See Jane Sober

Here is a response I wrote to a question posed in my group.

Are you grateful that you are an alcoholic?

I had to sit with this question for a good long while before I could answer it honestly. Or open-mindedly.

After I relapsed, I most certainly was *NOT* grateful that I was an alcoholic. But, honestly, I wasn't even grateful for my own life.

Today, 18 days in (because I got up and picked myself up AGAIN), I look at all the good things that have happened in my life over my last two years of nearly constant sobriety (which doesn't count, but has let me see clearly) and ESPECIALLY in the last few weeks. I GET to be sober. I GET to remember what I said. I GET to wake up feeling AMAZING (except on Tuesdays, which are my Mondays, because hey! A Monday is a Monday, wherever you are.) A very good friend of mine told me that not everyone gets to feel this way, and she certainly speaks the truth! And no, not everything is a pink cloud for me. Purple, maybe.

Also, losing my Aunt to a pill overdose last week has brought addiction to a sharp, clear focus for me - that makes me grateful to be an alcoholic - I *KNOW* what I need to do to succeed. I always thought that she would win, love would win...and, painful as it is, you don't "win" by sitting on your butt (see: denial, enabling).

Yesterday I participated in a triathlon. My first one. And I was the 2nd girl. 2nd! Were I hungover or depressed or anxious or embarrassed or wallowing in self loathing or any of the other things that inevitably happen to me when I drink, I never would have been able to do this.

Am I grateful to be an alcoholic? Yes. However winding and humiliating and horrible the bottom, I have learned from it.

I am much more grateful, however, to have the tools at my disposal to be a RECOVERING alcoholic.

You learn and you grow. One day at a time.

Labels: alcoholism, gratitude, life lessons

I got an e-mail today; my cousin found his mother's body yesterday morning. She probably OD'ed. I feel scared, sad, lost, and numb. Guilty.

Rationally, I know that when people are that far into their addictions that there's little that you can say or do to get them out. It has to be of their own will. Their own volition. But there's always a little voice for me. Maybe she felt abandoned.

Hearing about her death is scary. Although I have lost a fair share of people in my life, she is the first one that has been lost to addiction. It makes everything bright, clear, and sharp to me. Addiction can and does kill. She was addicted to pills, but the results are the same.

Dick wants to send flowers, but I don't even know who or where to send them to. She and my uncle are divorced, so what is the protocol, here? And what the hell are flowers going to say? I'm sorry? Watch these slowly wilt while you grieve your dead mother/ex wife? I asked my mom if it would be more appropriate to make a donation to...anywhere. I know how small the success rate is. For recovering addicts. Miniscule.

Labels: grief., overdose

Ugh, I feel frustrated when I read the group posts and see the collective months of sobriety. I think, *I* could have that many months! *I* could have one year, or whatever. But the simple fact is that I don't. And, even though this program is about me and what I choose to do with IT, I don't wish my fellow abstainers any ill will. I guess I shouldn't be so competitive all the time!

Dick and I went to the counselor again, yesterday. I didn't cry this time, and we have two common goals to work toward. 1.) Talk about the kid and what will happen with him next year. And 2.) Talk about life after here. I think both of these could be unpleasant conversations, but will do as I am asked.

The counselor did mention that he felt like there was a "Jane" camp, and an everybody else camp. I can agree with that. I know that I'm a hardass, but I think that I turned out okay. You don't get anywhere by negotiating with children.

We moved all the hard liquor out of our house, and I feel...I feel...relieved. Light, almost. The counselor equated it to having low blood sugar and having chocolate cake in the fridge all the time. I never really thought of alcoholism as a "disease" per se, but I can see how this could make sense. I guess Dick never saw the alcohol because he never drinks it, but I used to look at it every day. And not stare at it, or salivate over it, but just see it. If it was a dark day, then I thought about drinking it. On the days that I did relapse, then I drank it.

I'm feeling restless. Time to get out and run. Time to get up and go to a meeting - there is one tonight, thankfully. A happier group of people, I don't think I've seen in a long time. There's a lot of laughter in that room, considering.

Jane Says: January, February, March, April, May...I see you crying, but girl I can't stay.

Labels: alcoholism, family counseling, hard liquor, new sobriety

I have to laugh at myself, because as I typed that, I immediately thought of a breast examination, thank you Air Force Networks.

I spend quite a bit of time examining myself (mentally, NOT physically! When will I NOT have the mindset of a 13 year old boy?!), much to my downfall. I think I have to take a different perspective with this - specifically, not letting my ego get in the way and practicing HUMILITY.

The last day of school this week was a rough one for me. It was the first time that I have ever come that close to tears in front of my students in a long time. Nearly 10 years of teaching! And I am not a sensitive one in the classroom. We were trying to play Pictionary and they were yelling to me because they didn't understand the breakdown of the teams. I kept trying and trying to explain myself politely but they kept insisting and insisting and interrupting and blurting out and interjecting without letting me finish one sentence (because they were excited - this was a treat for them). I was so frustrated that I could feel the tears back up in my throat. The tickly feeling in my nose. And I told them to give me a second, because I was afraid that I would lose it. So I stood in the hall, trying to get some CALM.

I don't know what had upset me, exactly. That they were correcting me? Not listening? Acting rudely? Probably all of the above. My sponsor told me how when she was a teacher she would encourage her children to find her mistakes and I was dumfounded. I thought that she was a much bigger person than I was. But I don't know if that is my ego getting in the way, or if that is honestly how I want to be treated.

I was hoping that even though I am starting my days again, that because I have some months of sobriety behind me that they emotions wouldn't be so raw, but am quickly finding that this is not the case. One day at a time is the only way I can take it, and a wise woman told me that I can start a new day at any time. If my day is not going how I like it, I can restart. I need to heed those words, instead of letting things get to me.

Jane Says: Every Day is ANOTHER CHANCE - Lauryn Hill.

Labels: frustration, humility, self examination

I know I wrote a little bit about being thin-skinned yesterday - seems I am predisposed to it (no, I don't really believe that).

This morning I woke up feeling guilty for feeling upset that it bothers me that Dick drinks. When I told the counselor that I didn't want to be "one of those girls" - and by one of those girls, I mean the "I can't drink! DON'T drink around me!" girls. Who think ANYONE that drinks has a problem. I don't want to be *THAT* girl.

Rather than let it fester (as it seems I have done with so many other things), I approached him this morning, while asking him to remove all alcohol from our house. Not that there is an overabundance of it, but we do have some on hand, which I have been known to drink from time to time.

He was not angry at all, and said that he would not drink. I mentioned that I was afraid he would resent me in the long run if he didn't think that he had a problem with alcohol, and he said that he wouldn't. Which makes me wish I had opened my mouth earlier. I feel like that was such a point of contention with me. I felt angry and that it really distanced us when he was still drinking.

Another friend asked me if I felt selfish saying that he shouldn't drink, and I do, but I don't. He has had his own run-ins with my friend Al, and I don't think that it is an unhealthy choice. But that's not my story to tell, so I'll shut up about it.

He did express surprise about the other alcohol - he never touches it, so I can understand why he rarely noticed it, but I told him that I look at it every day. And it's not so much the compulsion to drink it that bothers me, but what it represents. Especially on days when I feel less centered and LESS relaxed.

An oldtimer said that I've got to learn to make do with the tools that I've got. Which means reaching out and talking more. *SIGH* I'm a writer! Not a talker!

Whenever I feel uncomfortable, I remember how uncomfortable I feel when I am drinking and inevitably do something stupid. There is no greater discomfort than that, to me.

So talk, it is.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

Jane Says: If you need a friend, don't look to a stranger.

Labels: asking for help., humility, tools

I got an e-mail from a friend today, who said that I had earned myself a new nickname. Nadia. As in Nadia from the move "Blind Date" - who drinks and gets wild. Not quite ready to laugh at myself yet, I wrote back and said that I wasn't offended.

And I'm not.

I am...I don't know. I don't think I would've written something like that. I don't point out people's flaws to them and laugh with them, do I? Maybe I do. Actually, I'm pretty sure that I do. I guess maybe I took it a little bit harder than usual, because this is more than a flaw for me. I almost let it ruin my life.

One day I'll be able to laugh at that, but not yet.

I will not, however, let it get under my skin. It wasn't said in cruelty, I don't believe, and there's no point in making something out of it.

Labels: alcoholism, insecurity

In the daily reflections on Wednesday, we read about anger being a dubious luxury. It sounded lovely to me, I wanted to wrap myself up in chocolate and satin sheets after a hot bubble bath. The sound of the words together, NOT the anger.

The last time I was drunk (which was OH! so long ago. Not really), I remember that I said specifically that I was ANGRY and that I wanted to hurt Dick. But any alcoholic knows that he or she only hurts him or herself. In my case, it was HERSELF. It was, as it always has been, "Fuck me?" "Oh no, buddy! FUCK YOU!"

At the moment of drunk, I just feel a hot, seething rage. Regardless of whatever *MOOD* leads me to drink, as in, "Wouldn't a drink or wine just be nice?" I always end up on the other side of whatever bottle seething, furious. REGARDLESS. It is pretty much a given. The funny thing is, I don't always feel that angry WHEN I am drunk, but my actions speak otherwise. So much so, in fact, that I have been labelled, "A very angry girl." which surprised me. But doesn't surprise me.

I think I started stepping off the cliff into "I can drink!" when I started feeling angry about a number of things. First it was the big things, then it was the little things, then it was just EVERY things. When it finally seeped into my relationship with Dick, HELLO AL! Long time no see.

And here I am spit out and chewed up on the other side. Which leaves no doubt in my mind that right now, anger is something that I will not afford myself. Luxury or concrete wall, I don't care. I've got to learn how to handle things in stride without alcohol and with whatever I can do to combat it. I thought I had some pretty fail-safe methods at my disposal (hello?! I ran a marathon?!) to help quiet the inner stirrings of frustration and anger, but in retrospect, I wasn't doing enough because I didn't feel ANY PEACE, after awhile.

I'm not saying that I'll become an automaton. I will try and take it in stride, one day at a time.

Jane Says: Isn't it time you got over how fragile you are? We're all waiting.

Labels: alcoholism, anger, sobriety