Hearing What I Need To Hear

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The last two AA meetings I have attended have had emotional sobriety as the topic. Have I been emotionally sober is the question I ask myself. With the feedback from Jade and Jodie in this blog, my blog posts dealing with how I have made myself a victim on the sexual relationship front have shown me that victimhood there doesn’t contribute to my emotional sobriety. Victimhood feeds into the concept of low self-esteem, which was a major contributor to my drinking. Low self-esteem does not contribute to emotional sobriety.

Today’s meeting was a chance to see my friend Fred, who recently lost his wife to Huntington’s Disease (what killed Woody Guthrie). It’s a slow death like ALS. We talked, reconnected. All in all, a great day.

Right now it’s raining. J has a cold, so chicken soup is cooking.

Life is good.

Sweet Morning

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I slept almost four hours before I awoke at Three AM. It isn’t all that unusual that people awaken and stay awake in the middle of the night. Regular sleep schedules are important for office and factory workers. I am neither.

There will the Northbound Silver Meteor #98 passing through Ashland in about 3 seconds, headed to New York. There are the darkened coaches, the lighted dining cars and those with bedroom accommodations. It rumbles through. No horn sounds, just the bell’s metallic clang. Trains are poetry, each car a stanza. Each passenger has a reason why he or she takes the train that has little to do with efficiency. An airplane is prose, a paragraph in a newspaper article. Those of us who admire the necessarily inefficient find no problem with the train.

I wish I had seen the old Pennsylvania Station, the one demolished in the early Sixties,whose demise sparked the historic architectural preservation movement. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was one of the earliest patrons, one reason why I admire her greatly.

J has a cold coming one, so she said as she left for work. We shall see how she feels later. She has her lunch, though.

It seems autumn days never get darker gradually, but they do. When we notice that it is dark at seven, then six we know that the next solstice is approaching.

No drama today. No hurt feelings. No longing. I will put expectations aside. I will not compare my life against a fictitious standard.

I will accept the love given to me exactly as it comes. My mother would quote a saying by Victor Hugo,”Profound hearts and wise minds accept life as God grants it,” After her stroke had left her aphasic, she could complete that saying, “….as God grants it,” By way of context she could also complete, “Bevis and…” “Butthead.” Good old Mom. Funny the things we miss.

Swim Reset

I went swimming as usual. What a difference swimming makes. I did 2500 meters. My distance for the week 10/9-15 is 12,100 meters or 7.5 miles.

The frustration and self-pity go away. Plus the much-sought after “aerobic” or endorphin high kicks in. Sweet.

The H.A.L.T. factor, I wrote about yesterday is making itself felt. I don’t feel out of sorts right now, in contrast to the drama of earlier today. Right now I’m not interested in eating through my feelings. Big victory.

Life is good.

Moisture Fatigue

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Dear Porn Writers & Erotic Bloggers:

I know it’s a basic fact of human sexual physiology that the vagina lubricates itself in anticipation of sexual activity. I know it’s important, ya da, ya da, ya da. Still it gets a little tiresome, post after post after post. Now I know you women out there are strongly pro-lubrication, lady parts-wise. Who can blame you? Not me, that’s for sure.

Still, wet cunts are as common in porn as Green Bean Casserole made with Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup and French’s Onion Whatevers are at Thanksgiving Dinner.

Just a hint. Broaden the repertroire. OK?

Late Lunch

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So J gets off work. She wants to go out to lunch. She’s paying. What can I say? We go to Longhorn’s. They have a reasonably priced lunch menu. I get grilled chicken sandwich and a Caesar salad . She gets a cheeseburger and a baked potato. She then proceeds to tell me about a movie on TV last night, featuring adultery, jealousy, and murder, the kind of entertainment porn haters don’t mind watching. Go figure.

Meanwhile I sit through this ordeal, wondering if I could distract myself by cutting my hand off with the steak knife.

I want to have sex with this woman? Celibacy isn’t so bad, all things considered.

Need To Sleep

Odd sleep patterns do not easily disappear. I went to bed around 11:30 last night, woke up at 1:30, switched out the dishwasher, prepped J’s lunch (Fruit cup. Tuna salad), went back to bed around 3:30. I was up again at 7:00, and now, I feel bedtime coming back again.

I will sleep, awaken to get to AA round noon.

Emotional Sobriety H.A.L.T.

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H. Hungry A. Angry L. Lonely. T. Tired

Alcoholics Anonymous is chock full of pithy sayings intended to support persons in recovery from alcoholism. One such saying is HALT, outlined above. I smugly thought that my emotional sobriety was in good shape, until I compared how I felt according to the HALT yardstick.

Hungry. I didn’t let myself get hungry. No I was eating at every chance and weight that I lost was coming back, and I never thought feeding my upset was a sign of emotional dis-ease.

Angry. I thought I was justified in the outright anger around issues I’m powerless over, like politics and the Roman Catholic Church. Add to those the petty resentments that I have toward J about the sexual desert.

Lonely. No sex. Need I say more?

Tired. I would sleep at every chance I get.

Here I was, trudging through life, with one issue after another, never thinking about drinking, but attached to the grievances of life, feeling like I deserved to hold all these resentments. Wrong. They were taking a toll.

In all likelihood, none of these circumstances will suddenly disappear. But you know, I don’t have to let them run my life.

I learned this Monday

I learned just how lonely I am. I had this realization sitting in the AA meeting that I need to connect with people. I can’t do this at home reading or watching sports, porn, and YouTube.

Actually I saw my porn viewing today, as directly related to my loneliness, I watch three particular videos over and over of the same couple making love, having sex, or whatever it is they re doing when they’re going to town. Not that it matters, but they are lesbian. They look like regular people, no fake tits or impossibly small asses. In my fantasy, they are a real-life couple and they really are in love. How they make love is how I want to connect with J, minus the strapon, fully, completely, and surrendered. Both of us surrendered, to each other.

The pain of loneliness hit me like a ton of bricks this weekend. I need people, much as I like to think I don’t.

Sunday. 13. X. 19.

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I had plans. First, I went to Mass at 8:30 with my sister and her husband at St Benedict. They are attending St Benedict now. They like the priest, the liturgy, in English, is dignified and reverent. They got tired of the priest at their old parish, who is really good at telling jokes. So good, in fact, he abandoned any real meaningful content in his homilies. This happens. It isn’t stand-up, Father.

After Mass, I came home, ate breakfast, slept. J came home. She had six boxes of sun care products to get to Fed Ex. I went with her. We had another late lunch/early dinner. I came home, slept some more.

Now baseball. Tie game right now. I love watching the Yankees’ middle inning relievers. They are as tough as nails. The Budweiser commercial with Superwoman at the bar, showing the boy bar flies how to shoot pool, throw darts, and arm wrestle, all while holding her bottle of Bud, was just on. Stupid. Annoying. But that’s TV. Americans will put up with all kinds of nonsense to watch a good game.

I did not get to swim today. Bummer. The odd sleep patterns are getting to me. But I’m focusing back into doing what works, diet, swimming, meetings. So working through interruptions, like getting boxes to Fed Ex, the lunch out afterwards I was not expecting, are part of the drill.

Now let’s get this game over.

Evening Update

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Late lunch/early dinner with J, Swimming, watched some of the Yankees game with J. I bought her some of her favorite cookies. Desperation level is appreciably lower. I am as happy about the shift in circumstances as I can be.

Lack of sleep, body pain, more clutter around the house all combined to heighten the sense of hopelessness. Today showed me where the tools of recovery help. “Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.” is one of those pithy sayings we take to heart.

Tomorrow I will go to 8:30 Mass, where I will meet my sister and brother-in-law. I will go swimming. I will fix chili for supper.

I have to admit it’s getting better, getting better all the time.” Lennon/McCartney