Grey Life

Left, right, up, down

In, out, over, under

Here, there, stop, go

North, south, east, west

Drunk, sober, young, old

Good, evil, dead, alive

Black, white.

 

Everything in between-

Everything in between…

 

Grey rocks with a hint of love

Time ticking, leaves lofting, wind whispering

Serene, peaceful, calm

Stretching, growing, changing-

All fluid moments really

The only absolute is not absolute.

 

Grey life has its hold on me

Super Annoyed and Life is STILL Grey

So about an hour ago, I wrote what I felt was a pretty darn good post about life being grey.  I took a self-proclaimed sick day because I could feel my body and mind getting antsy. The gist of the post was that in this world of change, I have to let go of living in black and white moments and acknowledge and accept the world of grey. I was feeling calm, serene and peaceful.

Then, I hit “publish.” Well my cursor spun so I hit File>save and named the file Grey Day thinking Word Press was not going to get the better of me today. I rebooted my comp, reloaded the Word Press page and searched my files. Sure enough, Grey Day was lurking in the background. I exhaled, hit open and there it was: a big, blank template.

What?!? Come on! I saved it. I named it. I, I, I. So I Googled how to retrieve a lost WordPress post. For whatever reason, the previous edit, drafts, settings- everything was a wash.

Kick me to the curb. I’m done!

But that isn’t what my post was about at all. It was based upon the uncertainties of life and how we can make a decision how we wish to respond. I wrapped my head around the possibilities of embracing the grey- how life can be a beautiful grey if we take the time to step back and look at the big picture. I believed that I deliberately took a day for some self-care so I could ponder some of life’s smallest moments.

But I didn’t want the grey at that moment. I wanted to be ticked or to have some miraculous screen pop up with my beautifully, well-written, thoughtful piece. I wanted all or nothing. I was jumping into what I just wrote about.

Slow down, Linda. Slow down.

I do NOT have to go black and white on this one. I can go grey. (Deep exhale here.)

The best part is this moment is exactly why I needed to think about the grey. Months ago the same thing happened. What I did then was to close my laptop and not write again for months. The pain of making a mistake was eating at me. So I quit. Temporarily. I posted a few pieces since then and I told myself I would be more careful.

And I WAS more careful. But sometimes, the file gets lost. Sometimes, the car breaks down. Sometimes, you take a day off of work and not a whole lot gets accomplished.

Life is grey after all.

 

“Bitterness and resentment only hurt one person, and it’s not the person we’re resenting – it’s us.” Alana Stewart

Today, I am super tired. My son has growing pains (literally) and needed someone to rub his achy knees at two in the morning. That coupled with a late-night movie I HAD to see end- have left me feeling wiped out and drained. I’m pretty sure given the chance , a 20-minute power nap would quickly become a four hour luxury lie down. Needless to say, I am a bit edgy. But I am aware of those feelings and I know why I feel this way so I have a tendency to let things roll off of me because I understand the source.

This afternoon, our high school musical group performed a twenty minute preview of their upcoming show; we were allowed to bring our classes down during our extend time to watch the performance. It’s a privilege not a requirement for us to take them there; I know how talented our kids are, so it was perfect for me to give them some support.

Well, as soon as we sat down, I had a row of boys who talked, laughed, and carried on. I gave them the evil teacher eye look. No luck. I quietly shushed them. Nope. No response. I stated firmly, “Gentlemen. It’s proper theater etiquette to refrain from distracting the audience and perhaps the players.” This worked a bit; the curtain opened, and the preview began.

Those assholes laughed and talked throughout most of their performance. While I was still able to hear and to enjoy their show onstage, I was miffed. These are the same boys who demand respect because they play football. I don’t have anything against athletes; I was a three-sport athlete myself in high school. But I am against rude.

Afterwards, I spoke to them and gave them the yadda yadda yadda about being leaders and being respectful. Off they went- not caring a fiddle what I said.

Enter resentment and bitterness- my two friends I love to hate. They show up out of nowhere, eat all my food, trash my house, linger far too long, and I have to literally kick them out of my house before they will leave. I need to change the locks.

Feeling the way I did needed to be tracked back to why. First, I was in a position of authority, and they blew me off which is annoying. Next, I was correcting their behavior not for my benefit, but for them to be able to do the right thing and to be supportive of something other than themselves. Furthermore, the kids in the musical work tremendously hard for three solid months and a little recognition would be appreciated.

But for me to feel bitter? What was that all about? I guess it boils down to people in this world who expect, feel entitled and demand when it’s their turn but who in turn are oblivious to the needs of others. If that doesn’t define a late stage alcoholic, I don’t know what does. I do not like in others what took me 44 years to recognize I was doing. Something we are told in AA is “to keep our side of the street clean.” When I am feeling bitterness and resentment, I am not on my side of the street; I am down the street, a half block over running to the next neighborhood. How they behave is none of my business; how I behave is. How they treat others is not my problem; how I treat those same “others” is. I have to ask myself if I am coming from a place of love, then I do I really have bitterness in my heart? I do not; I can not.

In the long run, when I stew over something that has happened, chances are the other person

a. doesn’t care

b. has forgotten

c. has no idea what I am talking about

The damage is to me. To my core. To my inner identity. This is where deep breathing and long pauses have become my ally. I have to ask myself if harboring negative energy is worth it in the long run. I know it is not because if I do not release it right away, it will park itself right on my couch and hang out, creep into the back bedroom, and slowly make its way into my storage closet. Cleaning closets is never fun. No. It’s best for me not to open the door but to instead change the locks and the turn the music up.

Today, I am so grateful to be able to let go to the universe the things I cannot change and to know my limits and what my part is.

 

“Sometimes you just need to reflect on what you know before you learn more.”

One of my students told me that today. She was telling me how much she appreciates the class periods when we just absorb the information, talk about it and apply it to real life. In my mind, it’s a ‘blow off” day; but in their 14 yo brains, it’s a chance to catch up on what they’ve been reading and to put it into practice. I was taken aback by her words.

What does it mean to reflect on what I know before I learn more? This is so “simplex”- simple yet complex at that same time. If I apply this philosophy to my life it looks something like this:

I know I am searching for a better, more improved, authentic, enhanced relationship with my Higher Power. Some people call this God, Yahweh, El Shaddai, Jehovah, The Light and others. Being raised in a strict Catholic home, my sense of spirituality and religion are really confused. I’ve taken the greater part of my sobriety wrestling with what I believe God/spirituality/religion mean to me. So, I’ll start with what do I know?

I know my HP is part of me sometimes. It is the force within me that pulls me to do right: help a friend, smile when I don’t want to, stick up for a coworker, hold the door for a stranger. It’s the calm flow of energy that I can feel gliding through my pulse; it’s the deep, cleansing breath that takes the negative gunk out of my mind and the toxic beliefs out of my inner self in order to make room for more tranquility, joy, and serenity. When I can feel my HP in me, I am moved to tears; it feels so good to be so calm, to KNOW that I really am in the care of something greater than I. It’s the peaceful wash of nothingness that bathes my body just before I nod off to sleep. Sometimes I am pulled to call someone, to make a turn in a store I wouldn’t normally take, to send an email or imessage to someone I haven’t spoken to in a while just out of the blue. I am learning to trust that as my HP; it’s the connection to myself and a different realm for the purpose of the greater good. When I write here, for instance, or in my journal, I let my fingers dance across the keyboard and keep breathing asking my HP to fill me. Some moments the tug is stronger than others.

However there is another part of me that believes my higher self is external. This happens when I see kindness in action: my boys playing well together and sharing a hearty laugh; my husband selflessly volunteering to help out another family member; my students thoughtfully processing something we’ve talked about and doing good for others. But I see my Higher Power in more than just other people: a glorious sunset, or a cleansing, torrential rain where the worms can find solace in a crack, or even in the open country sky where the stars glisten in the sky like a multitude of precious gems flickering in the sun’s glare.

Beyond nature though, I am learning my Higher Power sometimes just is. I don’t need another human, or animal or bit of nature to see Him. It’s this Almighty Presence that merely takes up space in order to comfort me but leaves me open and unsmothered in order to catch a breeze upon my cheek.

So this idea of absorbing what I know until I can learn more is really brilliant. I still have questions about who or what or how my power greater than myself can be or is or may evolve into. The beauty is I get to let it happen in its due time. I can enjoy, accept, and ponder all in the same moment. I don’t have to have any more questions; today, I get to just accept where I am and think about what I do know. There’s comfort in that and a lot less pressure.

Darn kids are so smart these days!

 

Being Willing

Today’s AA meeting focused on the Daily Reflection which was based in willingness. I thought about my willingness when I first declared and admitted I am an alcoholic. At that point, willingness was not the first word that I would use to define myself. I think desperate covers it better. However, there was a small piece of me that was willing, or I would have never stepped foot into  a meeting.

So what have I been willing to do? I have been willing to take a good, hard look at myself and determine that I have some real issues. Obviously, I am an alcoholic. But aside from the glaring pink elephant in the room, I am also working on anger issues, manipulation, playing the victim, and being judgmental.

The anger issue is really not towards anyone in particular. Lie. I have anger issues with my husband. Mainly, he upsets me because he calls me out on my bullshit and knows me better than I know myself. This irritates me and I allow my anger to take over. Some days, I want to point out my character defects and work on them and not have someone else do it for me. Overall, my anger is much better than it was 16 months ago. This is directly related to the point that I do not wake up hungover, scratching my head in wonder of what I did the night before, scrambling through my text messages to see who/what I texted, and also rummaging through the outgoing calls so I know with whom I spoke. I also don’t have to play the game with my husband asking leading questions so I know how bad of a mood he is in based upon the scene I created the night before. I recall the pit in my stomach which quickly transformed into anxiety and eventually anger. I was so angry with myself, but there was no way I was going to actually admit it. Nope. Better to keep on hiding and slam things around blaming a “sinus” headache for my foul mood.

Today, I can wake up relatively guilt-free ( I still have some late-night cookies to feed my sugar cravings), happy, balanced, and without hangover symptoms. I am no longer angry when my feet hit the floor. I now find myself in prayer asking my HP to lead me in the right direction, to be calm, to be patient, to be thoughtful of others and to be sober.

Other than anger, I can be willing to look at how I like to manipulate others. I am grossly aware of my keen ability to do so which makes overcoming this tough. I have mastered the art of this and have spent years buttering people up so they trust me. I can honestly say there have been countless times where I remain silent when asked how I feel about a situation, or particularly if I don’t really care about the conversation, where I agree with what is being said. I think of how the outcome will directly affect me, matter, or make a real difference. More often than not, none of these apply. I also take into consideration if I have any control over the situation or the outcome. Generally, i do not. So rather than insert my two cents worth, I am quiet. It’s quite freeing really. I don’t have to think so hard. I don’t have to try to sound intelligent or witty or compassionate. I can just be. That’s truly liberating.

Playing the victim is a role I am glad to shed. That was exhausting. One of the biggest paradoxes of my life was the fact that I lived as a victim but claimed I was independent and NO ONE was going to tell me what to do. It was perplexing to me how I found myself able to take responsibility for ANY of my actions since I spent a lifetime blaming everyone and everything around me for decades. Playing the victim gave me the out of being an adult, owning my actions, being responsible, being present. You  name it. I gave myself an escape route for nearly every aspect of my life.

Today, I don’t want to be a victim. It’s an ugly place to be. It’s hopeless and it’s helpless. I would honestly rather not know an answer and admit it than spend an afternoon making up some garbage about how I couldn’t get something accomplished because no one understood how busy I was.  I am willing to own up to my mistakes, to recognize that I am human and am going to continue to make mistakes. The beauty is my past does not define my future.

Finally, I am working on being less judgmental. When I was active in my addiction, I would judge everyone around me to justify my behavior. I didn’t feel as bad about myself if I convinced myself that everybody else was in a worse situation that I was. Sober, I still slip into judgement. It’s hard for me to keep my mind free of this. I am not as bad as I used to be, but I still have some work to do. This generally happens when I am not having a good day or when I haven’t prayed hard enough. I know when I am right with my HP, I have little or no time to let the “little stuff” impede progress.

Because I am willing to step aside and let my HP be my guide, doors are opening that I couldn’t have imagined possible. I have not had anything earth shattering happen as a result of my sobriety, but I feel better inside and out. My spiritual side is growing and my ego is shrinking. My priorities are shifting: My kids are blessings, my job is a gift, my extended family is a good source of support. I am being asked to serve on committees that I would not have been considered for in the past. Through this volunteerism, I am expanding my horizons and having fun doing so.  Today, being willing means I get a second chance to live the life I was intended to live.

For that and so much more, I am grateful.

Sometimes My Mind is in the Drivers’ Seat and Other Disturbing Alcoholic Thoughts

I have to be honest: I have been terrible about getting on here and writing down my thoughts. It’s been pure avoidance, really. It’s been the old tapes playing in the back of my head that tell me taking time out here to collect my thoughts is selfish; I have other things I should be doing: grading papers, grocery shopping, doing laundry, finding baseball socks under the couch. Anything and everything in order to avoid being with me. I avoid myself like a terrible friend.

And yet, it’s comfortable. I make progress and then I sit still for a while. Then, I either move a little forward with a break-through thought, or I back slide into a pity party. Lately, it’s been a combination of both. Life can be confusing when I make it that way. KISS (Keep it simple stupid) applies to those around me. Ha! MY problems are bigger, worse, more complicated. You wouldn’t understand…my damn Ego gets the better of me some days. Why can’t I just say “I’m sorry” and leave it at that? Why can’t I just let myself be when I need to? Why do I revisit old problems like a burial site of a loved one? I know when I am spinning my wheels in a problem but I cannot seem to take my foot off the accelerator. There is a burning part of me that wants to see if I hold it down long enough, will it combust? Can I actually make a situation worse so I can sit in my pain and then be a victim again? In my conscious mind, I am aware but like an addict, I cannot stop myself. I am addicted to bad decisions. I have not come far enough in my recovery to know that I don’t have to treat myself like shit- that I don’t have to be in a crisis mode and that I am allowed peace and serenity. I get these moments, for sure. But I have not done enough work to know how to make them stick for longer than an afternoon.

I need an off switch. I have to figure out how to disconnect without tuning out the whole world in the process.

When I reread what I have written, I sound like a woman in dire need of a talk with her sponsor and a meeting. Thank the good Lord both of those are on my calendar for this evening.

I know God is here for me. I know He will pick me up because I have asked and He has done so for me many, many times. Today, I have a hard time asking, but I know I have to get over that or I fall backwards. Again.

Peace.

My Truth About Sobriety- Some Days- It F*&%$ing Sucks

In the blogosphere of late, I have come across many honest, heart-felt posts about what it’s like to be sober, to get help, to live a sober life. Having such emotions personally, I felt compelled to share. I am approaching one year of sobriety Friday and this past weekend threw me for a loop- and an angry one at that.
Here’s what happened and how I felt:

Bitch 1. My husband and brother-in-law had a few beers and left the remainders in the outside fridge. I have one hard, rule and that is NO alcohol can remain in my house after the imbibers go. They either take it with them or my husband disposes of it. This didn’t happen. I was pissed off and resentful that my husband didn’t follow this rule. Alcoholism is a family disease and having beer- despite the fact that it was some nasty Pabst crap- is like putting a hand grenade on my back and asking me to run; it’s dangerous. When I confronted him the next day about it, he said he forgot. I came unglued and went on a tirade about how I have asked one thing (not true, I’ve asked for many things over the past year)and that he CAN’T forget. When he forgets, I feel like he is saying, “I don’t understand your disease and I am going to carry on with my life no matter what it may or may not trigger for you. F*((ing deal with it.” Of course, this is NOT what he saying, but that is not what I am hearing.

Bitch 2: The argument continues (later in the day) with me telling him he HAS to understand that I do not want to go to a family party when the whole point is drinking and to “fill the tub full of beer.” I have opted to stay home or to drive separately because I need an out. He isn’t satisfied with this and thinks it’s ridiculous that I don’t want to be around his family. I feel like a caged animal and I am angry. I will not be forced into any situation that may compromise my sobriety. I remind him that HE is the one who gave me an ultimatum last year: “Quit drinking, get some help, or the kids and I are gone.” I took that to heart and tell him that I did what he demanded and he has to accept that this is my new normal. Maybe he needs to try Al-Anon, I tell him.

Bitch 3: He tells me that I am not the woman he married. No, I am not. I don’t want to hang with our old “friends” or go to the ole watering hole because the sole purpose is to drink. I want to do things that do not involve alcohol. He says this is not realistic. I know this as I have been with him on a company trip for 7 days in an all-you-can-drink atmosphere; I’ve attended professional baseball games, pre-parties, post parties, Christmas parties, Fourth of July parties, weddings, baby showers, let’s-get-together-and-drink-because-we-can parties, etc. But WHAT THE HELL DO SOBER PEOPLE DO FOR FUN???? Well, we go for walks, go to movies, enjoy our children, garden, snow ski, water ski, exercise, visit with other nondrinkers, ice skate, roller skate, journal, read, go to meetings, work. As for not being the same woman he married, I say thank God. I have changed and I like to think for the better. I tell him to go to Al-Anon. Again. This is my mantra, I swear. He never takes me up on it.

Bitch 4: “I know you are a ‘better’ person now, with your new-found relationship with God, your sponsor, your sobriety, but what about me? I feel I am not good enough for you anymore.” I’ll be honest, when I hear that, I cringe. I cringe because I have (admittedly) had those same thoughts. I have worked pretty damn hard to get where I am. I have disclosed stuff to my sponsor that my collection of confessions to the priests over the years don’t even come close to the truth. And while the shame burns my cheeks some days, I know I am not alone when I am with my sober friends. I am getting help; he is not. I cannot carry this family alone; I tell him to go to Al-Anon. Again.

I could go on and on, but I will spare all of you the details of every aspect of my marriage over the past year. The point of all this is SOBRIETY IS HARD. Fucking hard. On the whole family. There are some days when I think drinking would be easier. Some days I feel like, Jesus, I have no friends left; my husband is miserable but is putting on a happy face and I miss the belly laughs we would have while on our way to a good buzz. I don’t go to work Happy Hours because I feel awkward. When I run into people who haven’t seen me in a while, they ask where I’ve been and I mutter, “Oh super busy with the kids” because like it or not, this IS a disease where we are judged by our “lack of morality”. I sit and listen to people judge a woman who committed suicide after being sober one week. “How could she be so selfish?” “What is SO bad that she had to drink THAT much?” “Seriously, her kids will never be the same. She should have never done this.” I listen in silence as I can identify with every thought that woman may have had. I got help and it worked so far; she tried and it was too much for her to bear. Who am I to judge?
At the end of the day, I look back at the struggles. I know it’s okay to cry; I am still grieving the old life I had no matter how fucked up and unhealthy it was. It was a life I lived for 44 years and while screwed up, it was comfortable. But, I honestly do not miss how I felt both physically and spiritually. I was truly defunct in those areas. I know that my life is much better today and that is what gets me through the tough times.
Sobriety IS hard and anyone who says it’s a walk in the park is either a. not an alcoholic or b. never tried or c. in denial
Aside from all of the bullshit, I Do have more good days than bad. And that is what keeps me sober today.

Um, step aside please, my Ego needs more room….

My Ego is so great. No seriously. I have the greatest Ego. Ever. It is so amazing that I don’t even know it’s in my way of my recovery. Sigh.
My daughter is away at a boarding school so she can be kept safe, away from drugs and alcohol, educated, learn about God and so on. It’s an excellent facility and I am forever thankful that she is there and that there are people in this world who are gifted enough to handle these tough situations. She has been there a little over three months and will remain there for an additional year when she completes the program.
I struggle with so many areas some days and yesterday was no different.
I received a picture of her with a new haircut/color. One of the teachers there took care of fixing the bad dye job she got when I took her on my last day visit with her. It was her birthday, and I was able to be with her for six hours. One of the adventures we had together was getting her hair done. Because we were pressed for time, she did not ask the stylist to dry and/or style it for her. We left with her hair wet so I did not notice the green gleam her hair had.
but I digress…
I was a bit agitated yesterday and couldn’t put my finger on it. One of my co workers talked me through it and it made sense; then I talked with my sponsor who made even more sense out of it.
The picture is a reminder that she is away from me. The picture is a reminder that there are other women in her life who love her and will take care of her. The picture is a reminder that I was not a great mom and that she made poor decisions right under my nose. But most importantly, the picture is a reminder that she is changing, transforming, growing and learning to forgive, respect, and love herself …tasks that as an alcoholic mom I was not able to teach or to model.
The truth is my pride is wounded. I am faced with the reality that life is to be lived on life’s terms. I cannot go back; I cannot change the past. I have to love my own self and accept where I am today. I do not need to get red faced or feel my ears warm up when I know my daughter is doing exactly what I have wanted her to do all along. And she’s doing it without me.
And today, that’s okay.

“…one of the primary differences between alcoholics and nonalcoholics is that nonalcoholics change their behavior to meet their goals and alcoholics change their goals to meet their behaviors.” The Big Book

So 90 days into sobriety and I look at where I’ve been thus far. Some days, I feel like I can conquer the world: I feel joy, energy, happiness and hope. Other days, I feel antsy, agitated, impatient and restless. And, sadly, downright angry. Sometimes, I like to think I am angry at nothing at all. HA. But I know better. Something always triggers something. To say to myself or to others that  I don’t know why I’m angry is like saying I threw a stone in a pond and no ripples occurred.

Changing my behavior to meet my goals is totally new. When I was drinking, I “downgraded” my life in so many aspects just so I could keep continue to fuel my addiction. After all, I believed I was never good enough, worthy enough, or deserving enough to live a life of happiness and prosperity. I lied to myself and said that I deserved to drink because I was feeling so wretched inside. Nobody could possibly understand the guilt, shame, sadness and perpetual sense of hopelessness I had in my heavy heart. And, to make matters worse, my “God” set me up for this misery. I mean, if He wanted me to be happy, he could make it happen. So, because I felt stuck, it had to be His fault. Year after painful year, I would quip in late December that “This just wasn’t my year to have it all. Maybe next year!” 

But as I elicited laughs from my peers, the truth was there is an inherent part of me that buys into this sick theory. For years, I have allowed alcohol to speak for me, and ultimately, steer my life and my decisions. The most detrimental of all is the way I allowed alcohol to define me externally and internally.

As I continue to move away from using alcohol as my numbing agent and more towards AA, my sponsor, my therapist, mediation, blogging, BFB on Yahoo, journaling and being honest, I have found that it’s not the goals that need to change; it’s me.

Coming to this realization hasn’t been without resistance. How could I undue 44 years of misguided thinking?

“One day at a time.”

It wasn’t easy to start self-care so I had to go about it in a backwards way. I thought about how I would want my own children to be treated. Would I stand by and watch someone degrade my children? Would I tell them their dreams were too big and not to expect much out of life? Did I think they were deserving of forgiveness and unconditional love? By thinking of them and how, as a mother, I wanted them to feel utterly protected, loved, and respected by this universe I was able to SLOWLY make the transition to myself. (And when I say SLOWLY, I mean at a snail’s pace…I’m nowhere near the finish line let alone the halfway mark. Hell, I just suited up and tied my shoes!)

And because I am not at the point where I have totally immersed myself in new thinking, I still often revert to the notion of the impression I leave on my children.  I question how do I want my kids to remember me at the end of the day? Do I want them to refer to me as painful, distant, irritated, or do I prefer they smile and think, “Mom was fun and light-hearted, peaceful.” (Please do not read this as I am longing to be the “fun mom” who seeks to be buddies with her children. I have taught hs for 22 years and understand those ramifications all too well.)

So, just for today, I will reach for my newly developed goals and NOT reach for alcohol. I will be grateful for my sobriety and for the opportunity to be clear-headed enough to be introspective so I can make positive changes.

 

There are women succeeding beyond their wildest dreams because of their sobriety. Mary Karr

The last business trip I took with my husband was a major drunk fest. The kind of week-long party you need a vacation from afterwards because you don’t sleep, your liver hurts, and you’ve been on a roll for too many days. This year, the trip was different. I didn’t drink. I went from Monday night until Sunday night without a drop of alcohol making that an all-time first for me. How did I do it? Well, “I” didn’t. My Higher Power was in charge. I told Him He had to be take the wheel because I know when I think I’m in control, I know where I end up: Usually, it’s face down in my pillow, mascara staining the sheets, my memory blown and my husband pissed because I have embarrassed him professionally, again. I didn’t want this trip to be like that, but I was scared. So, I went to my therapist and to an AA meeting and I asked for help. Asking for help is still a new concept to me. I hate feeling vulnerable, but I knew if I were to stay sober, I had to reach out. I am not in this sobriety trip to recovery alone despite the number of times I drank alone. So, per the advice of those who have traveled longer and further, I planned ahead, I downloaded Bubble hour pod casts; I scheduled a detox spa day; I had my sponsor’ s number on speed dial; I had my journal and all my AA books; I knew where the nearest English-speaking AA meeting was; I had my husband’s support (with coded words for varying exits.) None of these took away my anxiety completely. But what did happen is nothing short of a miracle. I came down with a nasty sinus head ache/cold/pressure. It was marvelous. I was absolutely pain-free, but I sounded terrible. NO ONE questioned why I wasn’t drinking for the first few days. It was an absolute God-send. The sun on my face, warming me up felt fabulous. My ears were slightly clogged so I didn’t have to hear the “fun” as loud. The feeling was a perfect little bubble God put me into so as the week wore on, my strength increased. Truly, I felt protected. Once, the fuzz lifted, I had enough strength to say, “Nope. I am finally starting to feel human again; I don’t want to mess that up by drinking.” Ha. If they only knew what I meant! I have to digress a moment to the spa. One of my character flaws is being afraid to ask questions. I am afraid I will appear stupid so more often than not, I appear ignorant because I have failed to ask questions. So, I go to the spa and sign up for a marvelous detoxifying 80 minute treatment. I’ve had massages before so I didn’t ask questions. Whelp, I didn’t have a two piece bathing suit on as is recommended so I went in my birthday suit. Not really a big deal EXCEPT this treatment required the removal of the “mud” in a bathtub by the attendant. Thank God, I’ve had four kids so I am not a huge prude or am particularly modest. All the while as she is rinsing me, I think, “Why do you not ask questions? Why do you think you have a handle on this when you know NOTHING about this particular treatment?” I laughed to myself as I am working on being honest and now I know that includes me, too. I find loving myself and being honest with myself makes this sober journey much less stressful. So, a good, quiet, relaxing week without alcohol. I laughed, danced, played shuffleboard, went boating, went to several cocktail parties – all sober. It was fantastic! And what was really mystical about the whole vacation was that I learned above everything else that I can have a good time, without alcohol.