Archive for December 27, 2008

Endigar 155

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 27, 2008 by endigar

My alternative lifestyle has helped keep me from being sucked back into the religious box.  I have experienced both redemption and freedom, when I thought at one time that was a mutually exclusive proposition.  I remember being in church and hearing about the 12 step program.  I saw it as a bridge from a generalized spirituality to the true and specific spiritual life of Christianity.  But now that I have experienced the life and death scenario of alcoholism, I have seen the 12 steps as a bridge back to sanity.  And it was a bridge the church was never able to offer me.   My pain was met with concepts of repression and denial while I sat alone in a congregation.  It was the best they had to offer.

I hope that now I may become useful in a way I only dreamed about when I was more socially homogenized.  For someone, somewhere, the church is still a viable solution.  But we shouldn’t be kept so separated from one another that we are always looking to build bridges to the “correct destination.”  If we learn to fly, we can have it all.  We are the destination.

May your own personal mythology be fertilized with the magic of a childlike faith, unfettered by fear, recognizing no boundaries.  Its what I want for myself too.

Endigar 154

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 27, 2008 by endigar

When I first came into this program, there was someone who I talked to, who had the same sponsor as I did.  He was really one of my first contacts in the recovery network.  As time went on, he quit coming.  There was no answer on his cell phone.  Time passed, I would think of him as I trudged forward on the road to happy destiny.  What happened to him? 

Tonight, he reappeared.  He made it back in, and he is married and has a baby.  I cannot even begin to express the genuine relief  and joy I felt when I saw him.  If I was a woman, I would have wept right there.  Instead we joked and tussled about in a more masculine fashion. 

Now that I am alone, I weep.  He carries my stepson’s name.  He has a similar appearance.  And I buried my son last year because of this damned disease.   Sometimes I regret that I did not discover this way of life sooner.  I am so sorry that the best I had to offer him was religious fear. 

But I guess, in a way, he is with me as I join with others in our recovery meetings.  The significance of his life and death are apart of what it took to get me where I am today. 

I still love and miss him.

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