“When I find myself in times of trouble _____________ comes to me” (3)

               

             ”Forgive me father for I have sinned, it’s been three months since my last confession,” I say to the faceless priest on the other side of the screen. I am 10 years old and searching for things to confess because if I don’t, god will hold it against me.

                

             “Yesterday, I borrowed my sister’s things without asking. I was mean to my parents. I made fun of someone in my class,” I nervously admit.

               

              “Ok child. God forgives you. Say one Our Father and three Hail Marys.”

              Phew! I can go to softball practice now without worrying about eternal damnation.

               It was my parent’s choice to raise me Roman Catholic. I had no say in the matter. From a very young age I began to feel suffocated by the teachings of the church and questioned their merit. Being forced to go to CCD when all I really wanted to do was play outside became a key factor in my teenage rebellion.

Why do I have to go to church every Sunday? Why do I need absolution from a man who knows nothing about me or my life? I highly doubted the difference between my places in heaven or hell would be determined by the conservative dress I wore to service or my abstinence from pre-marital sex.

            I dumped religion and god into the same pile of ludicrousness. At 14, I told my mother after I made my confirmation I would only attend mass on Christmas and Easter, and that was purely for her benefit and peace of mind. I did not care if I ever prayed to Jesus again (except of course when I needed him to help me ace an exam or convince my parents to extend my curfew.)
            When I entered high school the concept of god became completely obsolete. He was replaced by the savior of alcohol and the bar became my church. I learned all I thought I needed to know about life there. Resolution and validation could be found at the bottom of every bottle; shots of bourbon became my penance. From the ages of 16 to 24 I ran wild with careless abandon, caring only about myself and what I could get from others to fulfill my selfish needs. I did everything I could to portray the image of someone who believed in nothing and needed no one. Life had no substance and people were just faces in a crowd.

            Towards the end of my drinking career, I began to feel the effects of my closed minded loneliness. What was my purpose in life? Why am I here? My way of living life was getting me nowhere except embarrassed, depressed, disconnected and regretful. When I finally grabbed hold of an unseen, outstretched hand and allowed something besides myself to take the reins, I got sober and changed my life. I had my first light bulb about god at an AA meeting during a reading from the big book:

(Chap. 4 WE AGNOSTICS)

                    (pg.46) With that rejection we imagine we had abandoned the God idea entirely. We were bothered with the thought that faith and dependence upon a Power greater than ourselves was somewhat weak, even cowardly. We looked upon this world of warring individuals, warring theological systems, and inexplicable calamity, with deep skepticism. We looked askance at many individuals who claimed to be godly. How could a Supreme Being have anything to do with it all? And who could comprehend a Supreme Being anyhow?  Yet, in other moments, we found ourselves thinking, when enchanted by a starlit night, “Who, then, made all this? There was a feeling of awe and wonder, but it was fleeting and soon lost.

            I was never a full blown atheist, but I didn’t think I needed religion or whatever spirit in the clouds was hovering above my halo-less head. My issues with organized religion manifested into a dark and despairing black hole, slowly sucking me into the abyss of alcohol, sex, gluttony and ruin. But in my new found clarity, I discovered my injustices of thought.

            (pg49-50) We have learned that whatever the human frailties of various faiths may be, those faiths have given purpose and directions to millions. People of faith have a logical understanding of what life is all about. Actually, we used to have no reasonable conception whatsoever. We used to amuse ourselves by cynically dissecting spiritual beliefs and practices when we might have observed that many spiritually-minded persons of all races, colors, and creeds were demonstrating a degree of stability, happiness and usefulness which we should have sought ourselves. Instead, we looked at the human defects of these people, and sometimes used their shortcomings as a basis of wholesale condemnation. We talked of intolerance, while we were intolerant ourselves. We missed the reality and the beauty of the forest because we were diverted by the ugliness of some of its trees.

            With this new found support from people in recovery just like me, I learned I could take it slow and form my own conception of a higher power. It could be whatever I wanted it to be. I wrote down all the qualities I looked for in a best friend or companion and formed my conception based on those. For many years, my best friend and lover was a liquid; terrible, cunning, manipulative and abusive. Without even realizing, I had been devoted and reliant upon something more powerful than myself all along.

            (pg 54) We found, too, that we had been worshippers. What a state of mental goose-flesh that used to bring on! Had we not variously worshipped people, sentiments, things, money, and ourselves? And then, with a better motive, had we not worshipfully beheld the sunset, the sea, or a flower? Who of us had not loved something or somebody?

            Today I consider myself to be spiritual, not religious, and that works for me. I see my higher power in many different forms: in the kindness of strangers; in my parent’s unwavering strength and hope; in the friends who have stuck by me. I have to admit there is a comfort in knowing something out there in the universe has my back, like a loved one waiting in the wings with flowers and a hug to congratulate me on a job well done. I do not dismiss religious people or their beliefs. My mother’s faith has gotten her through some very tough times. But for me, religious texts serve the same purpose as the childhood fables my teachers and parents used to teach me important lessons. They carry an overall message. 

“Pride goeth before the fall” is a prescription I take daily. I cannot do this alone. I cannot be so arrogant as to think everything is in my control, because most things are not. “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you ” is something I strive to adhere to at all times. Humility is one of the most attractive qualities a person can have, and that cannot be possessed without the understanding that you are but a brush stroke in the portrait of life.

            It does not matter who or what you choose to believe in as long as you have faith. Imagine Paul McCartney singing whatever works for you: Mother Mary; Jesus Christ: the roses in your garden; Brandon Boyd; The Simpsons; a tropical oasis; your family. 

            Currently, I see my higher power in Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Tomorrow it may be in the friends I meet in AA, and the next day, a saintly figure. So choose an entity, a belief system or your own conception of what it all means, because after all,

                                

            (pg 64) Who are you to say there is no God?

MACKLEMORE & RYAN LEWIS- NEON CATHEDRAL

**Take what you like and leave the rest**

Don’t worry, it tastes like shit (2)

                I’m a lucky girl. There’s no doubt in my mind that without my friends and family I’d be dead in a gutter right now. Getting the ultimate wake-up call by almost hitting a tree head on while driving drunk has helped too, but I attribute a great deal of my solid sobriety and being comfortable in that sobriety to the amazing people in my life. 

          “You’re crazy, but I love you,” is something each has said to me at one point or another. I’m sure they internally had some more choice words for me, but in their battle to remain friend not foe, they never pushed too hard when it came to my drinking problem. They remained sheepishly concerned, knowing I would do whatever I wanted and heed no warning, no matter how dangerous the obstacle ahead might be. 

          For me, bars and their equivalent were wonderful spectacles, drawing me in like fireworks whose larger than life colors excite you because of how beautifully dangerous they truly are.  In his hit song Piano Man, singer Billy Joel paints a perfect picture of this atmosphere when he likens the sound of his barroom piano to those of a carnival. That’s how I felt. Like each time I stepped into a bar, I was stepping into a wonderland of characters, sights, sounds and magical illusions. Except in this tale, I am not a clumsy and bewildered Alice, tumbling down a rabbit hole. I am a college co-ed dressed to the nines with a take no prisoner’s attitude, ready to devour night.

          In that place, everyone was my friend. Everyone was my buddy. I belonged. Only after I got sober did I realize my reality was a fantasy. The people hovering in dark corners getting drunk did not care about me. Those were not my people. Some were there to ease their heartaches and drown their sorrows. Others to hunt and drag their prey back to their lair to ravage. Some to celebrate and let loose. And others, like me, because they didn’t know how to stop.

          Since I’ve joined the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve learned many people had to cut everyone out of their lives and start fresh once they stopped using. I am grateful that for me this is not the case. Of course I have let acquaintances and some friendships fade, but none that I’ve had to quit cold turkey. I’ve had the same group of girlfriends since I was in middle school. We’ve stayed close through all of life’s ups and downs, through distance created by college, and becoming young women. I’ve also been fortunate to make some amazing, lifelong friends during college. And of course, there are my saviors-my parents and sister. All of these people were there for me each time I stumbled. Picked me up off the floor and put me back together. The bartenders and drunken creatures of the night were not, and did not.

          Everyone’s experience with getting sober is different. Some, like me, feel comfortable being around “normies” who can drink responsibly and casually. Others feel the need to avoid places where drinking occurs to impede temptation. Do whatever keeps you sober, but remember you have the power to take back control of your life. A solution and support is available to you should you seek it. I hope that everyone who wants to get sober has people who care about them like I do.

           One of my best friends (forever witty and optimistic) has coined a phrase she uses to lessen the sting of abstinence. Every time she pours herself a glass of Barefoot pinot grigio, she looks at me with a flippant yet assuring expression, proclaiming

                                   “don’t worry, it tastes like shit.”

I do not miss drinking alcohol and wouldn’t change my life now for any glass of wine in the world, but I still laugh every time she says it and appreciate the sentiment. She understands I need levity and humor to combat my sometimes burdensome struggle.  Like I said, I’m a lucky girl. With the right people by your side, you can do anything.

          So start appreciating or picking the right people and take out the trash. Get sober for you and for them. It could save your life.

                                                                   

**Take what you like and leave the rest**

Get moving already(1)

I'm one of those people you can't rush. I didn't fill out my college applications until the deadline almost lapsed. You can call me ten times in a row, but if I'm sleeping, I will put my phone on silent and go to back to bed until I feel like getting up. And only after I've climbed out of bed, yawned, stretched and headed down to the kitchen to make some green tea will I call you back. I do not like to feel pressured or put on the spot. Spontaneity is not my thing. My biggest fear in life is being unprepared, so when I got arrested on May 22, 2011 for my second DUI offense and sent to jail for 36 hours, I was slightly uncomfortable to say the least.

 How long will I be here? Do I make friends or keep to myself? How long can I force myself to go without a shower? Do we even get soap or shampoo? When can I use the phone?

           Those thoughts only occurred to me after I'd had a free moment to process my situation alone in my cell. Before that point, my head was spinning out control, my emotions unmanageable. I promised myself after my first arrest a year and 8 months prior I would never end up back here, but that's the thing about alcoholism-it tricks you into making promises you know you can't keep, even ones to yourself.

My entire life has been a series of ballroom waltzes. Floating around atop a smooth landing, spending entirely too much time relying on fate to figure out my next move. I drank my way through my formative years, denying my brain the chance to process young adulthood through a clear and rational  lens. I lived in a dream land and drowned my sorrows and problems in whiskey. Naturally an insecure and unsure human being, alcohol gave me the boost I needed to come alive. Except I wasn't alive, I was like a trashy Stepford-robot wife. Putting on a show and exhibiting the same behaviors over and over with the same consequences.

Once I got sober after my arrest, I felt like an explorer who'd just discovered a new, untouched world. Everything looked differently from what I'd known and I wanted to see it all. I wanted to dive in head first. Baby steps and choreographed dances were a thing of the past. I emerged from the experience someone different. Something different. It was as though someone had taken my soaking wet brain, wrung it out like a towel, then hung it to dry in the fresh air of a warm breeze before putting it back. I felt clean again.

 I drank for eight years and have been sober for a little over two. My goal is to share my story and experiences as well as things that help me, inspire me, sadden me and educate me.

**Take what you like and leave the rest.**