Daily Reprieve

The meeting was ok tonight.  They split us up and suggested the ones who had 30 days or less come into the back room.  It seemed to gut the meeting we were in, and from what I understand, the meeting in the backroom was great.  I did not really connect.  But I stayed emotionally up.  I am going to have to find a way to connect beyond just sharing in meetings.  Need to gain some intimacy.  I don’t mean the sexual sort.

I had a good meeting tonight.  We talked about the chapter in the Big Book entitled “To the Wives.”  It really is a difficult one to relate to.  It is from another culture when divorce just wasn’t as acceptable and advising women to hang in there was not seen as ludicrous.  I’m sure the tough love of Alanon would have a difficult time relating.  I remember talking with My slave about the earlier days of My disease when she attempted to attend an Alanon meeting.  The tough love message was totally out of touch with her situation.  We really needed a group that was dedicated to those in alternative lifestyles.  Ironically, she probably would have understood this chapter better than those it was originally written for.  Submission and sobriety are both treasures worthy of protection. 

For me, I saw the discussion of the progression of the disease and some insight into what to expect at its various stages. 

I accomplished many things today, small things.  Very tired.  I have a happiness mixed with anxiety.    Come on Army, let’s get this done.  Time to sleep, I guess.

I have updated “Explore 164.”  Possible rendezvous with the military tomorrow.  Didn’t go to a meeting.  But the time I spent with My sponsee last night was very beneficial for me.

I voted for McCain yesterday.  But I am not at all disappointed today.  I am proud of my country and of the history we continue to make.  I respect President-elect Obama for the campaign he ran.  He has played by the rules and not asked for special consideration for being black, been tested by some of the best political machines out there, and came through the crucible.  He came from the state of the “great emancipator,” and the design of a Higher Power cannot be honestly denied.  I have often feared the rise of black politicians, because of the human tendency to become what you hate.  I have seen some of them become the racist bigots that once dominated them.  Professional victims often morph into tyrants.  The word “racist” is the white man’s ‘n’ word and I am tired of it.  But Barak was raised by a white woman.  I don’t think he will see oppression merely because a person is white.  I have hope. 

My sponsee relapsed last night.  I remember the frustration of being blind-sided by the obsession.  Maybe we will be able to make some progress today.  I have hope.

Today I am sober and grateful.  I am grateful to be “just me.”

It was a good day in recovery.  A good meeting.  Sponsee moving forward.  Started the day attempting to close a circle, a goal I had for reciting my 3rd and 7th step prayers.  It took me over 60 times with repetitious reciting, but I achieved the goal.  My sponsor called and we had a good conversation.  We discoussed the need for humility to avoid following ideas without running them by others in recovery.  He encouraged me to hold my sponsee accountable for content of the meeting.  I was able to share at the meeting, and connected.  It was on reaching out.  Gave the history of how I got the name “Rick James…bitch.” 

I will get up early tomorrow and go vote.  And look for temp work while waiting on word from the military.   Start over, one day at a time.

I have lost track of my Higher Power.  The new week starts and the prospect that I will once again belong to the military causes Me some intense anxiety.  For some reason, I transform fear into depression.  I turn inward.  I become somewhat morose.  And my intuitive sensitivity is obscured.  I am going to see if I can convince myself to lie down and actually sleep.  I am going to look up that prayer having to do with fear and see if I can plant it in my brain before drifting off.  The prayers are basically encapsulated principals.  Anyway, I must shut it down.

I have just had one of the most fantastic Halloween’s of my adult life!  The spiritual path this program has opened for me has allowed me to be with my slave and enjoy life.  I would have been afraid of personal insincerity for using the word, “happy” when talking about my life last year.  But there truly is no other way to describe our time together during this special day.  My gratitude for this program is beyond words.  And living this life in the divine We is important to my daily life.  That means that it is relevant to my walking reality.  The Higher Power does not try to beat me down into a state of submission.  This Entity becomes what I need it to be at the time, which includes providing leadership.  But it never rules without consent.  I believe our concept of a divine monarch is a limited and corrupted view of the central intelligence, the spider of the universal web.  Anyway, my personal mythology is unimportant.  I just wanted anyone who may be getting started in recovery, wondering if life gets better to know that from my viewpoint, from where I stand, it gets better then any of my days drunk, and a lot better than any of my days under religious appeasement.  I am telling the truth.

Sponsee and I went to Starbuck’s and had an informal Big Book study, continuing to work our way through Bill’s Story.  We are finally making progress.  Why didn’t I do this sooner? 

I haven’t heard anything from the military.  It really seemed like doors were opening.  But there is nothing I can do.  I have done my part.  I must wait.

I am going to apply to work at a local treatment facility.  Probably won’t work, since I have only a year sober and no appropriate educational degrees.  I hate looking for employment.  Who doesn’t? 

My slave was happy tonight.  Dad and I had a good meal at Cracklin Barrel.  Sponsor left a message that he was thinking about me.  My daughter called attempting to work out her plans for Halloween.  I have much to be thankful for.  I have people.  And they have me.  I am connected.

I began to think back on spiritual ecstasies that occurred for me, and the prolonged effect they had on my life. I think it can be dangerous for someone with an addictive tendency to have such an experience, because it is like a high. And life becomes unmanageable when day to day living is obscured by a desperate frustration to relive that high over and over again. I think this is what enslaved me to central religion as a young adult. I kept looking for another hit of god-crack.

I experienced a spiritual ecstasy when I first read the scriptures from cover to cover, and believed I had gained insight into the Revelation of John. I believed I experienced another such ecstasy when I saw the movie “Raiders of the Lost Ark” on the big screen, with a friend I was reaching out to, attempting to proselytize him to the Christian faith. I believe I had a anti-spiritual ecstasy when I discovered the power of this disease to overrule My mind. And recently, I had one more at Oak Mountain when I was on one of my raven walks to Musepoint (see Endigar001). The sound of the water seemed to have a supernatural loudness to it, and I could feel…power. I was enraptured.

But I know to release it and accept that it is the little efforts to build faith that are the kindling for such experiences. There must be a steady discipline to create the opportunity for magic.

The reality of the Experience came for me when I quit arguing with the Higher Power. I knew that this power was not trying to manipulate me into recovery. It was not a mafia boss, a Godfather, making an offer I couldn’t refuse. It was an invisible rescue worker getting out on the ledge with me trying to convince me to come in. I kept jumping to feel the exhilaration of falling only to get beaten up by gravity. Then I would turn around and limp back into the building to step out on the ledge from one more level up. This Higher Power wanted me to live, and told me there was another way to experience flight. But I needed to learn to respect the gravity first.

Ok, I guess I have exhausted that metaphor. But I did have to change my perspective on what the Higher Power was trying to do in my life, and that came when I realized I was supernaturally powerless over this disease. I would violate all the laws of nature that drive me to preserve my life in order to experience the thrill, the rush, the freedom, no matter how temporary. No matter the consequences. No matter how many people got hurt trying to catch me as I came crashing down on them.

I came home after that second treatment, after that desperate prayer of surrender, when I knew I wanted to live, and I could tell something had changed. I stood back and watched myself, still skeptical. But when I made it past the 90 day relapse wall, and was still enjoying my new life of sobriety, I began to suspect a psychic change had occurred.  I am growing to trust the quiet satisfaction with life over the quest for a burning bush. 

I know it may sound crazy, but this visualisation seems to work.  The funk is broken again.  I want to be real, but I am afraid that if I continue to talk about it, someone out there is going to call for the men in white coats to take me away.  I want to keep the focus on the solution to alcohol and addiction, but this is apart of the solution for me.  The spiritual freedom of the program has opened and encouraged experimentation. 

On another front, I have completed the military physical and am awaiting the results.  The job disruption is a major stress.  My resources have been exhausted in the wait and may have to go get a part time job to supplement this waiting period.