I got the most gorgeous email from DZ a couple of weeks ago. Gorgeous because the voice was so raw. And the picture she painted so vivid I could actually taste cheap white wine. DZ was in the middle of a craving that was “surging up and down her solar plexus and choking her out”. She said no amount of exercise, candy or visits with friends was taking the edge off. She wrote to ask how I handled early sobriety cravings (candy, exercise, visits with friends…).

The Way We See Ourselves…

DZ had just moved. She said in her new, downtown apartment there were temptations everywhere…. A Mexican restaurant, live music, bars and drinking, drinking, drinking.  And it made me think about how, in early recovery, we try to shake things up. Move outside of ourselves. Avoid the people, places and things that remind us of those boozy nights on the tiki-hut, the sky so loaded with stars it’s silver and everything below is a bruised blur…

It’s good to get away from a toxic environment. But, what if our thoughts about ourselves are toxic? And the relapses, pitfalls, transfer addictions and loathsome behavior are self-fulfilling prophecies? There is no question DZ was in the middle of a hate-fest, begging her “know-better self” to give her just one night.

 “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.” Thomas Theorem

For someone who is new to recovery, there is a lot to hate. And fear. DZ says it best:

Just one night. It’ll inspire you to unpack and organize and get used to your new… That’s what I don’t want to do. Get used to it and let the paranoid, self-loathing, unkempt drunk out. Down will go my boundaries and into my new apartment I will bring the undesirables… I will be afraid to call maintenance because I reek of a 3 day binge. I’ll have given every user in my building the green light without remembering, during one of my multiple trips to the garbage chute. Because much as I love to drink alone, the clumsier and uglier I get the more of a showoff I become…

Self-Fulfilling Prophecies…

I’ve read the above paragraph a dozed times. Clumsy, ugly, reek, garbage – it takes me back to my first sober days. When I tried to convince myself that life without alcohol was boring. When I was angry and resentful. And when instead of slugging the cheapest wine I could find, I secretly gorged on 4 for $5 boxes of Walgreens candy (if an all-night drug store could talk). Was I filling the empty hole or giving myself what I thought I deserved?

I still think of myself as someone who has an “addictive personality” even though I know that is not even a “thing”. And five years sober, I don’t have cravings for wine anymore, but I identify as someone with an unhealthy relationship to food. Maybe even more than as a person who is in good physical condition and hikes for miles, up hills.

Now I am wondering if these negative thoughts are shaping my actions…

Thomas Theorem

Thomas Theorem goes on to say that “the interpretation of a situation causes the action.… Actions are affected by subjective perceptions of situations…. ” Even when the perception is wrong.

So, if DZ sees herself as the woman in apartment 207 who spends a lot of time at the garbage chute, drunk and disorderly – or as the lonely woman salivating with her nose pressed against the window of a Mexican restaurant – maybe it will happen.

The Power of Positive Thinking is the Good News

I like it when my blog is formatted like getting fired. I start with something good (gorgeous email), sandwich the icky stuff in the middle (shit…. I’m making myself  eat 3 pints of Halo Top ice cream with my thoughts...) and end with the good news (positive thinking trumps negative thinking – but it takes time).

DZ is new to the sobriety game. I hate to say it, but it took two years before I stopped getting regular punch-in-the-gut cravings to DRINK. And a solid four years before I started getting a picture in my mind’s eye of a hiking trail instead of the brightly colored candy isle at Walgreens whenever it rained on a Sunday and I felt lonely…

This:

Not This:

Also, DZ emailed to say that she had “written herself out” of the craving and she was okay. I am going to imagine her in her new apartment, meeting desirable neighbors and visiting the garbage chute only when she has garbage to throw away – not when she is lonely…

And I am going to imagine her, two years from now, climbing a hill, writing in a journal or eating Mexican food with a gassy water chaser. She’ll be thinking about how proud she is of her accomplishments. And feeling like she’s fine – just fine – right where she is.

How’s that for a self-fulfilling prophecy?

How’s that for positive thinking?

The post Recovery Pitfalls – Are They Self-Fulfilling Prophecies? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I think it makes sense that 50% of people who have eating disorders also have a co-occurring substance use disorder. I used to fall asleep with the remains of my wine glass on my night stand. Now, it’s often a cute little bin of ICE CUBES gum, or the remains of my soupçon of TV watching, comfort food. Eat, drink, binge, guzzle – I always seem to take things to extremes…

I hate when that happens…

But, I’m not alone. So, when I am eating a bag of those unsalted pretzels stuffed with peanut butter from Trader Joe’s as I binge-watch Anne with an E on Netflix, I feel a connection.

I sat in on a great group session last week. They were talking about the connection between eating disorders and substance use disorders. One of the many interesting things the therapist, Gail Hall, said was, “The difference with eating disorders, is that you can’t just stop eating. You have to separate the eating from the behaviors.”

I never thought of that before… I wonder if it would be like trying to have just one glass of wine with dinner? That’s something I used to tell my husband or the police when they stopped me for “erratic” driving. “No, I haven’t been drinking. Just a glass of wine with dinner…” A big lie. Because, like those old Lays Potato Chip ads, I could never just have one…

The NIH has a pithy article about this subject.

The post Eat, Drink, Binge, Guzzle.. first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I bought a new pot of face cream. The package promised to “erase fine lines in a week,” which is great because it’s my birthday today and I wanted to have a wrinkle-free face by that milestone…

The Quick Fix…

I mean, I actually bought the cream – $37.99 – because the box said it would work its magic quickly. Isn’t that what we all look for? And it got me thinking. Getting sober is like standing in the Lotion and Creams isle in the drugstore. We are all looking past the seductive packaging for the quick fix.  And discounting the cause – years of self-sabotage. In my case, Bahamian sun, booze, and the inadvisable practice of not removing mascara before bed and scraping it from the tender skin below my eyes with a rough washcloth in the morning…

It got me thinking that getting sober is a lot easier than staying sober. Let’s face it –  the long-haul, drudgery of sobriety and the punch in the gut demands when the addicted brain wants what it wants, are about the least fast things one can think of. It takes a lifetime. Just ask the AA old-timers.

Imagine the packaging for the product “Sobriety in a Box” – a brightly colored parcel, a symmetrical, smiling model and the promise it’s going to “TAKE YOUR WHOLE LIFE” to get the desired results. Who’d buy that?

Getting Sober Fast…

For about half of what I paid for the face cream, I can order the book: How to Give Up Drinking Fast and Stay Sober: An Ex-Alcoholic’s Guide to Overcoming Alcohol Addiction. Or a dozen other books promising “speedy recovery.” I haven’t read any of them, but anyone who has done what we have done knows it’s not about fast. And a surefire guide? One size fits all? I don’t think so.

But no one is going to choose the book titled Staying Sober is HARD.  With the subtitle:  The chronic nature of the disease may include a relapse or two… 

We live in a world where we fix every ill, quickly, prettily, with a pill or an unguent or a Google search. No one should have to suffer unnecessarily. Or, God forbid, walk around with the ravages of a hard life etched on one’s face… We are all like Willy Wonka’s Veruca. I want it now!

Benchmarks, Wrinkles & Atta’ Girls…

It is at milestones like birthdays and sober anniversaries when a person should stop and give proper credit to themselves. For doing the hard stuff.  The things that take time and effort. And we should give ourselves a break for continuing to believe the packaging – even when we know better… although I think the face cream really did reduce my fine lines…

So, on this birthday I can say I feel pretty darned good about myself. Kim is visiting and I said to her last night, “I might be older, but I am really happy with my body.” I don’t think I have ever said that before. (Although Kim reminded me I used to vogue in the mirror and say it all the time…)

What I meant this time, was that I am happy with myself. The body that I possess is clear headed. I am wearing my size twos again because of a consistent, long-term program of rigorous exercise and healthy eating. This person I have become, after all I have been through, is present. I am here for the long haul. And stronger than ever for having eschewed easy.

And I am happy with my body and my countenance.

Wrinkles and all…

E2E – I know you are thinking of me today – I think of you every day…

The post “Buying” the Sober Life (With the Proper Packaging) first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I keep thinking about an email I got from a reader last week. Let’s call her Sharon. Her spouse is a (problem) drinker and has no intention of quitting. And the guy insists she doesn’t have a problem either.

What to do when it seems like everyone around you drinks?

Sharon has been trying for years to quit drinking and her husband keeps derailing her efforts. She asked for advice – some tips on how to deal with a man who guzzles with impunity. She said she wants to be sober – “join the revolution.” How can she get through to her husband that she’s serious about this?

First, I don’t feel very revolutionary. I just feel like a woman who used to drink too much. In fact, crawling up a bar stool from a dirty floor seems more guerrilla than my current demure behavior… But, Sharon needs advice on how to deal with the guy she committed to for better or inauspicious. And I feel like I didn’t give her the guidance she really needed.

I told her there is a difference between being around people who drink and being with someone who drinks with a “tone in their voice.” But, this is the woman’s husband. And I am well aware that telling family members not to drink around you can lead to holidays alone…

She seemed somehow resigned to her fate. I guess I’ll just drink and try to cut back… I know that’s not the answer. So what is the answer?

Marriages last longer when both parties drink too much…

I did some research on this subject, and it seems marriages are perceived “happier” and last longer when both parties over-drink.  In fact, marriages with one heavy drinker end 50% of the time and marriages where both people are big boozers end 30% of the time. That didn’t surprise me. Drunkenness loves company.

Dealing with hard drinking loved ones…

Most of my family and friends drink alcohol. I have no problem with that. But what I was trying to say to Sharon was that it seems her husband is purposely keeping her off track. And his insistence that she doesn’t have a problem and that he has no intention of quitting, closes the door on dialogue. Tricky fellow.

Whether it’s to your significant other, your mother or your best friend, a person should be able to quit drinking without explaining or capitulating.

Here are some basic rules for the new-to-non-drinker:

1. Stop explaining that “you are an alcoholic” – anyone who demands to know why you have quit drinking, or insists you don’t need to quit drinking with a “tone in their voice” is not your friend
2. Which brings me to the significant other who will not deal with their own drinking issues and wants company…
3. Set boundaries
4. I’m going to say it again – set boundaries 
5. If leaving a loved one is out of the question, there may be parties/events you do not attend or leave early (sorry if that seems like punishment for good behavior, but it’s the breaks when protecting your sobriety)
6. Suggest Al-Anon
7. Suggest counseling
8. If that does not fly, find a time when no alcohol has been drunk and ask for a serious talk – lay out the new ground rules…
9. Continue to have these talks
10. Understand that with new rules there will be new challenges and push-backs
11. Remember you are the person who is in control of your life

Does this seem too hard?

It doesn’t to me. Every recovery is unique, so the way I deal with drinkers around me might not be how you deal with drinkers. For example, I stay no longer than 3-4 hours at a party (the witching time when everyone “wants a hug” and begins to repeat themselves…). I will sit with my loved ones while they drink, but no one would dare suggest I should “just have a small one.” I do not apologize anymore. They are proud of me.

The point is – deal with it. Sharon, your husband sounds insensitive. He is certainly not thinking of you or your needs. So you will have to sit him down (see 7 above) and tell him how you intend to live the rest of your life.

No one said getting sober was easy. It’s not about sighing and going with the flow.

Maybe sobriety is a revolution…

E2E – Where in the world are you? You will always be with us…

The post Surrounded – When your Loved Ones Still Drink first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I heard from another long lost friend this week. Whenever someone from my past contacts me they say, “You just popped up on my computer.”  As if my details appear randomly in their ad column on Facebook. (Like the pair of suede boots you were checking out on Zappos that materialize in your feed for weeks after you decided the boots you have are fine.)

They go on to profess undying love (I found you) or genuine interest in what I am doing or in at least one case (well, maybe a few cases), how much they hated me in my past life.

Admit it, you Googled me…

My guess is, these visitations from the past were just sitting around one day, bored and Googled “Marilyn Spiller”. Why not say that? After all, if you search for me, the grizzly details of my alcoholism and recovery are there for all to see. The particulars of my divorce settlement and the houses I lived in are buried in the history… a treasure trove of details. I am a dog-eared, open book.

Anyway, this person wrote to me, “I spent much of Sunday evening reading your blog, and your interview and watching your video.  Could not sleep that night.  It actually triggered all sorts of contemplation.  Took me until tonight to write.  I was so taken aback by all…I feel like I should offer some words of wisdom or gestures of help or something else vague and awkward.  Anyway, I am so glad to know you are fine and living the reality of Michigan and all that brings to one’s life and soul.”

Does that sound like pity to you? Or am I being overly sensitive? I mean the guy can feel what he feels, right?  I just never thought about it before – but, I bet there are folks out there who knew me before, who feel sorry for me now. What a horrible notion.

I’ll be honest, I’d prefer you hate me than pity me.

Don’t do that…

Please don’t feel sorry for me and here’s why:

• I really was kind of a douche in my drinking days. I am a much nicer person now.
• I hurt myself a lot and fell down and made a fool of myself when I was drinking. I am careful where I sit, sleep and walk these days.
• If you’re sorry addiction happened to me, it could have been worse. A lot of people suffer more than I ever did. I didn’t kill anyone – I did not go to jail.
•  I lost some things. I have the love of many people (that former nanny still despises me, but she left in the middle of the night with my leather bomber jacket, and she was a crappy babysitter, so I don’t really care…). I am getting back all the things I need and more.
• My brain is better than ever.
• My hair is better than ever…
• After flittering around The Bahamas for 8 wasteful years (and a few years before and after), I am gainfully employed in a job I love.
• And speaking of The Bahamas, there were plenty of good times before the fall…
• I am in great physical shape.
• I have found a calling.
• I enjoy my sobriety and my life.
• After plumbing the root cause of our collective addiction, people in recovery are the strongest, most introspective and honest people on the planet – I am proud to be among that group.
• I am happy.
• I write a blog, so I always get the last word..

It’s nice to get a blast from the past, I guess…

But, I’m not really into harkening back. I have rekindled some great relationships with my childhood friends, now that I’m back in Michigan, and a few of my college pals – but that’s different. I have met some amazing people from this blog, but they understand the journey.

There are some things best left in the past. Because I’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to have to explain. Or justify. Or give a second thought to whether you pity me or not. I certainly don’t want anyone to lose sleep over me. And there is no joy in considering a reconciliation or the rebirth of romance. Been there. Done that. “To know them is to be disappointed,” to quote you…

It’s like cleaning a closet. If you haven’t worn that Moschino jacket  for ten years, it’s unlikely you’ll wear it again, even though you paid a lot for it. Best to give it away. Or throw it away…

E2E – Be careful where you sit, sleep and walk. Wish we were there to take care of you…

The post Why do I get the impression you pity me? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

My four year sober anniversary came in like a lamb. I only remembered it, because Lauren sent me a text to congratulate me.  And other than being a mother (and for a while a wife) I haven’t maintained interest in many things for four years straight, so I should have been jazzed. Maybe the milestone fizzled because I drank as a hobby and later, as an avocation, for at least ten years. So by comparison it’s small potatoes.

Or maybe it’s that my sobriety has settled…

…and I’m not dealing with those punch-in-the-gut demands to DRINK anymore. So I don’t feel so full of my sober self at this milestone. It’s been six months since the last time a Bob Marley song or a walk through an airport or the smell of Aqua di Gio Pour Homme (don’t ask) has made me crave a tall, icy glass of chardonnay. Reading the words “tall, icy glass of chardonnay” doesn’t even make me salivate.

I don’t want to negate the degree of difficulty in getting and staying sober. It is the hardest thing I have ever done. There will always be a little piece of me that feels “missing”, but I am comfortable as a sober person now. And my life is so much better, I can’t even muster the resentment I used to wear like a cheap suit, because I couldn’t swill white wine anymore. I have learned there is always a worse case scenario, always something to be grateful for.

And I do not want to drink.

I work for an addiction treatment center, so I am around folks who are new to recovery all the livelong day. And at My office, in the marketing group, we are always researching the cutting edge treatments, methods and modalities available to increase the national averages for successful long-term recovery. I have found that you really have to want to get sober. No one can do it for you. I have also found you have to be ready to slay the dragon when the words, “I’m going to drink” pop into your head at inopportune times (and they will).

Four things I know for sure about getting and staying sober:

1. You Simply Must Find a Passion (If You Are Able – Get Physical)

I am convinced that long term sobriety must contain a passionate interest in something outside of oneself. For me it has been writing and hiking. Seriously. I am still saved regularly by a comment on this blog or a rigorous walk with friends (or alone). I have started a walking group, and I can see the positive influence an early morning, city trek can make on a day in treatment.

And if the passion is physical, I think it works even better for quelling the cravings. Statistics show that rigorous exercise and challenging yourself will increase your chances for long term recovery.  Fill your hands with something and get the heart pumping. You can mountain climb, but you can also walk dogs at a rescue shelter or garden. Or for a double whammy, become a docent at an art museum and take the stairs.

Passion is defined as “strong and barely controllable emotion”.  Yes. Find that.

2. We Are All in Control of Our Own Lives

I hear from people all the time who say things like, “It was my sister’s wedding. They made me drink.” Or they might say by way of excuse, “My cousin died,” or “I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that Kid Rock concert,, but what was I going to do? I couldn’t cancel…” This “excuse-thinking” is something I can relate to. Because I did it for years. I am reminded of the plastic bag in the movie American Beauty. Born on the winds as it dances with no direction of its own.

All my drinking stories used to begin with the words “I ended up”, as if I were not responsible for crawling out of a ditch after drunkenly crashing a golf cart. My bad? The fact is, we are not pushed around by capricious winds. We are in control of our own lives. And here’s the kicker – shit still happens, temptations abound even when you are sober.

3. Nature Has the Power to Save You (God is in His Heavens…)

One of the reasons I am so passionate about hiking, is that I am humbled by what I see in nature. There is something about standing alone on Guana Reserve beach before a storm that makes me feel large and small at the same time. In my mind, it is impossible to deny the existence of God, while rustling through the Michigan Up North in Autumn. 

In the excellent book by Interventionist Jeff Jay, Navigating Grace, he describes exactly that feeling during a solitary moment on the deck of his boat. He says, “I was standing on the deck, leaning back against the shrouds, looking up into the Milky Way, musing on the Universe. Here I lived in a tumble of stars, sharp and silent as the night, a thousand visible and a billion more I couldn’t make out… …And here I was, an infinitesimal being standing on a sailboat.” Beautiful.

Jeff (who is obviously farther up the ladder to heaven than me), says he can get that feeling on a city street too, or having coffee with a friend. But it is in a natural setting, in solitude when my path becomes clear and my troubles very small by comparison. I want you to have this feeling, no matter what you believe – this epiphany that is seeing the trees and the forest.

4. Find a Way to Be Accountable to Someone or Something

I am a card carrying loner and a natural at isolation. All my heavy boozing took place behind closed doors. A wise psychologist (who I summarily ignored and lied to at the time) once told me, “Marilyn, it is dangerous to not be accountable to something.” At the time I was newly divorced and swanning in the Exumas like I owned the place (I should have, for all the dough I threw around like a drunken sailor…). The truth is, I didn’t really listen to any good advice, and I was getting some from Kim and Dee…

I think this is where AA comes in. Or a church or another 12 step or recovery group. If you can find a community where you feel comfortable and will be missed if you don’t turn up, it is a positive move for your recovery. Create a schedule. Join a book club or a walking group.

It is also the place where mended family fences and work relationships can assist. I advise anyone who is serious about getting sober to tell every single person who is important to them they have quit drinking You would be surprised how resistant most newly sober people are to doing that…

I’m Still a Grasshopper…

In the grand scheme of sobriety, four years is not a long time. And time is certainly my sober buddy. After five years of sobriety I can feel a little more comfortable that the statistics are with me on maintaining my place on the wagon. And the longer I am sober, the smarter I feel. The more secure in my own health and wellness. Maybe I don’t have all the answers, but I have four.

I can’t say, “Whoopee! I got sober, found the love of my life, lost 20 pounds and I can do a cartwheel now!” But I can say, “I have found myself. I am where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing.”

And I don’t lie anymore. So that’s the truth.

XXXOOO, M

The post Four Years Sober – Four Things I Know For Sure first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I was driving around yesterday, picking up obscure items like those things you stick to the floor of slippery tubs so you don’t fall while taking a shower and knock yourself out and drown. I saw a sign on a billboard on 28th Street. The sign read, “I Forget the Last Time I Forgot”.

Brain Teasers…

That is the kind of brain teaser I usually can’t get out of my head. And it was especially meaty, because it was in front of a sad looking import shop.  I can picture the boss saying, “Get a message up on the sign out front that will drive traffic in here.” And some poor guy, with a handful of plastic letters chose this unsuitable aphorism.

Maybe he’s a recovering alcoholic.

Because, this recovering alcoholic can relate. It occurred to me, it has been ages since I have forgotten what happened the night before, or blanked out a conversation I had or unrecalled buying a puppy on the internet. That horrible, hollow feeling when the kids are saying, “Mom. You said we were going to Disney World today. Remember?”

Why Does too Much Booze Make you Forget?

According to an article by Denise Cummins Ph.D. in Psychology Today, “When the body’s alcohol level rises too high too fast, memory functions are impaired. The hippocampus, a brain structure that is crucial for transferring information from short-term to long-term memory, is impaired at a cellular level. The resulting amnesia can be en bloc (can’t remember anything) or fragmentary (bits and pieces something can be retrieved with proper cuing).”

And females are particularly at risk for blackouts.  Dr. Cummins says, “This is because females tend to weigh less than males and have less water in their bodies to dilute alcohol levels. They also have less of an enzyme called “alcohol dehydrogenase” in their guts to break down a small percentage of alcohol before it even gets into the body. Females also are more likely to skip meals to save calories when they drink, so there is less food in the stomach to help absorb the alcohol. As a result, more alcohol reaches the brain, where it plays havoc with sensory and memory functions.”

It is not exactly clear how alcohol creates a memory “blackout“. And the amount of  alcohol required to impair  memory and potentially cause a blackout, can vary. The type of alcohol, and the amount consumed is significant. If you are pounding moonshine, don’t expect to have sharp recall of how you got home (or to someone else’s home…).  And the faster you drink, the more impact there is on the brain and memory.

Mornings are the BEST Part of Being Sober…

I have said it before, but I’ll say it again. Mornings are the greatest part of a sober life. There is nothing like opening one’s eyes and feeling clear, clean and honest. And my memory is sharp enough now, I’m the one who recalls the details and says, “Remember?”

There seem to be benchmarks in alcohol recovery. At three or four months, the effects of post-acute withdrawal (PAWS) begin to dissipate. At two years, or “advanced recovery” cravings and triggers have less impact. And at 5 years the relapse rate drops from a whopping 75 percent in the first year of recovery, to 7 percent. People who successfully complete a formal treatment program or an intensive outpatient program (IOP) have higher recovery rates than those who do not. And day by day, benchmark by benchmark, the brain rewires.

For me, at four years sober, yesterday was another benchmark – marking that I’d forgotten I don’t forget anymore. And for a minute, as I ran normal, everyday errands I remembered there was a time when I would have run the same errands with wine shooters clinking in the glove box.

Best not to forget that…

The post I Forget the Last Time I Forgot… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

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.

In the end, the reason I decided to move was because of a shower curtain rod. There were lots of reasons I can list, now that the decision is made, for leaving my apartment. It was expensive. Especially given its (admittedly groovy) industrial, proletariat vibe. I never saw anyone in the halls and isolation is not good for my psyche. And with 40 foot ceilings, it was a challenge to heat in the long Michigan winters.

Thinking, thinking, thinking…

My lease is up this month and I have spent a fair amount of time  standing in the middle of the “great room” and thinking, moving is just too hard. I have big, heavy pieces of furniture and live three flights up. There’s a bookcase so unwieldy, the previous movers threatened to leave it on the landing or cut it in pieces to make it fit into the narrow, third floor hallway. And there is the tedium of changing my address. I have an orchid. A new case of water unpacked in the refrigerator…

Two weeks ago, my shower rod fell in the middle of the night. Again. It is something I have battled my entire tenure. I don’t know whether the Restoration Hardware, linen curtain is too heavy or the rod not quite long enough, but it has never fit properly. I’ve padded the gap with paper handtowels folded into discreet squares. I have augmented those patches with damp toilet paper (the sides of the shower are slippery). And just when I think I’ve got it beat, it crashes at the most inconvenient time. And I find myself stuffing more, less discrete, wads of scrap paper into the breach and cursing my fate. Why? Why God? I might whimper, at a particularly vulnerable moment.

I never thought to buy a new shower rod, or even complain to the landlord. They supplied it after all, and every time my handiwork crashes, it takes a small swath of paint off the bathroom wall so they should want to fix it. Anyway, the last collapse was the final straw (rod?). I folded up the shower curtain, propped the curtain rod against the wall and put a towel down on the floor to catch the splatter when I take a shower. And like a bolt from above I thought to myself, it’s time to move.

When Something Small Leads You to Decide Something BIG

This is typical of how I make big decisions.  All the good reasons for a life change might be clanging in stentorian obviousness and I will ignore them. Then, someone like Dee or David makes a simple comment, or a shower curtain falls and the way becomes clear.

Take how I got sober for example. After ten years of not-so-subtle prompts to quit – knocking out my teeth on a dive-bar countertop, getting divorced, falling off bar stools, the yen to drink in the morning, running short on cash, falling for another “inappropriate” boyfriend – I quit drinking for good, because my son Jonathan needed to be picked up from the airport. Go figure. He was getting in from England at midnight. Usually, I would have gotten my drinking in early, passed out, set an alarm and “sobered up” enough to go get him. When we got home I would have poured a nightcap.

Instead, I just didn’t drink. All day. And a bell went off – I thought to myself, this is enough – I’m done. For almost four years, that decision has stuck.

Is There a Moral to This Story Mare?

The moral to this story is that getting to the right decision is a good thing, no matter how long it takes. Better however, is the ability to read the signs. Change is never easy – especially when packing boxes or the pouring out of hooch is involved. But ignoring the BIG things is a form of self-punishment. In the NEW APARTMENT, I am going to be more aware of my surroundings, take better care of myself. Take note of the forewarnings.

And in the new apartment, if the faucet drips, or the shower curtain falls – boy oh boy, look out. I am loaded for self-care bear…

The post When the BIG Decision is Prompted By Something Small first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I went to a free concert at Meijer Gardens on the 4th of July with Cindy. She seems to be witnessing a few of my sober “firsts”. This time, it was at an outdoor, camp-chair, picnic basket kind of concert. I haven’t been to one of those sober before. In fact, an outdoor concert (once I recced the toilets) was always an opportunity for drunken disorderliness on my part. Where better to get pie-eyed, than a pot-holed, minefield of folding chairs, wrinkled blankets and loose detritus?

Concert Going Drunk…

In the past, I would have had a glass of wine or four as I packed the cheese and crackers. I’d happily pour the better part of a bottle of wine into a thermos “roadie” and find a clever way to hide more wine on my person. Once we got settled, I’d locate the open bar and buy three, bad wines at a time – spilling booze as I teetered over the lawn with three Dixie-cups smashed together.

I can remember the slightly desperate feeling of having to go to the bathroom (all that liquid), but feeling unsteady. How was I going to pull myself up out of the folding chair two inches from the ground? Eyeing a path through the blankets and Yetis and hoping I wouldn’t lose my tenuous balance – land on someone’s bucket o’ chicken. Or turn an ankle.

I’d leave the food untouched, flinch at the first sip of concert wine like I was taking medicine. And then it wouldn’t taste so bad. I’d get sleepy, grumpy and bored. Sounds like three of Snow White’s most unpleasant dwarfs, right? And at some point I’d hate the band or my hair or the person I was with. I’d pick a fight.

That was me, summer concert drunk…

Concert Going Sober…

So, on the 4th I entered the bandstand area, minding my own sober business, carrying our snacks in a big, blue insolated bag. And a very nice man wearing an apron and a sun hat said, “Would you like some drink coupons?”

I said, “No thanks.”

He said, “Are you sure? There’s wine and beer!”

I said, “No thank you.” I even smiled sweetly. Ask Cindy.

We walked past him and he tried again, like he was on commission, not a volunteer, “It’s delicious wine and beer and these are discount tickets!”

I said loudly over my shoulder, “I’m an alcoholic!”

He looked so crestfallen, I kind of felt badly for him. But then I thought of all the people who were new to recovery and struggling a bit, going to their first sober concert and this kindly idiot was forcing drink tickets on them. So I said to Cindy, “I wonder if I said enough? Should I have told him to take ‘no’ for an answer and to stop selling so hard?”

Cindy said, “I think you said enough… I think he got it.”

My first sober, outdoor concert was fantastic.

Free, so it wasn’t flawless, but I enjoyed every bit. I was able to make my way to the bathroom, teetering on a tiered step like a Flying Wallenda, awake and cheerful and grateful.

I got home and, coincidentally, a newly sober friend of mine wrote to say she was going to a concert and finding the prospect difficult. So difficult, she didn’t even think she wanted to go…  Concerts, particularly outdoor concerts, are triggers for everybody. And it’s a shame. I told her that she was in charge of the situation – to go and enjoy herself. I said, “At least you don’t have to worry about your balance on the way to the porta-potty. At least you’ll remember what you hear.”

See how this peer recovery support works?

She said she went to an Elton John concert sober once. And the first song he sang was, “The bitch is back – stone cold sober as a matter of fact.” She says she laughed out loud… And that’s it in a nutshell – feeling alive and unfettered and happy at an outdoor summer concert. Really hearing the music. Laughing out loud…

The post Summer Concert Going – Drunk Vs. Sober first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.