foot in mouth."

-- "Never thought I'd love this much."

-- "I make a living questioning authority."

-- "Oops! I forgot to have children."

-- "Oops! I had children. I forgot."

-- "Too much planning, not enough execution."

-- "Aimed for stars, only reached treetops."

-- "The last of too many children."

-- "I never learned from last time."

-- "Had my fun, then got married."

I think that my six word life story might be:

"Loved, lost, gave up, then found"

In the spirit of brevity, How about sharing yours?

Making a run

We are heading back down to deep water off Miami. It's a long run, giving me lots of time to read and reflect. I'm thinking about what I'm going to do when I get my MMD card as an ordinary seaman. I watched the large cargo ships move in and out of Savannah's port, wondering where they are going and what they are carrying. It's easy to get the wanderlust just thinking about that. But it's a different thing to carry it out and give up on a home life and all that it has to offer.

I am missing home a little today. It seems to happen when I'm bored from lack of activity. So far, we've just been running south and won't be doing much in the way of data collection until later tonight. I really like physical work when I'm on ship. It keeps me from thinking too much about the things and people that I miss.

It's easy to leave everything behind out here. The "geographic" change is a pleasant one but my mind also goes to all the things that I'll have to catch up on when I next get back to work on land. I've also got to start thinking more about my first anniversary in Al-Anon. How do I put the story together? I'd like to start at where I am now and then go back to where I was a year ago and the events that got me to both places. I don't necessarily want this to be a linear story. I want it to have the dimensions that portray all the complexity and also humor. I don't like continuous sob stories or the "poor me" saga. Looking back on things, there is a lot of room for humor and there are a lot of happy times that occurred. Not everything has been bad.

I was wondering how you told your story. I don't want to read from a sheet of paper. Just have it come straight from my heart. It's the only way that I know how to do anything.

Another anniversary

I went to my home group's meeting tonight and heard the story of one of the group members on her 8th anniversary. For some reason, this group calls it a Birthday which is a bit confusing to me as I think that anniversary comes closer to what I think of. I'm not sure whether Birthday is the common name in Al-Anon or not. There is always a card that is passed around for people to sign and the card talks about the birthday. I always forget that this isn't a true life birthday but one related to recovery and rebirth.

Anyway, the story told was very touching, and there weren't many people there who were dry-eyed. This lady has had a difficult time and has been let down by a lot of people. Mainly though she let herself down (as we have all done) by accepting the behavior of the alcoholic that wasn't acceptable. I really felt for her as she described those occasions that were special to her that the alcoholic ruined by not showing up or arriving drunk and too late. She said that she hates the disease and so do I. It is a terrible disease and life would be so much better without ever having to deal with all the emotional upheaval that alcoholism brings.

After her story, her sponsor stated in her matter of fact way that she was proud of the honesty and sincerity with which her story was told. I know that it must have been very hard for the lady to talk about some of the things that she did. For some reason though, I think that it took away from her story to be told by the sponsor tha she was being honest. I think that the group felt the honesty and didn't need to hear any endorsement of it. I think with so much emotion going into sharing such intimate thoughts with the group, there really isn't much that needs to be said other than thanks. Anything else just seems to be grandstanding.