You touch my life

I have once again been busy and have neglected this blog.  I feel as if I am repetitive because I am doing the same things that I have been doing for quite some time: going on the boat, working out, gardening, riding my horse, going to meetings, and generally having a wonderful life with my wife.

But I am often think of you out there who are writing and sharing. You have touched my life in many ways.  I just learned that fellow blogger, Cheryl H., over at Through an Al-Anon Filter died on April 22.  I started reading Cheryl's blog when she first began blogging.  Her death reminded me of how connected we are to each other.  Although we haven't met in person, we get to know each other through our writings and the special sharing that we have.  I know that those of you who read this blog know more about me than many people that I know in person.  That is an amazing thing to contemplate.  And when one of us dies, I feel a great sense of loss.  And when others stop writing without explanation, I wonder how they are and what they are doing.

I can tell you that life for me is good.  Spring has come to the Lowcountry.  The garden and grounds are beautiful with flowers and shrubs.  We have brought in lettuce and radishes for salads.  The pasture is amazing with buttercups.  So much beauty surrounds me.

And the weather has begun to cooperate for going on the boat.  I just returned from three days of being at the island anchorage.  I come back refreshed and ready to tackle what ever comes my way.  

My horse is a source of much joy.  My wife feeds him carrots and apples.  He has a birthday this week, and we are having a little party in his honor with an actual cake that the horses can eat.  There will be one for humans too.  

I do attribute much of what I feel to having been in Al-Anon.  It has helped me to lighten up, let go of trying to control others, and find joy in life.   My changed attitude is a result of recovery.  It is hard for me to remember how I was before being in Al-Anon.  But this blog documents the journey.  Thank you for being along with me for the ride. 

What makes sense

As I have mentioned before, I live on an island that is rural. No stop lights and only a couple of juke joints/stores.  But I live close enough to the city and suburbia to feel connected to what goes on.  The recent killing of an unarmed man by a police man made national headlines and has created a lot of discussion locally.

I am glad that the actions by the mayor and police chief were swift and averted riots and other civil unrest.  But the basic fact that lethal force was used is chilling.  I am no fan of the police.  I respect that they have a job to do, but I have seen too much of their abuse of power in my life.  I have not been arrested. I have been stopped once for an expired inspection sticker, so I have nothing of a personal nature that generates the fear. But I have images in my head from TV coverage of the Vietnam war protests of the 60's and the brutality of the police during desegregation marches.  Large men with guns and clubs and an attitude don't make me feel comfortable.

I know how tense racial relations are in the deep South and in this state particularly.  The island that I live on is 80% black.  And I feel comfortable with that because I know many of the families, and they are good people.  I wonder at their fear and anxiety. Is it similar to mine? A lot of racial tension is still here. We do our best to cover it up and pretend otherwise. Politeness abounds at the surface.  But racism remains like a scab over a deep rotting wound.  The only thing that makes sense to me is the sound of the waves breaking on the beach; the sound of the frogs in the wetland near the house; the breath of my horse as he nuzzles me; the concert of birdsong that exploded as the sun rose over the ocean; and the love for others bending and drowning out everything else.

Taking time to breathe

Time has slipped away from me once again in a string of days.  I am having the time of my life.  Not being in a demanding job has freed me up in a lot of ways. I'm no longer scheduled in my life.  Blogging used to be on a schedule of a daily write.  I don't feel the need to do that anymore.  And I don't feel guilty. Well....maybe a little because I wonder what each of you is doing and if you are okay. 

My hobbies of sailing and riding and working out at the gym keep me physically fit and sane.  My service in Al-Anon keeps me spiritually fit in a compassionate and humble way.  And I have the usual life stuff to do like car maintenance, yard work, gardening, house chores--I hate calling them honey do's because I live here and share the house with an amazing person so I am glad to do my part in our partnership.  

I love everything I do, but I also need time to not do anything and just be. The boat is my best escape for that.  No people around--just me, the waves and the wind. If I don't get that time to myself, then I can feel the gypsy soul take over. I need the recharge time to be the free spirit that I now embrace.  

Having been a driven scientist for decades, I hardly know that person now.  Who was that guy? He thought that what he was working on was the most important thing.  He had to publish a certain number of papers every year and get multiple grants.  He had to do a lot of administrative BS that felt like sheer drudgery. He sat in an office overlooking a beautiful harbor and hardly ever looked out the window.  Most every day, he was tied to the computer, analyzing data and writing.  It was hard to shake off the harness and simply be free. Add to that the stress of living with an alcoholic, and life was not a lot of fun.  

I now take time to breathe.  I have space in my life now.  I make the space and the time to do what I feel is good for my mental and spiritual health.  I don't know how long I will have the stamina to keep sailing, riding, and cross train. I am hoping that I have at least 20 good years left.  But I don't know about any of that.  I just have this day that's ahead of me.  And it seems good and filled with promise.  

I hope that you have some breathing room in your life.  Some time to just be and refuel your purpose and your spirit. 

Gossip

I was floating on a pink cloud being at the barn where I ride my horse.  That is until I found myself surrounded by a whole gaggle of 20'ish females and some 40'ish females who love to gossip.  They gossip about each other, about the barn owner, and about the trainer who says that she knows everything that happens there.  And I am sure that they gossip about me since I am the only male that rides on a regular basis there.

I've never liked gossip.  I can recall my mother and her friends talking on the phone, going on and on about other women.  I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now.  I don't find people so fascinating that I want to think or talk about them for hours.  I suppose that if one would examine motives, it's all about tearing down others.  And that has to have something to do with ego.

I understand why gossip is considered one of the obstacles to success in recovery in Al-Anon.  Here is what we read at meetings about it: We meet to help ourselves and others learn and use the Al‑Anon philosophy. In such groups, gossip can have no part. We do not discuss members or others, and particularly not the alcoholic. Our dedication to anonymity gives people confidence in Al‑Anon. Careless repeating of matters heard at meetings can defeat the very purposes for which we are joined together.

Not gossiping means to me that there is a safe place in the rooms of recovery where I can share without fear of having it repeated.  I have become more cautious though at meetings because I realize that not everyone recognizes how destructive gossip can be.  Breaking a person's anonymity through gossip can have severe consequences for their business, family, and general well being. And it can damage the harmony of a group.

As far as being at the barn, I know that the less I say, the better off I am.  I go about my business of riding; however, it is a little more difficult now when I realize that the shortcomings of a few people have tarnished the experience a bit. I keep in mind the words of a fellow I know in recovery: "Never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut" seems particularly apropos in so many situations.

My horse has had an abscess in his hoof.  I have been treating it with soaks in Epsom salts and slathering some nasty drawing salve called Ichthymol ointment on the bottom of his hoof.  Fortunately, it is getting much better and should be healed up in time for his showing debut at the end of the month.  The abscess seems to have come from bacteria entering the hoof as a result of so much rain and the pastures draining poorly.

Here is the boy keeping an eye on me.  We keep an eye on each other, but he is constantly looking for an apple or carrots!

If I had a pony

The leaves are falling from the trees here with the last bits of bright color from the gums and maples.  The weather has been unusually warm for the past week. It has actually been really beautiful to be outside and to ride on the farm with all the trees ablaze.

I spent a few days in north Florida at a horse breeding farm. I rode many times a day, trying out different horses.  Ultimately, I chose an older dressage schoolmaster who was imported to the US several years ago.  I had a pre-sale veterinary check done on him, and he received a glowing report. So I am wiring the money tomorrow, and he will arrive sometime this week to his new home here with us.

After making the decision to get him, I struggled for several hours with the feeling that I don't deserve to have him. I felt a bit of panic and anxiety over the responsibility and the idea that I am being frivolous in spending quite a bit of money on a horse.

These feelings aren't new.  I have struggled for many years with the idea that I am not deserving of "things".  My parents made sure that I knew how much things cost and how I was to take care of what I had because something would not be replaced if I broke it.  They bought me cars and a horse, nice clothes, paid for college--yet, I had the feeling that I needed to realize how lucky I was.  And I did feel lucky and grateful but not deserving.

I don't think these feelings are unusual for someone growing up around heavy drinkers or alcoholics.  The low self-esteem generates feelings of not being good enough, not being worthy.  The interesting thing for me is that I didn't feel this way when I got my sailboats.  But purchasing a horse seems to make me wonder if I am not thrusting myself into a world where snobby people stand around and sip on fancy drinks and talk about the latest hunt club gossip.  That makes me anxious because I don't like gossip or fake people.

I realize that I am building up a lot of this in my head.  We have the money to have a horse and maintain him.  I enjoy riding and live in an area where there are lots of trails and horse farms.  The dressage barn is within walking distance of our place. I know the logical answers to my fears.  Yet, I still alternate between being excited and having anxiety over having something I want that seems not necessary, not critical to my survival.

I am sure that when he arrives this week, my feelings will be those of excitement. My wife is happy and excited.  I talk to her about my anxiety and she tells me that I have not gotten over missing a horse for many years. Now things have come full circle, and the time is now to have another. She loves the idea of my getting him and being able to visit him to groom and feed with carrots.

Funny how the mind reruns the old tapes of "you're not good enough" when there needs to be joy instead.   Anyway, here he is.  He will be here soon. His call name is Star (His registered name is something long and difficult to pronounce). Hopefully, there will be years of adventures together.  I don't think he will fit on my boat. But the song of Lyle Lovett comes to mind:

If I had a boat

I'd go out on the ocean

And if I had a pony

I'd ride him on my boat

And we could all together

Go out on the ocean

Me upon my pony on my boat

Keeping the focus on myself

I have had some good meetings lately with one of the fellows I sponsor.  He is learning how to get his life back after spending years focusing on his son who is an alcoholic and addict. I think that learning to focus on what I am doing and not on the alcoholic was a major turning point for me in my own journey of recovery.

I was told many years ago by a psychiatrist to focus on me and not on my wife. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. It sounded selfish to focus on me, and I didn't understand how to put it into practice so I ignored the idea. Then, in Al-Anon, it finally came together for me. I understood that I didn't have much of a life because I was focusing every molecule of effort and attention on my wife.

It took me a while to see that focusing on me wasn't selfish. Instead,  it was about my being my own person and my chance at getting my life back. If I don't focus on me, then I too easily lose myself in others. I make them my HP. I also will not address what bothers me or my character defects if I put the focus on someone else.

Our relationship has had many ups and downs over the years, but I have to say that since being in recovery, both of us have come to love each other more than ever. And I am not the angry, resentful, fearful and sad person that I used to be. By taking my own inventory--looking at what my part is--I learned that I was filled with resentment and fear. Now I inventory what I am feeling daily. It is second nature to look at my part. And then I can take appropriate actions to remedy what I have done.

One of the things that the fellow I sponsor is trying to do is have fun.  He has had a lot of trouble extricating himself from the drama surrounding his alcoholic son.  He actually has a hard time thinking of anything positive about himself and can't seem to grasp the concept of doing something fun for himself.

I remember so well that when I was stuck in my misery before recovery that I hated for anyone to ask me what I did for fun.  I would hesitate, feel uncomfortable and generally answer by saying that I liked cycling, running, reading, photography, and gardening. But mostly, I liked to work. The other things that I did were my way of escaping from home and work.  I think some of my happiest times were actually when I was at sea on research vessels and away from home and the lab. 

It feels good today to be able to answer enthusiastically about the things that I like to do.  I finally found more balance in my life where the focus is on what I want to do and not what I have to do.

I am focusing on me when I take time in the morning to have coffee sitting out in the yard and relax instead of going through a mental checklist of what I must get done.  I am focusing on me when I decline to be on boards and committees out of a sense of obligation.  I am focusing on me when I go on the boat for a few days to smell the ocean and listen to the waves and wind. I am focusing on me when I can go to the barn and brush the horses, listening to them breathe or eat hay. 

I know now that my wife and I are individuals and not bound to spend every waking moment together.  We worked together in graduate school and at the same laboratory. We love each other a lot.  But I know that I am not responsible for her happiness.  It's not up to me to solve every problem that she has or to tell her what to do.  

So, if you are thinking that you don't have much of a life because of alcoholism being so prevalent in it, maybe it's time to focus on creating your own bliss and focusing on what you want to do.  Don't put your life on hold waiting for the alcoholic/addict to come around. They either will or they won't. What matters is that each day can be special for you, if you choose to make it so.

Gardening time and giving back

It has been a beautiful Sunday here--bright blue skies, low humidity and warm temperatures.  Neither of us felt like doing much yesterday when it was overcast and blustery.  But today, we broke out the tiller, hoes, and rakes and got most of the garden ready for planting.

The garden--a lot of work!

Some good earth with compost added ready for planting. 

Strawberry plants with some ripening berries. 

Raggamuffin, the kitty, checking out what's happening in the garden. He follows me around like a dog. 

The strawberries are ripening, and a few other plants are in the ground. I'm glad that we held off on getting everything planted because the cold snap a few weeks ago would most likely have killed off some of the tender plants.  Today, Ragamuffin, one of our cats, decided to sneak outside and help out in the garden. He stays very close and watches everything that goes on.

We are having a 21st birthday party for a member of the fellowship next week. This young lady has worked the steps, is doing service work, and is a great example of Al-Anon.  Some of you know her story because you donated to her college fund. The great news is that she has aced her entrance exams and will be starting school in early June.  She doesn't currently have enough money to pay for a semester so she will be taking classes while she works.  She is determined to be the first from her family to have a professional career. I think that those who know her understand her determination to succeed.

I have heard it stated over and over in Al-Anon that the groups and people need to be self-supporting through their own contributions (Tradition Seven).  I know that this came about so that groups wouldn't ask for outside contributions and that alcoholics would not be enabled through family and friends giving them money. What if someone is really deserving and needs a little help?  I see no problem with helping someone out who is in need.  And I don't expect to be repaid. I have a philosophy about money that it is to be used for comfortable living and if one has enough, then it is to be shared to help others.  Philanthropy is a great thing, because even small amounts can help others.

I know people who hoard their money, keeping account of every dime. Most of these people are elderly and quite a few are millionaires.  I imagine they are hoarding to give to their children because they don't appear to be spending it on themselves. Somehow I like the old bumper sticker that said "I'm spending my children's inheritance."

I remember how my parents saved their money. I learned from them to be cautious about spending. I didn't worship money but had concerns about how to pay bills and to be self-supporting. It took a few arguments and some deep soul searching with my wife to get over being afraid to spend money. She taught me to be generous. I didn't realize that generosity was uplifting to the spirit. Relaxing my grip on the household finances was an important part of recovery for me. And a huge stress reducer.

I don't plan to die a wealthy person.  But if my some strange coincidence I do, then a fellowship has been set up to help out Ph.D. students who are in need of funding at one of our alma maters. One way of giving back. There are many other ways to help out those in need. It's important in so many ways.

Prozac Nation

I am planning to go out on the boat today for four days. The forecast is for 35 mph winds and a gale warning is in effect. I won't be going to my usual anchorage, but will hunker down in a protected area of the harbor and wait until the wind subsides tomorrow before going to the "secret" island.

My little dilemma is nothing compared to the 200 mph winds that raked the Philippines this week. I cannot imagine anything being left with those kinds of winds. It would be like a nuclear explosion happened. I keep hearing that aide is on the way, but the response seems slow.  I would like to make a donation but want to make sure that it is a reputable one where the actual donations get to the people who need it.  If you have any ideas on this, let me know.

My wife has started on a new medication for depression, and it seems to be helping.  We have had a rough time of it since her parents died.  Some days both of us felt as if the air had been sucked out of us.  Then things would improve, but I could tell that she was having a hard time in general.  I suggested to her that she might want to see her doctor.  Among many of her attributes is the ability to take action when she feels depressed.  So she talked to her doctor, described what was going on, and was prescribed a different medication.  It's good to see her smiling and actually making jokes with me.  She has a wicked sense of humor when she is feeling good.

I read the book Prozac Nation after watching the movie few nights ago.  It brought home the unmanageability of depression and how it must feel to be so terribly alone in your head:
Some catastrophic moments invite clarity, explode in split moments: You smash your hand through a windowpane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like a cancer: At first its tumorous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye, and then one day -- wham! -- there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your shoulder blade, and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to kill you. Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and mind, a computer program for total negativity will build into your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen, and then one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black blot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live.

In my case, I was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that I might live because I was certain, quite certain, that I was already dead. The actual dying part, the withering away of my physical body, was a mere formality. My spirit, my emotional being, whatever you want to call all that inner turmoil that has nothing to do with physical existence, were long gone, dead and gone, and only a mass of the most fucking god-awful excruciating pain like a pair of boiling hot tongs clamped tight around my spine and pressing on all my nerves was left in its wake.

That's the thing I want to make clear about depression: It's got nothing at all to do with life. In the course of life, there is sadness and pain and sorrow, all of which, in their right time and season, are normal -- unpleasant, but normal. Depression is an altogether different zone because it involves a complete absence: absence of affect, absence of feeling, absence of response, absence of interest. The pain you feel in the course of a major clinical depression is an attempt on nature's part (nature, after all, abhors a vacuum) to fill up the empty space. But for all intents and purposes, the deeply depressed are just the walking, waking dead.

And the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, 'Gradually and then suddenly.' When someone asks how I love my mind, that is all I can say too. ― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

I watched my mother suffer with her terrible depressive episodes. I really am hoping that my wife will be feeling better now that her parent's estate has been finalized, the house sold, and the work on most of the first floor here has been done.  I am wanting her to be happy.  I tell her I love her and support her and have her back....always.  I hope that is enough.

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.

An acknowledgment

I'm sure that some of you have been in a situation where you want to say "hello" to someone at a social gathering only to wait an interminable length of time before you're even recognized as standing there.  I recall a couple of those awkward moments.  The most memorable was when I was a young professional at a social gathering.  I saw my first thesis advisor and went over to say a few words. She was really a "star" in her field--the equivalent of a rock star in science.  My first published paper, in a highly prestigious journal, was inspired by aspects of her work.

Eventually, I decided to leave the main campus and transfer to the school of marine science where I completed my M.S. and Ph.D.  This meant that I no longer had her as my major advisor.  But we parted on friendly terms and years later, there she was.  I stood politely while she was talking to someone, waiting my turn to say "hello".  I stood there for over 15 minutes without so much as a eye flicker of acknowledgment of my presence.  I felt hugely uncomfortable and small as time dragged on.  Eventually, I began to inwardly fume.

In hindsight,  it was my shortcoming to accept the unacceptable and not simply wave at her and move away.  I stuck around, feeling as if I were a bother, and was critical of myself while building a resentment towards her.  That situation taught me a lesson that I still remember.  I no longer want to be around or cater to the inflated ego of someone.

Sadly, I've seen this kind of behavior at meetings as well.  Newcomers show up and seem to stand off at a distance, not really knowing what to do.  Or they may flee from the room quickly so that they don't interact with anyone.  It's hard to walk through the doors into a complete room of strangers and admit that you have a problem related to alcoholism in a loved one.  I know that I was sensitive to the critical scrutiny of others and worried a lot about being judged when I first started in Al-Anon.

I remain uncomfortable around people with inflated egos.  I like to introduce myself to newcomers and welcome them before or after the meeting.  I appreciate anyone who is genuine.

This week is my seventh Al-Anon anniversary.  I passed it doing what I wanted to do most--go out on the boat.  Next Monday, I will share my story at my home group.  I don't know what I'll say but hope that it will be something that is encouraging to those who are looking for comfort.  I feel a great deal of humility about where I am in life.  I'm happy to not be engrossed in self so much that I don't remember what it was like to first walk in the rooms, to be the newcomer, to be the one wanting to find a friendly smile and an acknowledgment of hope.

Being engaged in life

A friend that greets me every morning and says "Feed me"

In the midst of all the sadness and loss of loved ones recently, I can say that a saving grace for me has been to stay busy and engaged in the things that I like to do.  There have been plenty of moments when I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning, but I had to take care of the animals.  So I get up and let the dogs out, feed the cats, change water, and then walk down the lane to get the paper.  It's a routine, but one that is necessary when I am struggling with sadness.

The other routine that I have is working in the garden, harvesting the vegetables,  and taking care of the flowers.  Lately, there has been a lot of rain so I haven't had to worry so much about watering. The garden has a great irrigation system on a timer so no worries there. But the vegetables have been plentiful, and the blueberries ripening each day.  So once again, I feel that sense of responsibility to get going and get outside.  No matter how bad I feel, there is just something about digging in the dirt or eating a fresh tomato or blueberry from the vine that makes me happy.

And then there is my life saver--the sailboat.  I have visited her every other day, had a few trips out to the anchorage and am planning to go out again next week for 3 days.  I've joined a Meet Up sailing group locally and hosted a couple of events at the boat.  It's amazing how meeting new people with a common interest can be stimulating and take away unhappy feelings.

I've also been participating in a couple of local photography clubs and been pushing some new avenues with them.  Again, I'm meeting new people, trying new techniques, learning, and staying focused on something I am passionate about.

What these activities mean to me is a release from pain, sorrow and anxiety.  As long as I sit and am sunk in a pit of self-pity, I'm not doing anything productive. I'm not getting better, feeling happier, or letting go.  But what I have found is that the sadness has lessened every day.  I go for hours without thinking about the loss of Mom and Pop or my cousin.  I am coming to terms with acceptance of what is.

In the opening for Al-Anon meetings, there is a line that says, “In Al-Anon we learned to keep the focus on ourselves”. Sadly,  many of us came to Al-Anon with a compulsion to focus on other people.  Many of us had a clear idea of how everyone should behave in every situation and felt very self-righteous when others didn’t follow our rules of conduct. Or maybe we felt sorry for ourselves because our lives basically were all about someone else.  A major turning point came in recovery when I realized that my life was being neglected because all my attention was on someone else.  I knew at that moment that I had to make some major changes in how I was living and thinking.

I'm still learning how to keep the focus on me and not on what others are doing. I don’t have the answers for other people. I don't make the rules for the behavior of others or any facet of their life. If I start getting caught up in what they should or should not do, I have ceased to pay attention to myself.  I know that I generally relate to others better when I allow them to be exactly as they are and keep focusing on what I'm doing.

It is necessary for me to stay involved in the living, be active in those things that I enjoy, and not dwell on my shortcomings or what I've lost.  Finding a passion for something, venturing forth to try something that you've not done before, learning a new skill, giving back to others through volunteering....the possibilities are endless.  And every day, by doing, I can feel the joy coming back into my being.

Pandora has a new box

Pandora, my in-laws cat, is having to adjust to a new life at our house.  She may be nearly 13 years old. It's hard to know her birthday because she was adopted by my wife's parents when she was abandoned years ago.

She was much loved by them, perching in Pop's lap when he read the paper or watched television.  Pandora was by Mom's side during her last days and stayed with her after she died.

Now she is here with us, in a strange house, having to adjust to two other cats who are amiable but not to her liking.  I am sure that things will sort themselves out as they usually do with animals.  There is much posturing and hissing from her.  She runs for cover into her crate, but then will venture out to be petted and hugged.  Animals learn to adapt, but I feel sad that she doesn't have the comfort and familiar smells of her human's house.

Tomorrow, we will collect the keys to the house and can begin to make the necessary fix-ups of waxing floors, painting the interior and cleaning carpets before listing the house.  The caregivers are staying until the very last minute--the stroke of midnight.  I say nothing because this is not my business.

This morning I worked out, went to a meeting, and then to lunch with my sponsor.  He has had a challenging time lately, but is also learning to adapt to situations that are different.  I only wish that we humans could make transitions as easily as our animals, not holding on to things, working thoughts and emotions over and over in our heads.

It is going to be a beautiful weekend here.  The heat has moved in though which means humidity is not far behind.  Next week I am leaving on the boat for a few days.  This weekend I'll be doing some towing on the water, delivering gas to those who run out, bringing boats whose engines have quit back to marinas and landings, and pulling people off of shoals.  Even though the days are long, it's never a dull moment when people and boats are involved.  But I'm using my Captain's license which is good.

Happy Friday to all of you.

Outing myself on resentment

I don't know how I used to write every day.  These days it seems as if every day is repetitious.  We are sometimes busy with the garden, the boat, meetings, and going to town for odds and ends.  Sometimes we have lazy days where we read and take naps.  The only difference today is that I am going to write about a resentment.

We haven't yet begun to do the hard things with selling my parents-in-law's house.  My wife has found a real estate agent who will be listing it.  We are in a holding pattern until the caregivers move out.  C. gave them up to three months, March-May, to find a place.  They are still there but are packing up.

I am going to out myself on this.  I have been pissed because I believe that they are taking advantage of her offer.  The only thing that they have been paying are the utilities. They know that we have to come in, paint, shampoo the carpets, and get the house staged to sell.  Staging includes packing up all the unnecessary items and knickknacks that her parents had.

So the other day, C. was told that they would be out by May 31.  Okay, I get that  up to three months includes the very last day of May. But what about consideration for my wife and what we have to do to put the house on the market?  And to top this off,  the caregivers haven't found a place to rent but are moving in with the next door neighbor and her husband.

I know that this is none of my business. It's up to my wife to settle the estate, get the house ready and list it with the real estate agent.  I haven't been over to the house on purpose because I am not pleased with the fact that the caregivers are still there.  Yes, they were great to Mom.  They were also paid handsomely and had a place to live.  Now they are still living there while we are in a holding pattern.

It takes a great deal of reminding myself what I have learned in recovery to keep my mouth shut.  I am telling myself it is just a few more days and then we will be able to get to work on what we have to do with the house.  My wife leaves for a week in Nantucket on June 14 so I don't know whether we will be able to accomplish what we want to before she leaves.

Once again, I realize that I don't have to concern myself with this.  But there is this little voice that likes to pipe up in my head telling me that people are self-centered and think only of what is most convenient for them.  One of the caregivers owns a home on the island that she has rented out, so she is getting income and living now rent free.  Okay--enough of this--I don't need to think about the what if's, the why not's or the yes, but's now.

On other news, we are planning a picnic out here in early June for some recovery friends.  We seldom entertain anymore, so this will be a chance to spend a few hours with people and have burgers and BBQ.

I am off to the boat for part of the weekend.  Hard to believe that another Memorial Day has come around.  Hope that you are going to have a long weekend.

A letter to the alcoholic from an Al-Anon

I am your family member, lover, friend.  I need help. I too have been affected by the disease of alcoholism which has caused me to lose my self-esteem, self-respect and motivation in our relationship.  I am learning through Al-Anon to take a stand on behalf of myself as your parent, child, wife, lover or friend.

Don't lie to me because in doing so you only lie to yourself by accepting your lies as truth. The truth may be painful, but I must realize my own truths in rigorous honesty.  

I do not have the power to make anyone "entirely ready" to choose recovery. I am choosing recovery for me.  If you so choose, you will call on your Higher Power - the god of your understanding for this help.

Don't believe you can outsmart alcoholism. It is a progressive disease that will take you hostage, teach you to avoid responsibility and lose respect for yourself, while others will lose respect for you at the same time. It will break you to the point that you may die.

Don't try to exploit or take advantage of me because I am learning to focus and take care of myself.  I have personal boundaries and dignity and won't be an accomplice to your evasion of responsibility. I am taking responsibility for my part by working the Al-Anon program one day at a time and embracing a new way of living.

Don't lecture me, moralize, scold, praise, blame or argue whether you are drunk or sober.  I am no longer a doormat. I have moved out of the doorway and you cannot step on me anymore.  I am detaching with love: "I'll see you after my meeting.  I love you."

Don't make promises you don't intend to keep.  Let's be honest with one another. Neither of us is perfect, and I doubt we ever will be. I think that is okay.  I accept you as you are.  I can take what I like and leave the rest. Can you say the same of me? If we postpone the pain by not working on ourselves, are we happier or just stuck? We can try to run away, but I know that wherever I go, there I am.

Mostly, I am not going to have expectations of who I think you "should" be.  For me, I can have expectations that by working the steps I will find peace.  I know now that half measures will avail us nothing.  Alcoholism drove me to surrender and choose recovery. Are you ready to do the same?

Don't lose your temper with me.  I am not going to take what you say personally and am not going to react to your anger by reciprocating with rage and harboring resentments.  When I point a finger at you and take your inventory, there are four more fingers pointing back at me.  Let's communicate respectfully, and speak in the same manner we would like to be spoken to.

If one of us grows a little quicker than the other, don't let anxiety about this cause us to abandon one another or give up on ourselves because of fear, nor let it compel us to do for one another what we must do for ourselves.  Let's not tell one another how to work our programs or make threats if there are program slips or relapses. Let's allow one another the dignity to make our own choices and experience our own consequences.

Also,  let us not use words and deeds that would cause us to suffer consequences of criticism, shaming, rejection, or abandonment for not being perfect. It's cruel to attempt to reduce a person through sarcasm and harsh words.  Doing so perpetuates a crisis to our new found trust in one another and therefore, exacerbates each of our illnesses.  Let's be kind to one another.

Above all, let's not run away from reality. We each have our disease and must never forget that. The journey back to ourselves is a worthwhile one.  Alcoholism is an illness, and it can be arrested but never cured. We can start now to learn, understand and plan for our recovery in our respective programs. We may need the help of professionals - a doctor, counselor, or psychologist, another recovering person (a sponsor). But mostly we will need guidance from our Higher Power to recover and restore our being - to make us whole as individuals and with one another.  The spirit that was broken can be repaired.

We may hate ourselves yet love one another. To do nothing is the worst choice each of us can make for ourselves and those we love. Instead let's strive together for honesty, openness and willingness.

My hope is that you will see that you are worth the effort of recovery. I know that I am.

When bad things happen

This bad news week seems to not be letting up.  I am a news watcher.  I admit that I want to be "informed" but a part of me also wants to see what shenanigans have occurred and how the vultures of the news media work so hard and often inappropriately to eek every tidbit out of a story.  It's as if I am watching a train wreck, not wanting to see but seemingly not able to tear my eyes away as the carrion birds circle over head. 

And basically I am left feeling.....not much.  I have become jaded to the killings, the explosions, the fires, the wounded, the dead children, the messed up and incompetent legislators.  I have news burnout.  Or maybe I am simply accepting that ultimate truism in Al-Anon--I am powerless over just about everything, except me and those beloved animals that depend on me to feed them and take care of them.  So I've made a choice for silence on news for a few days.  I'm not watching anymore grieving parents, people without legs, burning buildings and flabby chinned geezers who proclaim that they know what the American people want.  

My powerlessness was a realization early in life.  I was powerless over my father's attitude and drinking; powerless over my mother's depression; powerless over the animals that got run over in the road; powerless over love and rejection.  But even though I might have known that I was powerless at some deep level, I still suffered in my heart and head from what I couldn't control.  I kept thinking that I could somehow make things right, do things over, and force others to see how wrong they were.  If that didn't work, I could be passive aggressive, self-pitying, and ceaselessly ask "Why?".  Acceptance wasn't in my nature.  

I still have an issue with injustice.  I want to see things set right. I want to see people care about each other, see their goodness come out.  

I'm not about seeing the bad people suffer.  Somehow, I think that they already are suffering, not liking themselves much if the truth were known.  And for those who can't see that they do wrong, and are all caught up in hate, well....those are the ones that will not get it no matter what I do or don't do.  

The injustices of this week will fade a bit with time for most of us.  And there will be a respite in which we move on to something else.  Even the small "hurts" that happen every day can be viewed as an injustice.  What I need to think about is what my part was in what happened.  Sometimes the answer is nothing.  But most times, if I search deep within, I realize I played a role, at least a small one. Admitting that takes away the power of judging and self-pity and  teaches me how not to do it again. Blaming everyone else makes me the victim, and that isn't where I want to be. 

I've made a lot of amends for the hurt I caused others.  I have wounded quite a few people, both intentionally and without my knowing it at the time. In my life, I haven't looked for ways to dull the pain through alcohol or drugs.  I took a lot of it on the chin and in the heart.  I was wounded but not fatally so.  I got patched up and moved on.  And when bad things happen today,  I still feel the pain but somehow the hurt is less than it used to be.  I am not stuck for weeks on end with resentment and righteous indignation. I don't want to strike out to wound anyone else. 

Maybe I have learned that if I am hurting less when the bad things happen, I am able to laugh a bit more when something is funny and appreciate the good times, good people, good books, and good love when they come along.  At least that is my hope. 

Blazing hot little pains

This has been a great couple of days.  I shared my story at my home group meeting on Monday and picked up my six year medallion.  We shared watermelon after the meeting.  This group is truly home for me.  I am glad that I have made such good friends there.

Yesterday, I picked up one of the fellows that I sponsor and brought him to the house so that we could have an "intensive" day of working on the steps.  He lives far out in the country on another island.  By boat, it would be an easy distance, but by car, it takes about 40 minutes.  He is 19 and his parents only have the one car.  He also has no driver's license because he has not yet gotten a visa.  His story is one of tremendous struggle.  Suffice to say that he has endured so much to be in this country.

I picked him up around 9 AM, and we spent the day doing work on the first two steps.  We took breaks for lunch, to walk around the property, and for dinner.  He loved the dogs who were enjoying seeing someone new.  They recognize a good person instantly.

The day was intensive, but we had a good time sharing and talking.  I can tell that this fellow is so willing and wanting to have peace of mind.  After dinner, we went to the 7 PM meeting where he was warmly welcomed.  I hope that we can do something similar each week because nothing is better than two people sitting down together and talking.

My wife said later that I was going to help this young fellow to open up and grow up.  My goal is to be a friend, a listener, a traveler with him.  Our interaction benefits me as much as it does him.  And that is priceless beyond words.

I am reminded this morning that amidst the pain of life there are those blazing hot moments that make everything worth while.  I remain the optimist in this life, but I understand the sentiment below so well.


"Sure, we'd faced some things as children that a lot of kids don't......We still hadn't learned, though, that growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something.

Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize that there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind - graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations. There's the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens. 

And if you're very, very lucky, there are a very few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realized that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last - and yet will remain with you for life.

Everyone is down on pain, because they forget something important about it: Pain is for the living. Only the dead don't feel it.

Pain is a part of life. Sometimes it's a big part, and sometimes it isn't, but either way, it's a part of the big puzzle, the deep music, the great game. Pain does two things: It teaches you, tells you that you're alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. It leaves you wiser, sometimes. Sometimes it leaves you stronger. Either way, pain leaves its mark, and everything important that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve it in one degree or another." — Jim Butcher

Changed attitudes can aid recovery

I was reading The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage and thought that the following excerpt was good.  I suppose that learning to communicate would apply to an addict as well.

"You know that no improvement can be accomplished unless we're consistent. If we haven't the courage to speak up when the drinker is in a sober phase, he'll just go on believing that there's no limit to what we can tolerate. But we have to know what we think before we can say it convincingly. We can't just bury it and hide our heads under a blanket of hope. Our husbands have a right to know what we expect from them. It's up to them to decide whether or not they want to live up to our expectations. Not letting them know how we feel is dishonest. It's just another way of pretending we accept the situation when we don't. It's a cop-out. If we want the alcoholic to face reality, we must face it first, and not be afraid to share our feelings." from the chapter on "What Manner of Communications are These?"

I don't think that it is easy to communicate when someone is drunk.  In fact, I would communicate a lot of anger because that is how I felt--angry, frustrated, and bitter.  And during the sober times, there would be the passive aggressive kind of communication--sighs, rolling eyes, muttering under my breath.  What is the right kind of communication to have with someone who is actively drinking?

It certainly isn't about nagging and repeating the same stuff over and over about hurting me, hurting others, hurting yourself.  The communication then was basically one way, with little in the way of acknowledgement or reciprocation from my wife.  Sharing feelings was difficult and the moments when we had a real conversation based on honesty were few and far between. It's amazing how much love I felt,  but I had a hard time communicating in a loving manner because I was so angry about the drinking.

Alcoholism makes all those associated with it lonely.  For me, it is a lot easier to be alone and lonely, than be with someone and still lonely.  Wanting to communicate and get the other person to understand was a huge need.  Sometimes I would be overwhelmed with my feelings.  They would come out, and she would either sit and say nothing or get up and walk away.

I know now that I was spewing out my emotions, and it was too much for her to process.  And it was too much for me to contain all the feelings.  In Al-Anon, it is a good idea to process a little at a time. Start slowly and work through the steps.  Take baby steps, a little at a time, one day at a time.  This is true for me and for the alcoholics in my life as well.  I don't think that any of us can handle all the emotions thrown together all at once. It's a jumble that needs to be sorted out.

What I have learned to do is to work on one thing at a time. It may take a long time to be able to communicate honestly and without fear.  I am not wanting to air every emotion and feeling like I did before.  I can sit with what I feel and not look to blame it on someone else or pass the hot potato to burn another.

I am grateful that I am looking at what we can give each other, rather than what we aren't able to give at this time.  We have made a lot of progress in learning to communicate with love, concern and respect.  I know that both of us are much happier.  It is true that "changed attitudes can aid recovery".   I'm getting better, we're getting better.

A new attitude

Okay, here is what we are going to do.  We are flying to Texas to eat with Pam and then hopping on a jet to get to Kitty's for the late evening party!

Seriously, thanks for the comments on yesterday's post.  If I were entirely without feelings and longings,  I would not be alive.  The good thing is that I have learned to move beyond the "what ifs" to the "what is", given enough time to reflect. So, we do have a solution that doesn't involve air travel, although it would be fun to have a Blogger friends get together.

Last evening, we had a "summit" meeting with the new caregivers, Brad and Jessica, the parents, and Karin and Elias who are leaving next Tuesday.  We got the transitional stuff figured out about medications and doctor's visits.  We also discussed what to do about Thanksgiving.  We are cooking the mid-day meal and taking it over to the parents house and will have it there with Brad, Jessica and the parents.  After that, we will travel to visit our friends for the evening meal.

The new caregivers are in their thirties and bursting with joy.  Both have devoted years to service through Ameri-Corps and work at the homeless shelter downtown. Brad will still keep his job at the shelter where he does volunteer coordination.  So it will be good to spend part of the day with them because they are also now part of the family. Their enthusiasm is healthy.

Sometime during the day yesterday,  I regained joy and gratitude about the holidays.  And I realize that the day, any day, is what I make it.  It doesn't have to be about what it used to be, but what it is on this day.  Today I am making it a happy one.

I also wanted to share a photo of the latest addition to the animal family here.  This is Raggs who is one affectionate cat.  He wants to be picked up and held all the time so it was hard to get a photo of him not trying to crawl up my pants leg.  He finally decided to do a cute pose.

With the animals around, bread baking in the kitchen, a fire going, and a beautiful crisp day, it is easy to smile and be grateful.

A serving of self-pity

Thanksgiving is coming up next week.  It is my favorite holiday, yet this year, I have little enthusiasm for it.  We have the dining room table set, just as we do every year.  Yet, no one will be coming.  We will be taking food over to my wife's parents house.

In years past, we didn't have a large crowd, but there would be my mother, C.'s aunt,  and the parents-in-law.  One year, we had some of my wife's distant relatives over and their children.  It was a wonderful meal, with little printed up menus for people to take home.  We outdid ourselves.  And what happened was that my father-in-law got drunk, fell asleep in his chair, and everyone left him to sleep it off.  I ended up taking him home, during which he was angrily telling me that he should not have been left.  After that Thanksgiving, we decided to not have any more large family gatherings.  That day left us pretty shell-shocked.

This year, I am just tired and feeling down.  There is no joy over at the in-laws, even though the new caregivers will be there. Perhaps they will be joyful and happy to be around.  I am going to keep an open mind about the day.  We are invited to have a second evening meal at the home of some friends on Thanksgiving.  We are going to that.  Yet, I wish that our home were filled up with happy people who could enjoy this house and the food that we cook.  Would you like some self-pity served with that turkey?

It seems sad to have the table set and no one to sit down at it.  I know that it is up to us to take action.  I would like the Normal Rockwell version of Thanksgiving but that is not what will happen.  Most people are with their family, and ours has dwindled to a minimum.   Even contemplating Christmas is just too much as well.  It seems that the pressure to do something, to get "things", to force happiness out of material goods is overwhelming.  I don't want to do that.

I want the happiness to happen because we care about each other,  we want to be together, and we are the best gift to give another through our love.  That is something to be thankful about.  It can still happen with an attitude adjustment by me.

Today, right now

The fall garden is complete after weeding and planting.  Today, rain is expected which will be good.  The old vines were pulled, all the beauty of their spring freshness withered by the heat of summer.

I am meeting with a man I sponsor this morning.  He is beginning to awaken to the possibilities of less worry by letting go.

In my lifetime, many of my worst fears did come true.  But I don't think that I was helped by worrying about them.  Worry wastes energy and depletes me mentally.  I would rather take action where I can.  And once I have taken appropriate action, I have to let go and trust that I can walk through the fear.

Tonight is navigation class.  I am a chapter ahead because of time spent over the weekend reading and working on navigation problems.  I am still the over-achiever.  This is one of those personality traits that can be an asset or a defect.  Balance is the key.

My wife is leaving tomorrow to visit friends in North Carolina.  This will be her first trip away since having a heart attack in February.  I know that she will have a  good time.  I know that I will miss her.  I cannot imagine life without her.  I would not have said that in the depths of despair 5 years ago.

A young man who I have known since birth has received his Merchant Mariner's document for Master of any ship in any ocean. He has reached the top in his field.  I remember my father opening clams for him and telling him stories of the ocean when he was just a little kid.  Cosmic energy and connectedness is a powerful thing.

I will do my best to be helpful to someone today.  Each life affects so many others, and the actions of one carry on to the next.  I like this quote by Lily Hardy Hammond: "You don't pay love back; you pay it forward".  I will pay it forward today.