Tag Archives: recovery

Getting Over. Getting Through

22 Monday Jun 2020

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This is Day 2 on my increased Prozac©{Fluoxetene) dose. I am sleeping a lot and don’t know why, except I’m just exhausted from fighting the negativity I had felt for so long. I could sleep now. My appetite isn’t ravenous. I’m no longer fueling the negativity.

I slept all morning. It felt great. I woke up to fix J a slice of warm buttered cinnamon toast to take with her to work. Then back to bed, where I slept til noon. As I write I am more certain that this is emotional exhaustion.

We may never know the whole truth about the George Floyd killing, the origin of COVID-19 and how it spread, or the Jeffrey Epstein death, just for starters. We are experiencing an endless cycle of event and cover-up. I was trying to make sense of things and failing in the attempt.

Yesterday #1 son came over to assemble his Fathers Day gift of a gas grill. We talked as he worked and he told me he ignores the news, just as I attempt to do the same.

I remember a joke from The Firesign Theatre recording Don’t Crush That Dwarf. Hand Me The Pliers.

“Those are the headlines. Now here are the rumours behind the news.“

I have felt like I’ve been trying to navigate this ocean of lies, using the bioluminescence of a lightning bug as my polar star.

Now that I’ve stopped I experience moments of clarity that are similar to those discovered when getting sober or leaving a dysfunctional marriage(relationship).

The relief that comes from letting go is awesome.

Recipes And Recovery

06 Friday Dec 2019

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Our Church book group meets Saturday. We have lunch afterwards, I thought about turning the chicken cacciatore I made the other day into a casserole. I might need to add more mushrooms a package of thawed frozen spinach, more pasta, cover w cheese and bake in the oven til the cheese is melted.

But I keep wondering If I have enough (over a quart size container). Everybody is bringing something and there are Italians in the mix of participants, so I’m betting somebody else can cook. (Gratuitous ethnic stereotype!) Well, I have now declared there is plenty. So I won’t worry.

Somebody at the AA meeting today celebrated five years of sobriety, This is significant for me because five years ago, 5 December 2014, is the day my brother died, the same day this guy got sober. My brother was not alcoholic, but he died too young (65). Maybe Charlie, my brother, has Neal’s back, or so I like to think.

Life is hard enough without people making trouble for no good reason at all. There is magic in keeping your mouth shut. Be gentle with each other and yourself.

Another Day Of Good Self-Care

19 Tuesday Nov 2019

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Follow-up to the post (#Me Too?. 16 Nov, 2019)

It is ironic how I still have to justify good self-care after a qusrter century of sober living. But I got a decent amount of sleep, ignored news I can do nothing about (all of the news, really), went to an AA meeting, had lunch with J, and went swimming, 1750 meters (over 1 mile).

The Serenity Prayer strikes home tonight, “accept the things I cannot change,” I remember my friend Mikey’s advice to “abandon all hope of a better past”.

Sharing the emotional pain of this long ago incident helped a lot of people, given my long term sobriety, and my dealing with the hurt after all this time. Recovery is about having feelings again. Good feelings and bad feelings.

Now, I’m sitting down. I’ve watched a couple of trains pass through Ashland. J’s lunch is ready. I fixed her strawberries and pineapple, plus the homemade chicken salad she likes. She has to leave for work at the ungodly time of 4:15 to get the Holiday stuff (wonder which ones?) off the truck and on the shelves. I will try to wake up when she does.

And I am serene.

Twenty-five Years

10 Wednesday Jul 2019

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On July 9, 1994, I drank a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer after I mowed the lawn. The next day I drove to Havre de Grace, Maryland with my six year old son to visit my then wife and his mother. She had just been admitted to a top tier alcoholism rehabilitation facility. That was the last drink I ever had.

I have had very vivid drinking dreams during this time of recovery, but I didn’t drink. I have worked the 12 Steps of Recovery. More than that, I have had the desire to stay sober above all else.

A lot of selfishness has melted away. A lot of compassion has come to fill that void created. I’m not perfect, not even close. I’m just glad that nightmare has been over for the last twenty five years.

Finding Purpose (Again)

17 Saturday Nov 2018

Posted by in alcoholism, Depression, Health Issues

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I grew up around drama. I grew up around people struggling with weight and weight related health issues. In 1968, Thanksgiving weekend, my mother’s brother, died of a stroke. He was only 45 and dangerously obese. He received a Purple Heart in WW Two and I suspect he was haunted by The War to the day he died. It just occurred to me that this is the 50th anniversary of his passing.

That was a very real bit of weight drama. My mother’s weight drama was ongoing. She would get serious about losing weight, then start jonesing for sweets. Eventually she developed heart disease and diabetes. She too had a stroke, but lived on another eighteen months afterwards before she died.

Her weight drama and her depression went hand in hand. There were tragedies galore in her family, her father’s alcoholism, her sister’s out of wedlock pregnancy, her father’s death from a cerebral hemorrhage. For a crazy woman, she did the best she could. Pure Christian Love prevailed over most of this.

But I came out warped, broken. I had a few missing pieces to my puzzle of mental health. The disease that is alcoholism affected me and I found recovery in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12 Steps.

The other bit of drama is my rather casual attitude toward diet and exercise. I would lose weight, gain it back over the past 12 years, I would commit to a regular program of swimming, then my sense of hopelessness would take me out of the pool.

This all combined to give a general lack of purpose to my life. Until. This time when I found out I was diabetic, I embraced healthy habits with a passion.

Today, after learning we have to replace a vehicle, I was all worked up. I was about to blow off swimming today, but did not. And I had a good workout, the longest in almost ten weeks, 1750 meters.

It takes effort for me to live life as free of drama as possible. My mother’s craziness, her outbursts of anger live permanently in my memory. Thank God she never physically abused us. And she loved us, took care of us, and wanted us to grow up to be decent human beings. But the repercussions from her brokenness linger in me to this day.

So every carbohydrate I don’t eat is in honor of you Mom. Every lap I swim is for you. I want to be the healthy person, you could never quite be.

I choose to be a positive example,

Alternative Healing

02 Thursday Feb 2017

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Having a spinal fusion is like rolling the dice. You might win. You might not. On balance I am satisfied with the outcome and would do it all over again. But.  There are days when my back hurts at the surgical site or near it.  I am too far post-op to get any opioids for pain. Naproxen, acetaminophen or ibuprofen work sometimes, but some days I think I could accomplish as much pain management with Tic-Tacs.

This morning, around 4:30, was one of those times. I was up for a while, went back to bed, still hurting. I said to myself, “Why don’t you pray The Rosary?”  So I did. The Glorious Mysteries. All five Decades. I then read part of Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange’s The Three Conversions Of The Spiritual Life. It is a profound, little book, dense with observations about the devout life.

I won’t say the pain miraculously and dramatically departed, but it lessened in intensity. My self-absorption with the pain went away.  I went to the 7:00 AM Mass at Mary, Mother of the Church Abbey. Another crack in the facade of self-absorption.

I came home, finally sleepy. About the time I woke up, a fellow alcoholic, whom I didn’t know called. He needed a ride to a meeting. So we went. 

“Out of self, into others.” is one of those AA slogans, simple yet true.  I’ve spent the day living in the spirit of that slogan. I feel a lot better. Useful.

Lurking, Substitutions, Sleep

04 Friday Nov 2016

Posted by in Exercise/ Fitness, food, Gender Roles, Sexual Identity, Sobriety

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If you follow my blog, you might have learned a few things about me.

  1. I had a spinal fusion in November, 2015 that effectively ended my working career. The fusion was preceded by a rotator cuff repair in May, 2015.
  2. I am a practicing Roman Catholic, having converted in 2010 at age 59, from The Episcopal Church USA.  “Practicing ” means I go to both Mass and Reconciliation (Confession) regularly, pray The Rosary, abstain from meat on Friday as a penance. Most importantly, I take Church teaching on love and compassion very seriously.  My faith is like  a “hard limit” with me. I realize a lot of you have had some truly crappy experiences with the Church. I understand. I’m sorry it was so bad for you. Part of converting meant I had to get two previous marriages that ended in divorce annulled under Canon (Church) Law.  I totally get the annulment ordeal.
  3. I am a recovering alcoholic, 22 years sober, AA attending. Along with The Church, I use the 12 Steps of AA in ordering and directing my life . Patience and tolerance are among the gifts I take from them.
  4. Partly from AA, partly from family history, and partly from my own personal experiences around sex and gender identity,  I am very accepting around LGBT issues.  If you are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, that’s OK by me. To that end I am curious about your lives and how you view the world.
  5. On the lighter side, I like to cook.  I also like to exercise, swimming and power walking mostly.

This takes us to the first topic in the title, Lurking. All you Butch Lesbians and Bisexuals out there should know I read your blogs. Occasionally I will “like” a post.  I realize most Butches are OK with my reading. Some aren’t.  To those who aren’t OK with people of my demographic reading your blogs, I’m sorry. But I’m not quitting, unless you bore me to death.

Topic #2.  Substitutions. Since I like to cook and am in Recovery, I find substitutions for wine, beer and spirits in food challenging. Most times I simply not use a recipe with alcohol.  I know how alcohol cooks off in a lot of cases.  But the “esters”, those wonderful compounds that give different wines their unique and characteristic flavor, give me a headache. Any tips on substitutes for alcohol would be appreciated.

Topic #3  Sleep.  Between not having a job and chronic, albeit moderate, pain. I don’t sleep well.  Throw in the Cubs winning the Series, and my circadian rhythm has no rhythm. I’m like Ward Cleaver dancing.

That’s it. I’m done for now.

Slow Forward Twenty-Two Years

12 Tuesday Jul 2016

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I remember the evening of 9 July 1994 quite vividly. It was hot, as it tends to be in Virginia in high summer. I had just finished mowing the lawn and was thirsty, hankering for a cold beer. In the fridge was a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, just waiting for its top to be popped. I did not know it then, but that was the last drink I ever had. My long battle with alcohol ended with that can of PBR.

The next day, a Sunday, was a family visit day at Father Martin’s Ashley, where my then wife was in alcoholism rehabilitation herself. I remember she thanked me for the intervention that put her there.  Our marriage, though, was over, as the next few months played out. Being a drinking buddy was not to be the basis of a lasting relationship.

My then-wife became the ex-wife. We communicated while our son was growing up. We both took an interest in his school activities, like F.I.R.S.T. Robotics.  Then as that link was broken, we stopped communicating.  On 3 November 2015, she died of lung cancer at age 66. (Yes, she was a smoker.)  Had she not concealed her terminal illness from me, I guess her loss might have been easier. She didn’t. As my elder son said later, “There is no closure.”  I can’t think of my drinking days and my early sobriety without thinking of her.

My sobriety continues through job losses, that divorce, my current lasting and loving marriage of fifteen years. I have lost family to death, including my parents and older brother.  I became Catholic, with the attendant marriage annulments as part of that journey.  Now retirement . My sobriety, like my life, has a new beginning with each new day. It is by no means all “puppies, rainbows, and balloons”, but it is a life worth living.  I am truly grateful to be here.