I told Christine that I had just experienced the “move from hell.” She said, “Your last move was ‘the move from hell’ wasn’t it?” Which is kind of true, but also made me feel like my horrible moves are somehow my fault. As if I don’t have the moxie to pack my own belongings, or the strength to navigate flights of narrow stairs while juggling breakables. Like I’m fabricating these hellish, move-a-day outcomes to make a better story.

 

I had this idea to get cute photos of me perched on boxes for this blog. That crazy Mare – recovery on the move again!  But after the fortieth trip up three flights of stairs to get my hanging clothes, I didn’t have the heart for it. So there are no pictures of before and after. Suffice to say I am relocated. And I look like I used to look when I stayed out late drinking and fell down a lot.

 

The offending daybed, now in a garage…

 

I had help…

And it’s not like I had to do it all myself. I had a moving company for the heaviest lifting. But I am sitting here with a body full of bruises and a head full of horror stories to tell. Come on, who has a 4 to 6 hour estimated move take 12 hours? Who has the smiling waif of a moving boy drop 500 pounds of wooden cabinet on the cement stairs and break it into pieces?

 

And who stage manages two enormous, decorative “key pieces” of furniture out of the bell tower of a refurbished church, only to have them founder on the impenetrable entranceway of the new apartment (ne historic home). And what does one do when the movers (after trying two stairways and twisting the furniture every which way but loose) look at you and say, “We don’t know what to tell you lady, but this won’t fit and we can’t put it back on the truck.” At that point, I was tired of sweet talking, cajoling and demanding. I just didn’t care. But, it’s not like putting a rickety end table at the curb for someone to dumpster dive.

 

These pieces of furniture are so large and unwieldy you need, well, a moving truck to move them. Luckily, my new landlord owns cattycorner mansions. I mustered enough charm to negotiate temporary space in his garage across the street, and got Niles and Clem to carry my behemoths to yet another location.

 

Unpacking the shot glass collection and all those flasks, again…

And why my friends do I keep packing and moving my shot glass collection? Hoisting box after box of brandy snifters and my Grandfather’s Waterford sherry flutes? And why can’t I just throw away those gag cocktail napkins, whiskey flasks and the wine glass that holds an entire bottle? I don’t think there’s any nostalgia for the days when I carried a wine goblet like an affectation. So why not toss the alcoholic’s accouterments?

 

I’d like to say this is my final move. That I will never move again. But the truth is, this move is just the next step in my resurrection/recovery (I have a fireplace!). There will be moves in the future and more stories to tell. But I need that neat, little book by the Asian woman who helps people all over the world organize their dross (keep/give away/throw away). I need to keep only those things that “bring me joy”.

 

Which reminds me, it does not bring me joy to schlep all those extra wooden hangers and the throw pillows that keep multiplying. And for God sake Marilyn, you will not be hosting a martini buffet anytime soon, so give away the martini glasses. Give them away. They do not bring you joy…

 

Today I’m not drinking, because I am moving again and keeping only those things that make me blissful…

How come you’re not drinking?

E2E I hope you are finding joy…

The post Moving the Shot Glass Collection Again… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I was walking with someone new to recovery this week. My mother gave me a pink canister of pepper spray for Easter, so I feel safer early morning Grand Rapids. We start out at dawn and some of the back streets are dark.

Bitter Pill to Suck On…

There is a look people have when they first get sober. Contemplative, as if they are harkening back to the “good ole drinking days.” Or thinking long and hard about a life without the one thing that has fully occupied them for so long. In my case it was top-of-mind, an affectation like a walking stick or a smoking jacket that I wore for twenty years.

When you think about it, that’s a bitter pill to suck on. I actually had people ask me what I’d “be like” when I said I was going to quit drinking. As if my biting wit was going to go down the drain with the last of the booze in the cupboard.  As if wine was a part of my personality. And when I started writing this blog a couple of years ago, I couldn’t find a single photo of me without my usual prop – a wine glass spilling chard over the edge – and a hazy smile…

Empathy thy name is Mare…

If I were being honest, I’d have to say I have forgotten a lot of the edginess and unpredictability of early recovery. I am reminded daily, as I work at an Addiction Treatment Center, but I haven’t felt the desire to get drunk for a while. Nor have I had the punch-in-the-gut triggers I used to get at the weirdest times. A snippet of a song, an airport, a photo of the azure Bahamas, passing a familiar restaurant and reading the word “BAR” on the marque, a squirrel running into the road in front of my car. Bam! Drink! I can TASTE it! Who would know?

Kindness and a bit of superstition

As many times as I hear it and understand the positive spin, I do not buy the statement “you are not your addiction.” So much of what I am now is because of my addiction. In spite of my alcoholism. I am a totally different person now – a better person. And as much as I crow about my paucity of emotional triggers, I am a bit superstitious of those out-of-the-blue cravings I used to get… I kind of am my addiction – in a good way, if that makes sense…

So, to answer my own question, feeling “with” someone does not require active sensation. It does not demand that I crave alcohol. It only requires kindness and the ability to remember enough about how it felt to be new to sobriety, to understand its unique demands.

The post Have I Forgotten What It’s Like to be New to Sobriety? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

 To help them escape when they’re blue?

In the old musical Camelot, Guinevere sings a little ditty about being sad. I can’t remember why she’s sad – something to do with cuckolding her husband and a war raging… Anyway, she is feeling blue, which is an unfamiliar sensation, and together with the king she warbles the heartfelt (yet condescending) question, “What do the simple folk do?” It is clear she doesn’t know how to handle the pedestrian feelings she’s feeling. Dance a fiery dance? Whistle for a spell?

“Simple folk,” or in my case sober folk, don’t have a panacea for sorrow or life’s difficulties. They just have to live them. After four years of sobriety, this fact is still a bitter pill for me to swallow. Figuratively speaking.

Not the best sober day…

Yesterday was not a great day for me. The internet was down in the office and my apartment after a big storm. My phone is doing something weird with my car – both of them smart as whips, but not speaking to each other at the moment. I felt distant from the world. On top of that, I had to make a personnel change at work. I think I have the reputation of being like Scrooge with the Muppets (“Our pens are turning to inkcicles…”), but there is nothing worse than dealing that kind of blow to another human being.

I found myself at a too-cool-for-school coffee shop on Lyon Street feeling weird. There is no other way to describe it. Just weird and disconnected and a bit annoyed, drinking a cup of coffee I didn’t want. My laptop was spitting out the news of the world, but I still didn’t feel a part of it all… It didn’t occur to me until this morning, that I was feeling:

1. Compassion

and

2. Separation

and

3. Inconvenience

Looking for the “simple” solution…

These were all reasonable sensations under the circumstances. It is clear I am still a bit rusty when it comes to dealing responsibly with the inevitable peccadillos of sober life. And why not? For twenty years I used alcohol to deaden my surprisingly sensitive nature. My beloved brother got leukemia and needed my bone morrow? Drink a liter of wine. My husband got fired? Run out for the biggest bottle of sweet and cheap I could find. Divorce? Wow – wine comes in screw caps – you can start drinking on the way home! Feeling socially anxious at the party? Queue up at the open bar!

I could go on. But the point, is that part of living this sober life is experiencing sorrow, discomfort and annoyance without using anything to deaden the feeling. There is no simple solution or someone I can pay to suffer on my behalf.

But, there is also great joy. And there is something to be said for accountability. I felt a bit ragged yesterday, but this morning when I woke up I felt fully responsible for my actions and okay with it all. The internet is working. The rain has stopped. And the fact is, in recovery, we do whistle or dance or hike or drink a cup of coffee when the going gets tough.

The momentary unease is a small price to pay for the simple, sober life.

The complicated sober life…

The post What Do the Sober Folk Do? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

Did anyone else see a befuddled Warren Beatty ignoring his better judgment last night at the Oscars? The entire world watched as he looked down at the red envelope, seemed confused, looked to a clueless audience for divine counsel and relinquished the decision to reveal the winner of the “Best Picture” award to Faye Dunaway.  Faye, with complete confidence (which was what Warren was desperately seeking), skimmed the card, skipped over the words “Emma Stone” and announced the only thing left that made sense, “La La Land!” Which was wrong. Moonlight was the actual winner…

After that, there was pandemonium on stage as the wrong people gave acceptance speeches and the right folks sat in their seats. Flushed clerks rushed in from backstage. Out of the kerfuffle came a voice of reason, and while we all watched with hands over our mouths, La La Land producer Jordon Horowitz let the Moonlight cast and crew know they had won. It was not a joke. There was a moment when everyone was on stage. The correct people took the Oscars out of the hands of the duped apologetically.  Warren stood in the middle of the fray with a ghastly smile. The host, Jimmy Kimmel, took full responsibility. And a wrong was righted. Sort of.

What’s done is done…

I’m not sure why I am feeling like it’s Warren Beatty’s fault. I mean what about Price Waterhouse, with that suitcase their snooty representative sports, chained to his arm? As if he’d sooner lose a limb than allow the envelopes with the indisputable winners of the Oscars to fall into the wrong hands. As if PwC staff are incapable of human error. What about Faye Dunaway, who vaporized after announcing the wrong winner?

But why, I wonder, in a rather loose Academy Awards, where it would have been cool to say, “Um, this envelope seems to contain results we already gave out…” did an old trooper like Mr. Beatty freeze? I call it “ignoring your better judgment”. Something alcoholics know all about. You could see it on his face. A desperate need to understand, to make things right and then – against his gut – capitulation. Hoping for the best, even though he knew it was going to end badly.

The whole thing reminds me of you when you were drinking…

Kim called me this morning and she said the whole mess reminded her of something I would have done when I was drinking. And she’s right. But I probably wouldn’t have cared. Or remembered. And I would have disappeared long before old Faye hightailed it into the safety of the wings.  Now that I’m sober (and after Kim reminded me of what a lout I used to be), I thought about the lessons that could be learned from last night’s Oscar debacle. Good advice for those who are new to sobriety. Good advice for all of us.

What I Learned from Warren Beatty last night:

1. Do Not Ignore Your Better Judgment: Come on – we learned this in self defense class – if it feels weird, wrong or icky – it is. Look behind you.
2. Have a Contingency Plan: Do not assume that everything is going to go according to plan “A”.  If you have unearthed yourself from obscurity to give an award in front of 7 zillion people, double and triple check what to do in case of an emergency.
3. Take Responsibility: There were a few people who stood there and took it like troopers last night. Humor and good grace are always helpful in difficult situations. And so is a partner who pulls her weight…
4. Apologize: It was really unfair to the Moonlight folks to win the highest award in such a shabby way. They deserved a heart felt apology from everyone involved.
5. What’s Done is Done: If disaster befalls, even after following the four steps above, let it go. (And do not, under any circumstances, look at your Twitter account).

The post Ignoring Your Better Judgment or What’s Done is Done, Warren… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I was sitting in the dry cleaner’s parking lot yesterday and my young friend Ellie called me. I don’t hear from her much these days. It feels like there is something missing in my life, like I forgot the pearls I was going to wear on the kitchen table. Or  there is a needful thing in the pocket of a coat I left hanging in the closet. It’s not like I ruminate all the time. But occasionally, I get hit with the thought, “Oh. After all the things we tried, all the effort and prayer, we lost. We lost the girls…”

Things Happen…

I hate when that happens. Anyway, Ellie (who is attempting to make the best of her lot) called yesterday. She said she had been worried about me. She reads the blog, and because she hadn’t seen anything new for a week, she thought something was wrong. This is a person who has learned early in life (cover your eyes Ellie) that shit happens. She has learned to protect her interests. So she, more than anyone I can think of, would notice if someone important to her goes off the grid.

Ellie says there is no Thanksgiving tomorrow where she lives. Her voice sounded flat. She and I have a strong connection. We’ve both been through a lot; and both of us have been influenced by her dad. We both know what alcoholism can do to a family and how it’s possible (with love and hard work) to get it back. Ellie reminded me that one of the important things in recovery (and in life) is accountability.  Community. She reminded me that if you fill your life with folks who wonder where you are – when you don’t turn up – you have a much better chance at staying sober. And a much happier, healthier life.

It’s Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving. And so I want to remind you Ellie, that I notice when I do not hear from you. That I hold you accountable to our friendship and our love. And that even though you do not have a Thanksgiving where you are, I am THANKFUL for you. I am thankful for your sister Evie. I am better for knowing both of you…

And since I am feeling thankful, I want to thank the community that has built up around this blog. For the laughs, the struggles, the prayers, the support, the love and the accountability.

Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving.

And for fun:

The Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past…

The post Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You (for Ellie)… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I have a confession to make: I am a little afraid to go back to The Bahamas. It’s the land of “wine for breakfast” and “every day’s a holiday,” after all. I was looking through some old photographs this weekend, and I was back in Blue Heaven – I could smell the rust and salt. Having to leave Staniel Cay is the one regret I have trouble putting to rights in my (oh so) sober head. Dee says I would have died if I’d stayed and she’s probably right, but what a way to go: sky and sea so blue, it’s like being inside a prism…

About a year after I left The Bahamas and when I started posting blogs to Facebook, a woman named Marty wrote to me from Staniel. It was one of those Facebook private messages and she said she had been worried about me the whole time I was living in the islands. She could see, even on the “Island of the Lotus Eaters“, that I was in trouble with alcohol. I give her credit for not approaching me like the Jehovah’s Witness missionaries who ventured onto my deck, heaven-bent on saving me from myself. I would not have listened. I would have said something mean.

I found out Marty had been sober, and a big proponent of AA for more than 30 years. Imagine the strength of that – living someplace where it is common to see people of all walks, on the public dock at 7 AM with beers in hand. Where the main source of entertainment is drinking and smoking pot (and boating and vacationing and snorkeling and island hopping and golf-carting: all under the influence). Where there are no 12 Step meetings.

Marty’s invited me to come see her. I think I might. Next year: maybe I’ll be ready next year…

Today I’m not drinking because I’m going back to The Bahamas (some day) and I want to look really good (and not drive my golf cart onto the decorative rock in front of the yacht club…)

The post Sober in The Bahamas? Really? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I suppose it is simplistic to say that addiction impacts one’s quality of life. When I was pounding chardonnay, I found it hard to negotiate or associate or relate (at the risk of sounding like Jesse Jackson) to anything but the next drink. It’s as if my periphery narrowed; life was lived within the confines of a wine glass…

One of the joys of sobriety is experiencing the simple things. The beautifully mundane act of being there for your own life. On Monday, I did four simple, sober things that I would never have been able to do in the old, drinking days and I want to take a moment to be grateful for how uncomplicated my days and nights have become.

4 Simple Sober Things

1. I dealt with the apartment handyman – He is one of those defensive types who always says, “I’ve been so busy,” in answer to any ignored maintenance request. My microwave died and also, for two weeks I have come into the building to find an unsightly, spackled wall – prepared for, but not painted. I sent in a maintenance request for both items and on Monday I ran into the building to get my phone and Brad was on a ladder painting the offending wall. He said, “Are you the microwave?”

If I were drinking, this personification would have set me off, and I would have said something like, “No. I am not the microwave, but I have a broken microwave,” causing Brad to hate me. I just smiled (without irony) and said, “Yes.”

He said, “We’ll get in there and take a look today. And I’m sorry about the wall, but I’ve been so busy and I didn’t think anyone would have a problem with it.”

Okay – I’m getting a little worked up here, because the wall is thirty feet tall, the first thing you see when you walk in the door from the parking lot, and it had about fifty splotches of spackle on it for two weeks. White on taupe. Everyone in the whole world would have a problem with it. But, I just said, “Okay. Thanks.” I was not snide. I did not feel the need to make Brad hate his life. Yay.

2. I drove for 4 hours in the middle of the day – I probably could have done this while I was in active addiction, but I would have taken a roadie. There would be a few shooters in the glove box, or I would stop near the end of the trip for a screw cap bottle and I would have drunk it in the car. While driving 80 MPH on the highway.

3. I made an impromptu visit to my mom – I don’t think there’s an alcoholic out there who has a good relationship with their mother. It was just nice to be in the neighborhood, stop in and see my mother for a couple hours and have nothing else to say about it. No drama. Yay.

4. I met with the manager of the Collegiate Recovery Program at the University of Michigan – Now I can say I went to U of M, right? I will tell you more about that in another post, but it goes without saying (even though I’m saying it) that it is remarkable I am able to connect with the head of a program who helps acclimate students in recovery after treatment and monitors and educates those who are living life on campus sober.

It’s the little things. The simple things.

Thank God.

The post 4 Simple Sober Things first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I have heard that the best way to get acclimated after moving to a new city is to “overbook” all the interesting things that have been suggested for you to do. The theory is that you are so busy, you forget to be lonely and you meet new people and can always cut out the things that don’t intrigue you after you have developed a fabulous, interesting social life. I am not an overbooker. But, I do not want to spend the rest of my days in Grand Rapids sighing happily and looking up at the rafters in my apartment (although I am a little too thrilled to be ensconced in my church garret). I tend to isolate, and hard as it is for me, when you are new to a city you have to make some of the first moves. I kind of hate the expression “reach out”, but that is what I am trying to do.

I can’t decide if I’m lazy or introverted, but reaching out is not easy for me. I have made a list of meetings and events, stores, museums, gyms, cultural volunteer organizations and interesting parts of town to explore. I have passed an art gallery several times when they had openings going on and said aloud, “I have to get on their mailing list.” But it seems like I fall back on long hikes (good) and holing-up (bad).

So I’ve decided I am going to overbook. And since I am in recovery, I will explore a variety of meetings, organizations and programs designed to keep people sober in Grand Rapids. I work for an addiction treatment center, but that doesn’t necessarily count in keeping me sober – we spend time working on the sobriety of others and there is certainly some opportunity for self-analysis in the process, but it would be inappropriate to sob out my troubles in the middle of a group I am heading (that is only an example, I am not inclined to “sob out” in any event, but you get what I mean…).

I headed for a get-together on Friday: new girl, late, lost and out of gas. I stopped to throw enough petrol in the car to get me to the meeting where my new friend Jan, was waiting and somehow, as I pulled the spigot out of the tank it sort of erupted like Old Faithful and gas splashed all over my pants. I am not exaggerating. The thing to have done, had I an extra half hour, which I didn’t, was to go home put my pants in a hazardous waste container, throw them in the dumpster and take a shower. Instead, I drove to the building where the meeting was being held and went in.

So, here I am, brand new to the town and trying to make friends and influence people and I arrive late, smelling like I crawled out from under a repair job in a grease pit. I don’t know how many self-help meetings you’ve attended, but there is always hugging involved. People get close. They hold hands. They smoke…

I can’t say my foray into “reaching out” was a smashing success, but I did go walking on Saturday with the Riverside Ramblers and I did get on the mailing list for the gallery. I think next Friday evening, I should spritz my L’Eau d’Issey behind my ears and redeem myself (if anyone will stand next to me)….

The post Sobriety is a Gas… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I re-watched Anonymous People last night. Is it just me or does it need an update?

It reminded me of the conversations I have had recently with folks who are new to sobriety and full of piss and vinegar. They talk about how they plan to tell the world they are sober and proud. I always say, “Make sure you think it through before you get all chatty about your recovery. Not everybody needs to write a blog.” As you all know, I am an open book, but at this stage of the game I don’t have a lot to lose. As someone said to me on Friday, “You are exempt.”

I work in a treatment center, I am almost three years sober and I write about all the naughty things I did while I was drunk. It’s like queue-jumping; before anyone can say anything bad about me, I sneak right in and say it myself. However, when you decide to post your 60 day sober anniversary on Facebook, think twice. Or get a second opinion. Especially those of you who are young and not independently wealthy.

Later, when you apply for that job, or make a career decision that is not conducive to speaking up about your addiction, you might be sorry you were so open. I wish it were not so.

In 2012, William L. White said, “[There are] …millions of people who would not be recognized as individuals in recovery, until someone challenges this vanguard who are in the unique circumstances that allow them to confront the stigma that they will confront when they step forward and put a face and voice on recovery. That vanguard has begun…”

Four years later, things have changed for the better – there is more dialogue, more acceptance of those in recovery from addiction. But not enough. We still need to make a conscious decision whether we are prepared to confront the stigma and join the vanguard.

The post Are You Anonymous? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

You probably already know this, but some guys use Facebook as a dating site. I get Facebook requests for “Friends” and notes from strangers who think my profile picture is “pretty” all the time. I used to agree to all takers for “Friend requests”, thinking I had met them in an online alcohol group or through this blog. I was hoping to expand my readership.

But all you have to do is misstep once with a Facebook friend and you are wary ever after. Closing one’s eyes, pushing the “accept” and trusting the universe is never wise. Especially considering there are 1.2 billion active Facebook users and it only stands to reason there are probably a few who do not have the discrete sensibilities and Facebook decorum you expect from your posse.

What happens with a friend mistake is one of three things:

• You are inundated with political conviction
• You find a tagged advertisement (or ten) for beauty unguents on your personal page
• You suddenly see every photo that has ever been posted of yourself on your Facebook feed (including your profile pic) go by with the chirpy words, “Hot girl!” or “When are we getting together?” penned by your new friend. So you unfriend him and stop the madness.

I was checking the stats on one of our posts yesterday and I had a private FB message that said, “U there boss?” The author’s photograph shows him pouting into an obvious selfie with a gold headband (a la Tupac) and large, primitive beads around his neck – there are library books on high shelves behind him. I did a little research and he is already a friend although I do not remember making his acquaintance (perhaps it was done in the same white wine, memory-black-hole in which I bought an English Bulldog puppy on line…). He is from Gambia.

For some reason I liked the message so I said, “Yup.” I figured that was in keeping with the short but sweet question he had posed.

What came next was a series of thumbs up graphics and questions where the word “you” was spelled “U” as in “U miss on line why” – a sentence I did not, for the life of me, know how to answer.

I was having fun with it, he is apparently an artist and some sort of cultural attaché… until he said, “U can visit me over here.”

In GAMBIA? That’s the problem with sobriety. It makes you practical. And wary of “friends” offering to show you their childrens’ library in far away places… I am laughing as I type this because there was a time in my life (not too long ago) when I would think nothing of pursuing this endangerment.  Kim and Dee would be on the phone together saying, “Oh God – now she’s bought a first class ticket to Gambia …” 

And I’d be up for the adventure. No thought of the consequences. But here I sit thinking I have too much to do to give this little diversion more than the ten minutes of my life already spent. That’s the beauty of sobriety: the checks and balances, the appropriate level of caution. The practicality. Although, I don’t think I’ll unfriend him yet…

I had a message all the way from Gambia this morning. It said, “Morning U beautiful girl.”

I’ll bet he says that to all his “Friends”…

The post My (Short-Lived) Sober Facebook Love Affair first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.