Yikes! Has it really been almost two weeks since I've blogged? Where did the time go? I'm so busy these days that I barely have time to think, which might be a good thing.
I got my 30-day chip this past Sunday. I'm still going to lots of meetings, but not as much as before, since I'm back at work. I'm still calling my sponsor almost daily and praying when I remember to. I'm slowly working on the Step Two assignment my sponsor gave me, which involves writing about my current and past conceptions of my H.P. and the forms of insanity/unmanageability in my life.
I saw my gastroenterologist yesterday and told him that the most recent course of medication hasn't been working. He wanted to prescribe a liquid opiate, but I said no, though the alcoholic/addict part of my brain was saying, "Yippee!!! Gimme, gimme, gimme!!!" I knew that it wouldn't be the best thing for me right now. Abuse would be very likely, considering my history with prescriptions. I've never had experience with strong opiates, so I have no way of knowing what my reaction would be. It could take me right out again. And even if used as directed, I would likely have to detox from it eventually.
We talked about other options, including looking at things that can cause chronic diarrhea other than inflammatory bowel diseases, which have been ruled out. His nurse drew blood for more tests, including a B12 test to see if I have pernicious anemia. I had an abdominal ultrasound this morning to check my gall bladder. I should get the results early next week. My doctor gave me samples of a medication that replaces pancreatic enzymes, in case it's my pancreas causing the problems. He felt that it was worth looking into, considering my drinking history.
He also brought up Behçet's disease because I have had other symptoms recently that are consistent with it. There is no definitive diagnostic test for it, but he is consulting the medical literature for clues. From what I've read, it's a good lead. I've had the genital sores (and tested negative for both types of herpes), swollen lymph nodes, epididymitis, sore joints and muscle pain when I hadn't been exerting myself. I'm also in the prime age group for onset of symptoms. I haven't had the mouth ulcers though, which is considered to be necessary for a positive diagnosis. However, I've read that the other symptoms can precede the mouth ulcers by years. If my gastroenterologist thinks that this might be Behçet's, then we will likely proceed with appropriate treatments, including corticosteroids, and see how that goes.
That's about it for now. More later.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Hearing the message
One issue that I am trying to deal with lately is how easily I become distracted and don't listen in meetings. When I don't hear what people are saying in meetings, I fail to hear the message and it defeats my purpose for being there. I might as well not even be there because I don't get any benefit from it. When I my mind wanders during the meeting, I am trying to refocus my attention onto the person speaking, but I struggle with it.
Ticket meetings are common at the GLBT clubhouse where I go to most of my meetings. I like ticket meetings because I feel the random element injects my H.P.'s will into the course of the meeting. However, when I have something I want to say, I start get frustrated when my number isn't called. As the meeting goes on, I find myself rehearsing my share in my head or getting impatient for whoever is speaking to finish their share. At this point, I'm not hearing anybody but myself.
Another distraction is cross-talk. My home group is a very large Friday night meeting. There are often four or five conversations going on during the meeting at once. I have very sensitive hearing and a whisper across the room is enough to distract me and take me out of the moment. I have enough trouble tuning out the sound of the air conditioning, the overhead fans, the traffic on the adjacent road, etc., without having to try to listen over all the chatter. I can get very irritated, which doesn't help me focus. I just stew for the rest of the meeting, feeding resentments for everyone who makes it difficult for me to listen to the speaker.
One distraction that came up at tonight's 10 o'clock meeting is lust. The speaker is someone I've been acquainted with for years, but I can never remember his name when I run into him. This is probably because I have always unconsciously thought of him as meat and not a person. For the first few minutes of his share, I kept sharing at the hole in the crotch of his jeans rather than listening. I had to try very hard to redirect my attention, but I did it. I could relate to his share on a number of levels and it made me realize that he was, in fact, a whole human being with thoughts and feelings. I don't think I'll have trouble remembering his name in the future.
The only solution to the problem, I think, is prayer. I think I'm going to try praying to my H.P. before each meeting to help me hear the message. I think this is a good idea, but it came from my mind and is therefore suspect by default. This idea came from the same brain that sees Ultimate Fighting Championship on television and says, "I could totally do that!" I have to remember to talk to my sponsor and other alcoholics about my ideas before putting them into action, because my alcoholic mind can make delusional, self-serving or just plain horrendously bad ideas seem like good ones. I don't, at this time, see any harm in using prayer in this way. It may or may not help, but I don't think it could hurt to try. My sponsor might see something in my motives that I don't, so I'll run it by her tomorrow when we go over my Step One work.
Ticket meetings are common at the GLBT clubhouse where I go to most of my meetings. I like ticket meetings because I feel the random element injects my H.P.'s will into the course of the meeting. However, when I have something I want to say, I start get frustrated when my number isn't called. As the meeting goes on, I find myself rehearsing my share in my head or getting impatient for whoever is speaking to finish their share. At this point, I'm not hearing anybody but myself.
Another distraction is cross-talk. My home group is a very large Friday night meeting. There are often four or five conversations going on during the meeting at once. I have very sensitive hearing and a whisper across the room is enough to distract me and take me out of the moment. I have enough trouble tuning out the sound of the air conditioning, the overhead fans, the traffic on the adjacent road, etc., without having to try to listen over all the chatter. I can get very irritated, which doesn't help me focus. I just stew for the rest of the meeting, feeding resentments for everyone who makes it difficult for me to listen to the speaker.
One distraction that came up at tonight's 10 o'clock meeting is lust. The speaker is someone I've been acquainted with for years, but I can never remember his name when I run into him. This is probably because I have always unconsciously thought of him as meat and not a person. For the first few minutes of his share, I kept sharing at the hole in the crotch of his jeans rather than listening. I had to try very hard to redirect my attention, but I did it. I could relate to his share on a number of levels and it made me realize that he was, in fact, a whole human being with thoughts and feelings. I don't think I'll have trouble remembering his name in the future.
The only solution to the problem, I think, is prayer. I think I'm going to try praying to my H.P. before each meeting to help me hear the message. I think this is a good idea, but it came from my mind and is therefore suspect by default. This idea came from the same brain that sees Ultimate Fighting Championship on television and says, "I could totally do that!" I have to remember to talk to my sponsor and other alcoholics about my ideas before putting them into action, because my alcoholic mind can make delusional, self-serving or just plain horrendously bad ideas seem like good ones. I don't, at this time, see any harm in using prayer in this way. It may or may not help, but I don't think it could hurt to try. My sponsor might see something in my motives that I don't, so I'll run it by her tomorrow when we go over my Step One work.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Returning to work, or at least trying to
Today I was scheduled to return to work after three weeks of medical leave. Since neither my G.P. nor my gastroenterologist had returned my phone calls, I assumed that there was no pressing need for me to remain on leave. I woke up at 4:45 in the morning, got ready, left the house at 5:30, caught my bus, and arrived on campus at 6:50, ten minutes before I was scheduled to start work. Early for once. I was the first to arrive. Over the next two hours, coworkers and my supervisor welcomed me back. It wasn't until nine that administration called and informed my supervisor that I needed medical clearance to start work again.
I didn't get mad or frustrated. I called my doctor and the soonest can can see me is tomorrow at 7:30. Provided he gives clearance, I'll go to work after. At least I got another day off in the deal.
I stayed on campus for a while and read chapters two through four in the Big Book. It had been too long since I had read them. There's some great stuff in there. My sponsor says that sometimes she could swear that the book changes between readings. I know what she means. With the passage of time and new experiences, I understood some portions in different ways than I had the last time I had read them.
One thing that jumped out at me in Chapter 4, "We Agnostics", is the discussion about faith in science. One thing its authors did not appear to be aware of, and which would further strengthen their case, is that nothing can be proven in science. We design theories that fit the available data, generate hypotheses and test these hypotheses. A positive result strengthens the case for the theory, never proves it. In mathematics, geometry and logic, statements can be proven only insofar as we accept the underlying axioms. Axioms are unprovable and untestable; they are articles of faith. Axioms are accepted because they seem to make sense and they are useful for discussing phenomena. We cannot even prove or disprove the that a number is equal to itself! Even this seemingly self-evident assumption has been the source of much debate among mathematicians. There are theoretical spaces based on different axioms, including ones in which a number is not equal to itself, that give rise to different mathematical laws. These might be useful in some applications. The point is that without axioms, or articles of faith, we cannot meaningfully discuss anything.
To me, the steps are like a scientific experiment. The existence of my H.P. is an axiom that I accept as an article of faith. The alternatives, an axiom in which there is no H.P. or no axiom at all, leave me without hope of recovering from my powerlessness over my alcohol, which I have tried on my own to no avail. The remainder of Step Two, that this H.P. will restore me to sanity, is a theory based on my axiom. The 9th Step Promises are a set of hypotheses and operational variables that spell out how sanity will be measured for the purpose of the experiment. By performing Steps Three through Nine, I do the experiment. The Promises coming true in my life strengthen the theory in Step Two. Now this isn't entirely scientific, because the variables are too vague and I can only perform this experiment on myself - an egregious ethical violation in a true scientific experiment. Not to mention that the placebo effect can't be ruled out. How does one compare against a placebo 12-Step group? But as far as I'm concerned, whether it's a placebo or my H.P. doesn't matter (both are matters of faith and their effects indistinguishable). My quality of life improves, in terms of how I feel, when I do the steps. It gets worse when I don't. I prefer to believe it's my H.P. at work.
Oh yes, my gastroenterologist did finally call this afternoon. I don't have Crohn's disease. With this new information, it's likely my GP will give me clearance to return to work. I will just have to hang in there until we find a treatment and/or diagnosis that works. That's all for now.
I didn't get mad or frustrated. I called my doctor and the soonest can can see me is tomorrow at 7:30. Provided he gives clearance, I'll go to work after. At least I got another day off in the deal.
I stayed on campus for a while and read chapters two through four in the Big Book. It had been too long since I had read them. There's some great stuff in there. My sponsor says that sometimes she could swear that the book changes between readings. I know what she means. With the passage of time and new experiences, I understood some portions in different ways than I had the last time I had read them.
One thing that jumped out at me in Chapter 4, "We Agnostics", is the discussion about faith in science. One thing its authors did not appear to be aware of, and which would further strengthen their case, is that nothing can be proven in science. We design theories that fit the available data, generate hypotheses and test these hypotheses. A positive result strengthens the case for the theory, never proves it. In mathematics, geometry and logic, statements can be proven only insofar as we accept the underlying axioms. Axioms are unprovable and untestable; they are articles of faith. Axioms are accepted because they seem to make sense and they are useful for discussing phenomena. We cannot even prove or disprove the that a number is equal to itself! Even this seemingly self-evident assumption has been the source of much debate among mathematicians. There are theoretical spaces based on different axioms, including ones in which a number is not equal to itself, that give rise to different mathematical laws. These might be useful in some applications. The point is that without axioms, or articles of faith, we cannot meaningfully discuss anything.
To me, the steps are like a scientific experiment. The existence of my H.P. is an axiom that I accept as an article of faith. The alternatives, an axiom in which there is no H.P. or no axiom at all, leave me without hope of recovering from my powerlessness over my alcohol, which I have tried on my own to no avail. The remainder of Step Two, that this H.P. will restore me to sanity, is a theory based on my axiom. The 9th Step Promises are a set of hypotheses and operational variables that spell out how sanity will be measured for the purpose of the experiment. By performing Steps Three through Nine, I do the experiment. The Promises coming true in my life strengthen the theory in Step Two. Now this isn't entirely scientific, because the variables are too vague and I can only perform this experiment on myself - an egregious ethical violation in a true scientific experiment. Not to mention that the placebo effect can't be ruled out. How does one compare against a placebo 12-Step group? But as far as I'm concerned, whether it's a placebo or my H.P. doesn't matter (both are matters of faith and their effects indistinguishable). My quality of life improves, in terms of how I feel, when I do the steps. It gets worse when I don't. I prefer to believe it's my H.P. at work.
Oh yes, my gastroenterologist did finally call this afternoon. I don't have Crohn's disease. With this new information, it's likely my GP will give me clearance to return to work. I will just have to hang in there until we find a treatment and/or diagnosis that works. That's all for now.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
An unhealthy "relationship"
In the past few days, I have had a series of revelations regarding how I approach romantic relationships. The pattern is this: I meet someone who sets off the Husband Alarm in my head (a trait inherited from my Jewish maternal line) and I kick into gear. I manipulate, plot and connive until I've got him in my trap. Then I'm suddenly in a relationship with someone I don't know.
In October 2005, I went to the local GLBT AA clubhouse website. On the discussion board, I read a message from a man that had moved here from Back East and didn't know any other gay people in the program yet. He had eight years sober but hadn't been to any gay meetings in town yet because he was very shy. Without having met, seen or spoken to him, I decided that he would be my husband. Within weeks, we were an item.
About two months in, I found out he had lied to me about his age. I was upset because we had very specifically discussed how we both wanted a relationship based on rigorous honesty and other principles of the program. I should have ended it right there, but I didn't. At that moment, knowing about his dishonesty, I chose to continue and thus stopped being true to myself. This effectively ended my program. I stopped talking to my sponsor and doing stepwork. I went to fewer and fewer meetings. More lies came out and I looked the other way. By the time we reached our anniversary, I had found out he had lied about his job, education, heritage, economic status and a few other things. But I didn't want to give up my delusions that we had a great relationship.
We broke up this past May (on a completely unrelated issue which was mostly my fault) and I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. I was pissed off for about two days, but fine after that. I realized that the man I fell in love with didn't exist and I had no romantic feelings left for the man that did.
He harrassed me for months after the break-up. I had to change my phone number and move my primary blog to a new address because he sent threatening text messages and left nasty comments, once on my belly-button birthday. I haven't heard from him since, luckily.
I see now that I can't pick mates very well. Plotting and manipulating will not get me into healthy relationships. I need to get the hell out of the way, focus on my program and my relationship with my H.P., and not date for a year at least. I'm also not having sex until after my sexual inventory. When I do decide to have sex, I'm not going to shit where I eat by sleeping with men from the AA meetings I go to - I've gotten myself into awkward situations that way too.
I believe my H.P. wants good things for me. I believe that if I get out of the way and focus on doing the next right thing, eventually my H.P. will put the right man in my life at the right time.
In October 2005, I went to the local GLBT AA clubhouse website. On the discussion board, I read a message from a man that had moved here from Back East and didn't know any other gay people in the program yet. He had eight years sober but hadn't been to any gay meetings in town yet because he was very shy. Without having met, seen or spoken to him, I decided that he would be my husband. Within weeks, we were an item.
About two months in, I found out he had lied to me about his age. I was upset because we had very specifically discussed how we both wanted a relationship based on rigorous honesty and other principles of the program. I should have ended it right there, but I didn't. At that moment, knowing about his dishonesty, I chose to continue and thus stopped being true to myself. This effectively ended my program. I stopped talking to my sponsor and doing stepwork. I went to fewer and fewer meetings. More lies came out and I looked the other way. By the time we reached our anniversary, I had found out he had lied about his job, education, heritage, economic status and a few other things. But I didn't want to give up my delusions that we had a great relationship.
We broke up this past May (on a completely unrelated issue which was mostly my fault) and I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. I was pissed off for about two days, but fine after that. I realized that the man I fell in love with didn't exist and I had no romantic feelings left for the man that did.
He harrassed me for months after the break-up. I had to change my phone number and move my primary blog to a new address because he sent threatening text messages and left nasty comments, once on my belly-button birthday. I haven't heard from him since, luckily.
I see now that I can't pick mates very well. Plotting and manipulating will not get me into healthy relationships. I need to get the hell out of the way, focus on my program and my relationship with my H.P., and not date for a year at least. I'm also not having sex until after my sexual inventory. When I do decide to have sex, I'm not going to shit where I eat by sleeping with men from the AA meetings I go to - I've gotten myself into awkward situations that way too.
I believe my H.P. wants good things for me. I believe that if I get out of the way and focus on doing the next right thing, eventually my H.P. will put the right man in my life at the right time.
A metaphor
I just got home from a great meeting. I don't remember much of the reading that was used as the topic, but it got me thinking about choices.
The way I see it, my program is like a house. My Higher Power helps me build and mantain the house. As long as I keep doing the next right thing, my H.P.'s will for me, the house will be structurally sound. This allows me to have an infinite number of choices. I can decorate the house in any way I wish. I can pick out the furniture, paint it whatever colors I want, hang the pictures I like, rearrange it all at any time, depending on my mood and preferences. All I have to do is a few simple things to keep the house habitable and up to code.
Before my relapse, I neglected the house and it fell into disrepair. The roof leaked and the rain ruined the carpets. I changed the carpet but it kept getting ruined. The walls became infested with termites. I repainted the walls to disguise the damage, but the walls continued getting eaten. By ignoring the problems, I only made things worse. Eventually my bedroom completely caved in. I finally had to acknowledge that my house was no longer fit for human habitation.
By doing stepwork, I am allowing my H.P. to help me rebuild and make the house livable again. A lot of work needs to be done, but the house is salvageable. By building on the portions of the house that weren't completely destroyed, my H.P. and I can create a beautiful, structurally sound house. I just have to remember that it requires daily cleaning and maintenance, so that it stays that way.
I like this metaphor because I think my H.P. wants me to have a life rich with choices. If my program and my relationship with my H.P. are in order, I can enjoy simple pleasures, take on new challenges, try new things, pursue hobbies, go on adventures, follow my bliss. There are no guarantees that everything I try will pan out, but I will have the freedom to try. If they don't work out, I can learn from the experience and try something else without having to take a drink or a drug. This is one of the great gifts of sobriety for me.
The way I see it, my program is like a house. My Higher Power helps me build and mantain the house. As long as I keep doing the next right thing, my H.P.'s will for me, the house will be structurally sound. This allows me to have an infinite number of choices. I can decorate the house in any way I wish. I can pick out the furniture, paint it whatever colors I want, hang the pictures I like, rearrange it all at any time, depending on my mood and preferences. All I have to do is a few simple things to keep the house habitable and up to code.
Before my relapse, I neglected the house and it fell into disrepair. The roof leaked and the rain ruined the carpets. I changed the carpet but it kept getting ruined. The walls became infested with termites. I repainted the walls to disguise the damage, but the walls continued getting eaten. By ignoring the problems, I only made things worse. Eventually my bedroom completely caved in. I finally had to acknowledge that my house was no longer fit for human habitation.
By doing stepwork, I am allowing my H.P. to help me rebuild and make the house livable again. A lot of work needs to be done, but the house is salvageable. By building on the portions of the house that weren't completely destroyed, my H.P. and I can create a beautiful, structurally sound house. I just have to remember that it requires daily cleaning and maintenance, so that it stays that way.
I like this metaphor because I think my H.P. wants me to have a life rich with choices. If my program and my relationship with my H.P. are in order, I can enjoy simple pleasures, take on new challenges, try new things, pursue hobbies, go on adventures, follow my bliss. There are no guarantees that everything I try will pan out, but I will have the freedom to try. If they don't work out, I can learn from the experience and try something else without having to take a drink or a drug. This is one of the great gifts of sobriety for me.
Sponsors are usually right
Last night, I spoke to my sponsor, L., and told her that I established this blog. Her response surprised me. She said that if I had enough free time for this, then I should have enough free time to finish my Step One writing. Ouch. But she was right.
The Step One writing that she had assigned me was to make two lists. On the first, she told me to list everything I was powerless over. On the second, she told me to list the consequences that occur when I try to impose my will on these things. Over the past couple of weeks, I wrote and I revisited the lists every few days, praying immediately beforehand as my sponsor had instructed. At the time of our conversation last night, I thought my lists were pretty complete. But when I prayed and looked at the lists again, I added quite a bit. I believe I saw the point of the exercise: left to my own devices, I am powerless over a lot of stuff and when I try to control them, I can fuck things up pretty badly. I realized that if I worked on these lists for a year, I would never finish them, because there is no limit to my powerlessness and unmanageability.
Another issue I talked to her about was returning to work. My three weeks of medical leave for a digestive condition is almost up. I am feeling anxiety about returning to work. When we spoke last night, I really wanted to extend my leave another three weeks. My latest course of medications hasn't changed my symptoms much, except that after working up to the maximum dosage of the antispasmodic, I have experience a reduction in the frequency and severity of cramps. I'm still going to the bathroom up to ten times a day, though usually around six. I am physically capable of working, but whether it would be good for me is another question. L. said that I should work if physically capable. Upon reflection, I have to admit she was right. I am waiting for return calls from both my GP and my gastroenterologist. As long as they don't say it's a bad idea, I will return to work Thursday.
The Step One writing that she had assigned me was to make two lists. On the first, she told me to list everything I was powerless over. On the second, she told me to list the consequences that occur when I try to impose my will on these things. Over the past couple of weeks, I wrote and I revisited the lists every few days, praying immediately beforehand as my sponsor had instructed. At the time of our conversation last night, I thought my lists were pretty complete. But when I prayed and looked at the lists again, I added quite a bit. I believe I saw the point of the exercise: left to my own devices, I am powerless over a lot of stuff and when I try to control them, I can fuck things up pretty badly. I realized that if I worked on these lists for a year, I would never finish them, because there is no limit to my powerlessness and unmanageability.
Another issue I talked to her about was returning to work. My three weeks of medical leave for a digestive condition is almost up. I am feeling anxiety about returning to work. When we spoke last night, I really wanted to extend my leave another three weeks. My latest course of medications hasn't changed my symptoms much, except that after working up to the maximum dosage of the antispasmodic, I have experience a reduction in the frequency and severity of cramps. I'm still going to the bathroom up to ten times a day, though usually around six. I am physically capable of working, but whether it would be good for me is another question. L. said that I should work if physically capable. Upon reflection, I have to admit she was right. I am waiting for return calls from both my GP and my gastroenterologist. As long as they don't say it's a bad idea, I will return to work Thursday.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Relapse
In April, I celebrated five years of sobriety. Things were going great. I had just been accepted to a masters degree program. I had a great job I enjoyed. I broke up with my boyfriend the next month, but I was still feeling pretty good about it. I had been under the care of a gastroenterologist for digestive issues, but I felt great otherwise. I had all sorts of blessings, but I forgot that it was my Higher Power's doing instead of mine. I thought I was running my life well and I was full of false pride. I was going to very few meetings, I had stopped working with a sponsor and doing steps, and I was doing no service work. I wasn't even praying.
In August, I was having problems with my jaw and my doctor prescribed soma, a muscle relaxant. Soma has a very similar effect to the one alcohol has on me. I had forgotten that, on my own, I am powerless over drugs and alcohol. I thought I could handle a prescription drug on my own and I was wrong. A twenty-day supply was gone in six.
It took me a few weeks to acknowledge to myself or anyone else that this was a relapse. I was at a 10PM meeting at the local GLBT clubhouse and we read from the 12x12 about Step Ten. I remember reading about disguising bad intentions under good ones. I realized that I had been making excuses for the relapse and that I was in denial. Immediately after the meeting, I privately spoke to a friend in the program and admitted that I had relapsed. It was the first time I had said it out loud. I also admitted that, when I honestly looked back at the past five years, the same thing had happened every time a doctor had prescribed a muscle relaxant or pain killer. Additionally, I admitted that I had used poppers (amyl nitrate) and that I justified it to myself by telling myself there is still no consensus among AA members whether poppers count as a drug. This, too, was denial, because if I am being honest with myself, I have to admit that I used them to alter my feelings and state of mind. For me (without passing judgment on what anyone else does), that is a relapse.
The next day, September 21st, I requalified at a noon meeting. It was humbling but liberating. I was finally free from the shame that I had felt about hiding my relapse. I was also finally convinced, after 13 years of coming in and going out, that I would eventually die of the disease of alcoholism and addiction if I didn't get honest and willing to do the program without reservation.
I have a new sponsor now, whom I call everyday. I pray in the morning when I wake up and at night before bed. I go to a meeting every day, sometimes two. I read the Big Book, not as often as I should probably, but regularly. I am working on Step One again. I have service commitments. I have taken every suggestion my sponsor has given me without reservation. I have a willingness I never had as a newcomer before.
There are things I could be doing better. I am not perfect, but I don't think my Higher Power wants me to be. Progress rather than perfection, right? I could be reading the Big Book and taking some time on my stepwork every day. I could be calling other alcoholics more often. I could be better at praying immediately upon waking up, rather than after I smoke, check e-mail, etc. Today I am capable of seeing the areas where I could improve and working toward those goals.
I still have a lot of the blessings I have received from the program before requalifying. I'm working on my masters degree in earnest and doing well. I still have a great job. I am on medical leave due to my digestive issues, which gives me a chance to refocus on my program. With all of the medical tests I've been through, I've found out that I'm in great health in general, though there still is no definitive cause for my symptoms yet. I am grateful enough for the good things that I am willing to accept the challenges.
I can't predict how willing I will be tomorrow. But today, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stay sober today.
In August, I was having problems with my jaw and my doctor prescribed soma, a muscle relaxant. Soma has a very similar effect to the one alcohol has on me. I had forgotten that, on my own, I am powerless over drugs and alcohol. I thought I could handle a prescription drug on my own and I was wrong. A twenty-day supply was gone in six.
It took me a few weeks to acknowledge to myself or anyone else that this was a relapse. I was at a 10PM meeting at the local GLBT clubhouse and we read from the 12x12 about Step Ten. I remember reading about disguising bad intentions under good ones. I realized that I had been making excuses for the relapse and that I was in denial. Immediately after the meeting, I privately spoke to a friend in the program and admitted that I had relapsed. It was the first time I had said it out loud. I also admitted that, when I honestly looked back at the past five years, the same thing had happened every time a doctor had prescribed a muscle relaxant or pain killer. Additionally, I admitted that I had used poppers (amyl nitrate) and that I justified it to myself by telling myself there is still no consensus among AA members whether poppers count as a drug. This, too, was denial, because if I am being honest with myself, I have to admit that I used them to alter my feelings and state of mind. For me (without passing judgment on what anyone else does), that is a relapse.
The next day, September 21st, I requalified at a noon meeting. It was humbling but liberating. I was finally free from the shame that I had felt about hiding my relapse. I was also finally convinced, after 13 years of coming in and going out, that I would eventually die of the disease of alcoholism and addiction if I didn't get honest and willing to do the program without reservation.
I have a new sponsor now, whom I call everyday. I pray in the morning when I wake up and at night before bed. I go to a meeting every day, sometimes two. I read the Big Book, not as often as I should probably, but regularly. I am working on Step One again. I have service commitments. I have taken every suggestion my sponsor has given me without reservation. I have a willingness I never had as a newcomer before.
There are things I could be doing better. I am not perfect, but I don't think my Higher Power wants me to be. Progress rather than perfection, right? I could be reading the Big Book and taking some time on my stepwork every day. I could be calling other alcoholics more often. I could be better at praying immediately upon waking up, rather than after I smoke, check e-mail, etc. Today I am capable of seeing the areas where I could improve and working toward those goals.
I still have a lot of the blessings I have received from the program before requalifying. I'm working on my masters degree in earnest and doing well. I still have a great job. I am on medical leave due to my digestive issues, which gives me a chance to refocus on my program. With all of the medical tests I've been through, I've found out that I'm in great health in general, though there still is no definitive cause for my symptoms yet. I am grateful enough for the good things that I am willing to accept the challenges.
I can't predict how willing I will be tomorrow. But today, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stay sober today.
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