tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62036159219323222762024-02-23T06:27:51.012-08:00MikeL's Recovery BlogA recovering alcoholic's blog on a variety of subjects related in some way to alcoholism, recovery, spirituality, meditation, etc.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-30685843619500770082023-08-14T08:15:00.002-07:002023-08-14T08:29:32.962-07:00Playing with Anxiety<p> [Note: While I just published this post today (8/13/23), it was actually drafted in December 2020. I will write more on this recovery about what followed, but know that it took another two years of hard and daily work for me to eventually experience a significant breakthrough with my struggles with anxiety and depression. But I did make it thru that difficult period sober (today I’m 23 days, 9 months and 21 years worth of days sober)…and still married to my only wife of now 42+ years!]</p><p><br /></p><p>I have been struggling with anxiety for the last couple of years - well before the beginning of this global pandemic. While I have been going this, I trusted in the process I’ve been “practicing” since waking up sober 14 days, 8 months and 19 years ago — and at times the process takes on the quality of “trudging”. It’s hard, not easy. It requires lots and lots of effort — and even more surrendering and giving up on things, especially unhealthy habits of doing those things that simply no longer work. </p><p>And, equally important, has been the need to reach out for gobs of support, raising my hands asking for help! Both inside and outside the rooms of AA — in particular, to trained and skilled therapists. </p>Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-25410404479421509302020-12-22T07:59:00.001-08:002020-12-22T07:59:14.841-08:00The Four I's of Long Term Recovery<a href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/content.sitezoogle.com/u/63023/f45fd6d26ea042fe2326e5fc774e18cf8b516f01/original/rebellion-dogs-blog-march-2019-infatuation-irritability-inventiveness-insight.pdf?response-content-type=application%2Fpdf&X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&X-Amz-Credential=AKIAJUKM2ICUMTYS6ISA%2F20201222%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&X-Amz-Date=20201222T153311Z&X-Amz-Expires=604800&X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&X-Amz-Signature=0d93f6b79d0e01464c4300182cd8d4e8334df239d83397f652ebb95357bd7054">The Four I's of Recovery/Relationships</a>Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-64896692735105868452020-02-22T10:53:00.001-08:002020-03-03T15:26:02.694-08:00Passing of TimeI’ve not posted to this blog for over 3 years and wanted to check-in about what has gone on with me since my last post. I know that when members of AA disappear from my regular meetings, I too quickly jump to assuming the worst: i.e.,they’ve relapsed, drank or used. And if so, they may be having a hard time coming back into the rooms because of the shame, whether from one or more others or from within themselves — with no outside help needed.<br />
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Personally, I’ve always believed that my premature death will not be a consequence of another drink as it would be from the resulting shame or the fear thereof. To remove that theoretical obstacle to whatever natural longevity I have, I’ve tried to defang this known obstacle in a variety of ways:<br />
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<li>Whenever a member comes back into the rooms after an admitted relapse and raises their hand as a newcomer, I do everything in my power to welcome them back and do what I can to avoid having them shamed in any way.</li>
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<li>And I usually admit my selfish motive underneath my kindness: I know that a drink is always a possibility for me and there is no absolute defense against that possibility (were that not true, the 1st Step would be a joke or a lie. Having an absolute defense to relapse is, for me, an assertion of powerfulness over alcohol. So why kindness to the newcomer?</li>
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<li>I explain to the newcomer that my kindness is selfish to the core: I want every recipient of my effusive kindness to remember my kindness at a future date and time when the hand raising newcomer is Me, Mike L, alcoholic. And the knowledge of this collective of others “like me” will return my earlier kindness in spades. </li>
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But for the last several years, the main thing I do to keep my recovery “fresh” is to disclose my sober time in the order of Days-Months-Years. Today, for example, I know that I have two days, four months and 18 years worth of days. Technically, I don’t “have” that time — it’s not a possession. I can’t hold it. I’m in this day, I don’t own it. </div>
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This practice came about after someone in my home group talked about a guy in one of his regular meetings who drank again after 30+ years of sobriety. Luckily, he made it back to his home group and raised his hand as being in his first 24 hours. No one in the group shamed him in any way — they just welcomed him back. Several weeks later, one of his close friends sat next to him before the meeting began and leaned over to ask his friend, “What do you think happened to lead to taking another drink?” There was no shaming involved - his friend was just curious. The guy didn’t get defensive and just looked down at the floor — maybe while he was looking within — and then it came to him. “I think what happened is that I got used to counting years and eventually I forgot how to count days.”</div>
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I don’t ever want to forget how to count days. </div>
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Take care!</div>
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Mike L. </div>
Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-12212669646462459382016-12-29T09:14:00.002-08:002017-06-24T14:41:44.711-07:00The Practice of Sponsorship<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Over the years, I have learned certain ways to begin (and to end) my meetings with sponsees: To begin, I start with: Please share with me what you've done to stay sober since we last met? I want a high level but somewhat detailed summary of the basics of whatever they've done since we last met with the intent to stay sober: e.g., number of meetings, instances of trying to help others, step work, prayer/meditation practices, gratitude list writing, physical exercise... whatever they've done with the intent to stay sober and improve the quality of their lives. </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When they've finished with that (it shouldn't take but a few minutes), I then ask them what I can do to help. If they are going through the step process, I check in with where they are with the step they are working on...</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Usually, once the struggle of the week/month comes up, the issue of "wantingness vs willingness" inevitably comes up. Everyone (including me) struggles with something and who better to share that with than a sponsor. <br><br>I don't like wallowing in the weeds of these struggles, but some of that's necessary in order to get to the deeper roots of these struggles. Most of us like to spend (waste) energy on what's wrong with others or what others should be doing and for me, that often turns out to be a total waste of time. I like to say those people are doing what they need to do -- the only question for them to ask themselves is: "<b>now</b> what do I need to do (or not do)?".<br><br>I find that most people already know what they need to do or not do, but they simply don't want to do (or not do) it! So I usually just ask them, based on everything you learned so far in your recovery, what do you think/feel you should do or not do? Once they tell me (and it makes sense), I ask them, "Well, what's keeping you from doing or not doing that?"<br><br>Inevitably, it comes down to them admitting that they simply don't want to do or not do what their gut tells them they should. I call this the notwantingness problem: where we end the analysis of what should I do once we get to the seeming roadblock of notwantingness. <br><br>I usually confront the "I don't want to" statements with a gleeful Tony the Tiger: "Grrreaaattt!". If they are a new sponsee, they look puzzled at my seeming inappropriate joy at their conundrum in life. I explain that the reason for my joy is that they have arrived at the Challenge of Notwantingness and that only when we get here can we practice the long tested and valued A.A. principle of Willingness. <br><br>Turns out Notwantingness is the essential prerequisite of Willingness: most of us don't need willingness to eat a chocolate chip cookie (or a drink of booze or other drug of choice). No, willingness is only called for when we don't want to do something. So, it's a good sign whenever we're confronted with Notwantingness! That's where the real productive and life changing work begins! Willingness!<br><br>Then I remind them of something one of my sponsors is still fond of saying: The secret to long term sobriety (he has 40+ years), is learning to do things you DON'T WANT to do, with people you DON'T WANT to do them with! <br><br>Of course, they are the ultimate Deciders since it's their life and their responsibility. Not mine. I do share with them that their fear of doing X is based on the Seeming Problem of Incompetence: they are afraid not because they are incapable of doing X, but rather, because they've never done X sober. That just means they are incompetent and the only remedy for incompetence is taking action, making mistakes, getting up, learning what not to do, trying again....<br><br>At the end of our hour, I always close by thanking them for distracting me from what I thought were my real problems but are now either forgotten or less problematic than I thought they were. And ultimately, my problems are examples of my own Notwantingness calling me into The Land of Willingness. <br><br>Take care!<br><br>Mike L</span></p>
Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-12600033734464738822016-07-09T15:15:00.001-07:002016-07-10T08:05:26.478-07:00The -ISM in Alcoholism Stands For "Incredibly Shortterm Memories"<div>A woman showed up at today's meeting and raised her hand as being in her first 30 days of recovery. Although no one asked her for an explanation, she quickly added that she'd had 20 years sober before this relapse. And that prior to this recent relapse, she'd been to only one meeting in the prior 16 years. And that the one meeting occurred the night before her last drink. </div><div><br></div><div>Apparently, not only do we in AA not shoot our wounded -- we also don't interrupt them when they need to get something important off their chest. </div><div><br></div><div>When she finished, we then welcomed her back with smiles and applause. And I think she became the unofficial focus of this group of misfit drunks in recovery. </div><div><br></div><div>When she got to share again, she explained that during her first four years of recovery, she'd done all the things that were suggested: sponsor, Steps, service, fellowship -- even the "God" stuff. And it worked! She loved it. </div><div><br></div><div>The only problem was she also enjoyed certain other things in life that no one else in her group enjoyed doing, at least not as much as she did: hiking, nature walks, jogging, etc. So she and her non-alcoholic husband gradually found new friends who happened to be neither AAs nor alcoholics. These new friends liked outdoorsy types of activities and she and her husband fit in like a glove. </div><div><br></div><div>And almost without thinking or decision-making, she shared that she then slowly drifted off from meetings and other AAs. From recovery. </div><div><br></div><div>She stayed sober for 16 years. During those years, she walked through some really difficult experiences without picking up a drink. At first she was aware of the fact that she wasn't drinking after each difficult time. But then, gradually, she didn't even notice her own "not drinking". </div><div><br></div><div>In the end, well before the relapse, all she noticed was the pain. And the hopelessness. </div><div><br></div><div>And I think by the time it was too late, she decided to go to her first meeting in 16 years: the pain was too great. </div><div><br></div><div>She sat in the back. Alone. L<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">istening to everyone else's trivial issues and stories. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But she just couldn't raise her hand and tell them how much pain she was in or how much she desperately needed their help. </span></div><div><br></div><div>I suspect she was silent because she was ashamed of all these feelings: someone with 20 years of sober shouldn't feel such embarrassing feelings! She felt weak and needed to appear strong. </div><div><br></div><div>Ultimately, she left the meeting without speaking a word of her truth. And the next day, she drank. </div><div><br></div><div>The pain was simply too much. She told us that as she was taking that first drink, she knew that whatever was to follow was not going to be good. But she drank anyway. </div><div><br></div><div>She didn't know one other thing to do. </div><div><br></div><div>She'd forgotten who she was years previous to that first drink. </div><div><br></div><div>She'd forgotten or had never learned the difference between sober and sobriety. </div><div><br></div><div>Sober is a lifeless fact or formula: me less alcohol equals sober. </div><div><br></div><div>Sobriety is life itself for the recovering alcoholic, one day at a time. With all the feelings, wanted and unwanted. </div><div><br></div><div>When we're told early on to hang in there, that we'll eventually feel better -- few of us realize at first hearing that no one's suggesting that recovery work filters out all "bad" or "painful" feelings and leaves only the "good" or "pleasant" ones. For me, it took years of recovery to realize that the "feel better" encouragement meant that if I did the required inner work, I would eventually begin to feel the full and glorious range of human emotions and feelings "better!" -- both the so called good and the so-called bad. </div><div><br></div><div>My 30 years of using alcohol as a technique to deal with or control feelings never really worked except in temporary and illusive ways. </div><div><br></div><div>As I shared in this meeting, in my experience, when sober people forget who they are -- or, more accurately, when I forget who I am as an alcoholic and think of myself as simply "sober" or worse, as someone "who has stopped drinking" then what happens for me is I start thinking that maybe I'm not really an alcoholic. </div><div><br></div><div>I've come to believe that the -ism in alcoholism stands for "incredibly shortterm memories." For me, the memories of what drinking was like start to fade away after 24-48 hours. Sometimes quickly. Sometimes slowly. </div><div><br></div><div>And once I go down this mental pathway of forgetting who I am as an alcoholic, the same thing happens. Every. Single. Fucking. Time: I decide that I'm a non-alcoholic! </div><div><br></div><div>And the first thing I always do once I decide that I'm a non-alcoholic, I start thinking and obsessing about drinking alcohol. </div><div><br></div><div>Or, as I've found when analyzing the half dozen drinking dreams that I've had over the last 14 years: I just end <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">up finding myself alone. Looking down at my hand. And in my seemingly disembodied hand is a half empty glass of alcohol. What then happens are two simultaneous events: (1) someone, an authority figure in my life (for the last 35 years, her name has been Nancy!) or my son, walks into the room and (2) I realize where the other half of that drink is. "FUCK!"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Dream over. Cold sweats. Shame. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Today, I'm so grateful for this woman telling her relapse story to us today. I identify with her because, like her, I know with my whole being that "I" cannot stop drinking. That I'm an alcoholic. And that while I can't stop drinking, what I can do is stay sober "one day at a time" and that "that" day is always called "Today!"</div>Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-50895616899738505842015-01-13T10:19:00.001-08:002015-01-13T10:19:13.203-08:00Interview of Dr. Earle Marsh (Author of "Physician Heal Thyself" in
AA's Big Book)I recently uploaded to YouTube an interview my sponsor did with his sponsor, Dr. Earle Marsh, a few months before Earle's death on January 13, 2003. The interview is called "Discoveries" and lasts about an hour and a half (I broke it up into three 24 minute segments, Parts I, II and III). <div><br></div><div>Earle got sober June 15, 1953 -- two days before I was born. Like I have mentioned here in the past, I met Earle very early in my recovery, I was 48 years old and he was 90 years old, 48 of them sober. I was scared that while AA and NA had helped my 15 year old son get sober, it was probably not going to be something that would work for me because it was too much like a cult and I'm just not a cult kinda guy. </div><div><br></div><div>The fear that AA was a cult vanished the first time I heard Earle share at a meeting. He was his own man, spoke what he believed and seemed to have no concern about whether people agreed with him or not. It was only important that it rang true for him when he was sharing it. </div><div><br></div><div>I've come to believe that when Earle got sober two days before my birth, he began making this particular world safe enough for an alcoholic like me to be born. And I consider it the greatest of all circumstances thst the night of Earle's death, I was there holding his hand as he took his last breath. </div><div><br></div><div>Below, I've posted links to the three parts of this amazing interview of one of AA's greatest and dedicated members. Enjoy!</div><div><div style="margin-top: 14pt; margin-bottom: 14pt;"><font color="#000000"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ionUOFgthM" target="_blank" id="LPlnk61384" previewinformation="1">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ionUOFgthM</a> (Part I)</span></font></div><div style="margin-top: 14pt; margin-bottom: 14pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPIJdHIiGbQ" target="_blank" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPIJdHIiGbQ</a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(Part II)</span></div><div style="margin-top: 14pt; margin-bottom: 14pt;"><font color="#000000"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JuXn3ZjcB8" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JuXn3ZjcB8</a> (Part III)</span></font></div><div style="margin-top: 14pt; margin-bottom: 14pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div></div><div><font face="Calibri,sans-serif" size="2" color="#1F497D"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br></span></font></div>Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-842306972629081762014-03-15T18:59:00.001-07:002014-08-03T12:32:45.639-07:00The Serenity Prayer: From Petition to TrickeryAlmost immediately after getting sober a little over twelve years ago, I began practicing a daily morning routine: after I got in my car to begin my 65 mile commute to work, I would begin my drive by reciting out loud the Serenity Prayer. It's one of many daily habits that I now do with little thought or decision-making. <div><br></div><div>It's not something anyone told me to do or even suggested that it might be a good idea. It sorta just seemed like a good idea that might occupy my mind with something other than drinking. <div><br></div><div>This deceptively simple prayer, which some people refer to as the AA prayer---one <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">of two we stole from the Christian tradition---has started off most all of my days with a solid foundation. It was though only after years of daily practice, that I discovered several important truths hidden within this deceptively simple prayer. This, by the way, is a common experience of mine when I practice a new healthy behavior for prolonged periods of time!</span></div><div><br></div><div>And so the most important truth was discovered only after several years of consistent daily practice: this prayer wasn't a prayer of petition as I first thought it to be when I started hearing it in most AA meetings I attended. That is, it wasn't really prayer where I petitioned (asked) God for something I wanted, something I didn't think I had or could get under my own power. </div><div><br></div><div>It was only after hundreds of recitations of this seemingly simple prayer that I discovered that the Serenity Prayer is far more than a prayer of petition. It's a special kind of prayer different from all other familiar types of prayer: thanksgiving, praise, despair, etc.). Instead, it's become a unique form of prayer I call a "trick" <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">prayer: it tricks me into a unforeseen or sought after experience of awareness where I gradually discovered that I don't get Serenity <b><i>first</i></b> (as a gift from God or anyone else) so that I can <b><i>then</i></b> accept the things I cannot change! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Instead, I repeatedly discover <u>after the fact</u> that <b><i>only after</i></b> I accept the things I cannot change---usually after a long painful process of trying to change it!---and only then, that I then experience Serenity, a sense of peace. <b>Serenity isn't a prerequisite for acceptance of things I cannot change, it's the consequence!</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I also discovered after hundreds of repetitions of this prayer that I don't get Courage <b><i>first</i></b> so that I can <b><i>then</i></b> change the things I can change. Rather, I fearfully and doubtfully change the things I can and then and only then can I look back and see the expression of a courage I didn't even know I had in me! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The Serenity Prayer has tricked me thousands of times before I discovered the subtle Wisdom hidden in this prayer. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Maybe this whole gradual awareness is a simple answer to the last request or petition made in this prayer, where we ask for "the Wisdom to know the difference" in terms of what we can and can't change. Maybe for me at least, the wisdom is discovered only through therepeated and sometimes mindless action of reciting this simple prayer. </span></div><div><br></div><div>The other important truth I've learned about this and other prayers is that I am always free to change the wording so that the prayer more adequately expresses my thoughts and feelings, my truth. I'm free to make any prayer "mine". Here are several of my favorite versions of the Serenity Prayer:</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;">Serenity Prayer (My version): </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><b><i>God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, wisdom to know the difference and the love to do the next right thing.</i></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;">This added phrase, "and the love to do the next right thing" helps me re-enter life after this short moment of contemplative prayer and focus my attention so that I'm looking for opportunities to do the right thing, or more accurately, the loving thing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;">Another version I stole (permitted and even encouraged in AA!) </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;">from someone else, the "people version":</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 14px;"><b><i>God grant me the Serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the Courage to change the people I can and the Wisdom to know that I'm those people!</i></b></span></div><div><br></div></div><div>I wonder what other truths I'll discover as I continue this daily routine? Can't wait to find out. But if I do wait, I'm sure I will!</div>Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-84327092317914246412013-06-29T21:57:00.002-07:002013-06-29T23:51:02.383-07:00Levels of Gratitude: One thru Four ( For Now!)This morning, first day of a long overdue vacation with my wife to Oregon, I experienced a prolonged and first time experience of the highest level of Gratude, which I am going to call, for lack of a better term, the O-MyFuckingGod level of gratitude. As I announced here a couple of months ago, I have been practicing gratitude in a formal and daily way since January of this year. Now almost seven months and 165 gratitude lists into my gratitude "project" I want to report on an experience I had today of what I think must be one of the highest levels of Gratitude.<br />
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Yes, there are levels of Gratitude: Four Discovered So Far </div>
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Level 1: Not Grateful. This is, surprisingly, the first level of gratitude. Just like for the actual alcoholic, the first level of self-identification is calling one's self a Non-Alcoholic. This subjective state is where we are totally ignorant of all or anything we have to be grateful for. It's also called depression, self-absorption, isolation/loneliness, self-pity and self-hatred. Most alcoholics, including me, come into recovery at this level of gratitude. I came into the rooms in late October, and trust me, I not only came to quickly HATE the November topics of Gratitude -- I let everyone know this was an Outside Issue at every meeting where that was the topic for at least the first year or two of recovery. Especially when it wasn't November!</div>
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Level Two: Fake It Til You Make It Gratitude Lite. This is where you begin pretending to feel things that you mostly don't really feel. That's because you're actually still feeling most of the Level One "negative" feelings, but for some reason (I desperately want Dr Earle to like me!) you start pretending to feel positive feelings even though you don't. In AA, this is a long-sanctioned deception encouraged by sponsors and other non-requested sponsors. Trust me, you'll feel better if you do this for 30 days in a gratitude journal at night before you go to bed! "Sure, I'll do this [idiotic bullshit!] just because you "suggested" [i know it's more than a suggestion! I'm not a complete idiot!] it. Thanks! [Not!]"</div>
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Level Three: Actual feelings of grate-fullness. This actually started to happen within me after 3-4 years of recovery. Without ever doing even one written gratitude list. This happened because I finally "heard" within me what Earle had told me before he died: Mike, gratitude isn't a feeling, not something you are supposed to feel. It's a decision, a habit or an attitude. It's an attitude that members of AA have found tremendously helpful in their lives. You might want to try giving it a shot! (He was the kindest meanest man I'd ever known up to that point in my life. </div>
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Level Four: Well, for this one, I just want to share a story because stories are the most direct path to the Truth. This is the story I shared this morning with the now 25 members of my private AA Gratitude Project blog: as you'll see, I now call this highest (so far!) level of gratitude the O-MyFuckingGod level of gratitude!</div>
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This morning's post:</div>
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As I mentioned in my Gratitude list earlier this morning, I was able to go to a Crack of Dawn <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">7am</a> meeting here in Ashland, Oregon today. I wrote today's list <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 6am</a> on my first full day of vacation. What i now need to share, double-dipping in gratitude as it were, is thst on my way to this AA meeting, unusual things started to happen, important and very subtle things that we often miss, especially if we aren't practicing things like Gratitude or Acceptance. </div>
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I should have known that there was something special about this particular meeting when the Google Map directions ended up taking me two blocks past Normal Avenue and then told me to turn left in order to get to the church where this AA meeting was being held! O-MyFuckingGod! #1</div>
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I went into the meeting, a little resentful that coffee wasn't ready for ME, and sat down as far away from anyone as I can--can tou imagine what i would be like if i weren't sober and not practicing daily gratitude for seven months!--when a woman down the aisle leans forward and says to me, is this your first time to this meeting? I say, Yes it is....Patty! </div>
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You see, Patty is someone I met at the Lafayette Hut when I first got sober and I just loved her just plain honesty. In 2003, she retired from the Sheriff's office and moved to Oregon and I'd never seen her since. Until this morning! O-MyFuckingGod! #2</div>
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After we hugged and quickly exchanged quick updates, I sat back down and looked across the room and then saw another woman I love from where I live, named H____, and our eyes connected and there was yet another hug and quick exchange of stories. O-MyFuckingGod! #3</div>
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The meeting began after the secretary asked me to read The Promises at the end of the meeting. I checked in, as did H____, as a visitor from California and everyone welcomed me all the visitors. </div>
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It was an open Topic meeting where someone, anyone, volunteered a topic for that meeting. One of the other visitors, a man who was there with his sober wife, and who was celebrating with her their 17th sober anniversary of marriage, said that at his Napa home group on Saturday mornings, the topic was always Gratitude! O-MyFuckingGod! #4</div>
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When he finished, I shared about my December experience with a sponsee and newly (again) sober guy, who was so seriously depressed, that I suggested that he do something I had never actually done myself: a daily gratitude list. When he was unsuccessful/unwilling to do that after two weeks (including the shortest 5150 commitment I've ever heard of!) I told him that I was giving up on trying to get him to do a gratitude list for 30 days, and that instead of getting him to do it, I was going to do it. In addition, everytime I finished writing mine, I would send him a copy. Miraculously, he then started doing the daily gratitude list and sending me a copy of his list most every day. I think because he knew I would like it if he did. Over six months now, I'm still doing a daily gratitude list and sharing it in this AA Gratitude Project site with over 25 and some of them are doing the same with me. This story changed the whole dynamic of the meeting. Good stories do that. O-MyFuckingGod! #5</div>
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There were 5 other MyFuckingGod! Experiences during and following the meeting. Including when I got lost on the way back to the hotel and had to resort to GoogleMapsto find my way.... Siri's third direction on the way home was to "turn right in <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" x-apple-data-detectors-type="address" x-apple-data-detectors="true">600 feet on Normal Ave.</a>"! </div>
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O-MyFuckingGod!</div>
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Then I got back to the room, climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Nancy -- who was still "not snoring". </div>
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Take care!</div>
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Mike L</div>
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Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-40966333614356886692013-05-11T14:23:00.001-07:002013-05-11T14:26:56.106-07:00Checking In and Announcement of New Gratitude Project BlogI know it that I hate it when I find a recovery blog that I like and then the blogger just seems to disappear. Assuming there are those out there that have found my recovery blog helpful, I apologize for how I've been neglecting this blog. My recovery is still center most in my daily life and practice, I've simply not had time to regularly maintain this site.<br />
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Brief catch up: my son Pat celebrated 12 years clean yesterday and I still trail him by 5 months and 10 days. He will celebrate his 28th birthday in June with his one year old daughter (Harriet Charles.... the Charles is after me: I'm formerly Charles Michael L) and will be getting married to Harriet's mother in September. My oldest had her second child a few months ago: West Oliver Michael....yes, I'm one of the inspirations for Michael). My youngest is still going thru her grieving process following the loss of her first baby, Oliver, just over a year ago -- but she is also 25+ weeks into the process of carrying her second child, a boy like his brother), into this amazing and unpredictable world. And my "future ex-wife" and I celebrated 32 years of marriage last March. All's well with family.<br />
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My recovery is also doing well. Still going to average of 10 meetings or more a week. Actively sponsoring about 10 guys and meet with them any where from once every two weeks to once a month -- and I approach sponsorship pretty much as outlined in the wonderful AA pamphlet, Questions and Answers About Sponsorship). I still practice meditation via memorization and recitation while I commute 65 miles to/from work each day.<br />
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The only thing new that I've added to my daily practice of recovery is the commitment to a daily gratitude list. For over four months now, I have been consistent in writing a daily gratitude list: 10 things that I am grateful for in my life and, if needed, 3-5 short things that I am simply not grateful for --- yet. While I had developed a general habit of gratitude over the last 11years of recovery, I had never done an actual written and daily gratitude list. I had periodically suggested it for sponsees (with the appropriate disclaimer that this was not how I had developed the habit of gratitude -- I'd done it differently -- of course!) but had never done it myself.<br />
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Back in December of last year, I had a sponsee who was in a deep suicidal depression and in addition to suggesting therapy and much else...) I suggested he write a daily gratitude list as outlined above: every day for the thirty days it would hopefully take to morph this practice into a habit of gratitude. But he just couldn't do it. After several weeks of getting no where, I broke down and committed to doing my own daily gratitude list every day for 30 days. For some reason, that got him over the hump of unwantingness. But, more importantly, my life was changed dramatically as a result of writing this list, by sharing it with him and by him sharing it with me every day.<br />
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After the thirty days, we both ended the daily practice. It was wildly successful -- and we stopped doing it! With the next two weeks, I got into two huge and painful arguments with my closer to being "future ex-wife" when I noticed the nexus between the arguments and my premature termination of the daily gratitude list. I immediately resumed the practice and also began extending the number of people who decided to join me in this daily practice: something along the lines of gratitude shared us gratitude doubled. And tripled and so on.<br />
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Eventually, I ended up just setting up a new blogsite called AA Gratitude Project. Access is open only to those I invite to join. Once a member, each time someone posts or comments on a gratitude list, an email automatically goes out to all members with the list or comment included. In additition, there's an email address where members can email their gratitude list and have it automatically posted to the site without having to login. The only technical requirement to register with this blogspot.com site, the member has to have a gmail.com email account. That account is required only to login to the blog, the email notifications can go to you primary personal email account of any type.<br />
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The only membership requirement is that the person has a desire to develop a deeper sense or habit of gratitude. Members are currently all recovering alcoholics, men and women -- but I won't deny someone access simply because they are lucky enough to be a recovering alcoholic.<br />
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So. If any of my recovery blog friends would like to join us on this AA Gratitude Project, please send me an email (mikelrecovery@gmail.com) with your email address. You'll need to setup a gmail account on Google's site but I don't need to know anything about that. Once I set you up as an Author, you'll get an email with instructions on how to access and register on the site. I'll send you an email with further directions and you'll be welcome to participate as you wish. I'll reserve the right to remove someone's membership if I deem your continued participation to be harmful to the group's well being (now I'm not grateful that I have a law degree and work for lawyers!).<br />
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Take care!<br />
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Mike L.<br />
<br />Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-89937930988729550672012-10-27T13:17:00.002-07:002012-10-27T13:17:42.469-07:00Another Milestone Passes By...I miss the routine of blogging regularly and just wanted to check-in with my blog site just to let those who visit this site that I am well and progressing in my recovery. <br />
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October is my birthday month so there's been much reflection on what these last eleven years have brought me. Gratitude is one of the most important spiritual tools in my recovery kit. And gratitude is not a feeling -- it's a decision, a habit. And it involves lots of work.<br />
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Anyway, I recently completed my eleventh year of recovery. I've gone to an average of 10-14 meetings a week for all these years--which totals up to almost 8,000 meetings and $8,000. AA's expensive when you think about it longer term I suppose. I sponsor a ton of active sponsees (people I meet with anywhere from every two weeks to every months or so to talk about what's going on in their recovery and see what I can do to help) -- I've joked about how many men with bad sponsor picking skills have latched on to me since i finished going thru the steps 7 years ago for some time now, but yesterday it dawned on me that it is literally true given that they each weigh around 200 pounds. <br />
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I do my best every day to help someone, a suffering alcoholic most specially, in some way. It always distracts me from what I mistakenly think as problems or challenges that require my direct involvement and expertise. And inevitably, while I'm being distracted by someone else's problems and/or life challenges, my own so-called problems transform into blessings and the challenges pass and become grist for wonderful and healing stories. In fact, I'm sitting here in a Seattle hospital now helping an old friend and his get thru the challenges associated with his fall last week which left him, an 81 year old man, with a broken hip. I flew up for the weekend to be helpful to them. Absolutely to expectation for any return or payback. You see, I've already been more than fully compensated for anything I might do to help someone else. <br />
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I owe an unpayable debt to Life:<br />
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My 27 year old son still has five months and ten days more clean time than his dad and now he's dad to his own daughter, Harriet Charles. (FYI: my name is actually Charles Michael....and, No, ChuckMikeLRecovery doesn't flow off the tongue does it?) He's a far better dad than ever was back when my children were little. He's able to be present to her and his almost wife in a way which was beyond my capacity back then. My youngest daughter continues her journey thru the grief after the death of her stillborn son in April the day before he was due to be born. She's a wonderful mother and the epitome of courage. And now my oldest daughter is pregnant with her second child, a boy, due in February. My fourth grandchild. We're walking thru this pregnancy a wholly different family than we were just six or seven months ago. The following month my wife and I will celebrate 32 years of marriage. The woman I sometimes jokingly refer to a my future ex-wife! The absolute love of my life!<br />
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<br />Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-18489426071018496552012-04-15T23:10:00.001-07:002012-04-16T19:24:20.060-07:00Ken F. -- Rest in Peace with Oliver and Help Him LaughToday I went to a Pleasant Hill noon meeting before heading back to Sacramento. <br />
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I got to the meeting a little early and while I was enjoying a little quiet time, I noticed there was a notice on the wall with a friend's picture on it -- never good news for the person with their picture on such a piece of paper in an AA meeting place. They are always about members who no longer need to worry about their anonymity. Typically an obituary. Such notices fall into two types: they are about members who died sober or about members who died drunk/high.<br />
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The good news today was that Ken Finnegan, an AA member for over 37 years, died sober. Not sure, but I don't think all 37 years were sober years -- but I'm pretty sure he had over 20 when he died. Doesn't really matter either way. It is what is and neither outcome is based on some moral accomplishment or the lack thereof.<br />
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I write about this tonite though because of one sentence in the announcement: "Ken died in the loving presence of his family on April 10th at 8:15am." <br />
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That hit me like a ton of bricks. A low gutteral sound escaped from my throat before I could keep it quiet. I immediately walked out of the meeting place and sat on a bench outside where I could regroup. You see this last Tues at 8:15am is about when my daughter was sitting down at the hospital, getting hooked to the fetal monitor and having its silence tell her what she already suspected: her baby boy was dead.<br />
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Ken died at the same moment in time. <br />
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For several reasons, this fact, coincidence or moment of grace, this truth brought me a wave of peace. You had to know Ken to understand this. Ken was a funny funny man. In every way! He was probably 70+ years old and didn't give a shit what he looked like: he had a very almost Albino skinny ostrich looking frame. Usually wore a old tee shirt of some color totally at odds with 1970s style basketball short shorts. I'm sure there are State laws somewhere that make his attire illegal or at least requiring some sort of permit.<br />
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He was also always sharing some hokey joke at the end of a meeting that made all of us laugh no matter what tragedies had been shared during that same meeting -- and somehow all of them would strangely include some weirdly wise truth about life. <br />
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This all brought me comfort. To know Ken might be there for Oliver in whatever follows death. Neither Ken or Oliver will be alone. And they will be laughing their little asses off!<br />
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My moment of peace was then interrupted by a guy who's been struggling to get/stay sober since I came into AA: He came out and stood in front of me and then leaned down to give me a bear hug, telling me that he hoped I was ok. He'd heard me talk about Oliver's death several days ago. He was worried about me. Told me that he had always appreciated my kind and supportive shares ever since he first met me ten years ago. <br />
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I returned the compliment by saying I'd always been pulling for him to get and stay sober since I met him and that I hoped it would click for him soon. We hugged again and then joined the meeting. <br />
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The healing continues...<br />
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Take care!<br />
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Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-62017278637067860162012-04-15T19:41:00.001-07:002012-04-15T19:45:01.423-07:00Apparently, 40 Out of 86 Affirmations Were More Than Enough...Two years ago, as I was getting closer and closer to the birth of my first grandchild, I was finishing another David Richo book called, "When Love Meets Fear". Of course, as luck would have it, the more I progressed through the book, the more I became aware of fear and fearful things in my life. It was clear in each case that the fears were already there before I'd even touched the book, I was just becoming more aware of them and less afraid of most of them. Including some fears directly related to the impending birth of this first granddaughter.<br />
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At the end of this book, Richo included a list of "fear affirmations" and I ended up memorizing all 156 of these just in time for Harper's in November 2010. While Harper was coming into this world, I waited in the waiting room and wrote a blog on fear and quoted all 156 of those affirmations. http://mikelrecovery.blogspot.com/2010/11/taking-advantage-of-richos-fear.html?m=1<br />
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Not long after my youngest daughter's marriage to Daniel in June of last year, Rachel became pregnant and she was ecstatic! She seemed to live for having a baby. She, like her older sister Katie, always wanted above all else to be a mother. Me on the other hand? I started experiencing a resurgence of fear. I refreshed my memory of Richo's 156 fear affirmations, but that only seemed to increase the fears. I tried re-reading When Love Meets Fear and other than discovering that all 156 fear affirmations we plagiarized by his own book, that didn't help much either! But as I got toward the end of the book I discovered that Richo had also included another list of affirmations: 86 of them. I read through the first ten or so and nothing really struck me as insightful or beautiful (these being the usual requirements leading to me deciding to memorizing something...). But I was getting desperate as the baby was due in about a month. So I began memorizing them in groups of five. <br />
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I'd memorized 40 of them when Rachel learned that her son Oliver had died in her womb one day before he was due to be born. One day shot of 40 Weeks. Oliver was born the following day and that was five days ago. Yesterday, after the funeral service, I had to drive my son back to Berkeley so he could work today. On the way back to Sacramento today, I started reciting these initial 40 affirmations. As I did this I began to realize how each and every one of these affirmations had been a huge part of how I successfully walked through all that I have in the last five days, especially <br />
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#27: I accept the losses in my life and grieve them fully.<br />
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And<br />
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#28: I allow every human feeling. <br />
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This is precisely what I did as I began saving Yes to Grief Tuesday morning...<br />
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I will soon resume memorizing the rest of this batch of 86 affirmations, but for now at least these first 40 are more than enough!<br />
<br />
Thank you David Richo!<br />
<br />
Take care! Glad to be back blogging, even if by iPhone thumbing. <br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-74821776595813129792012-04-15T18:32:00.001-07:002012-04-20T07:53:04.211-07:00A Lesson on Grief...My world got a major jolt earlier this week, one that can't be fitted into a 164 character Tweet and one that can't be adequately conveyed through a post on this too long ignored recovery blog. My youngest daughter was due to have her baby boy (my 3rd grandchild) this last Wednesday, but for some unexplained reason, her baby Oliver stopped moving in her womb early Tuesday morning and after a quick trip over to the hospital, she learned (her husband was still outside entangled with an unknowingly cruel bureaucratic registration process) that Oliver had died sometime earlier that morning.<br />
<br />
Our family has walked through a grief in the last six days that has transformed each of us. We've all gone through doors which seemed impossibly difficult to pass through, but each of us did. And on the other side, we each took a breath and then realized there was yet another door, different for each of us but similar in the sense that each of them all appeared to be things we could simply not go through or endure. But, each of us did. And the grieving/healing process has repeated itself in each of us many many times in these last few days.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, we had a funeral service for Oliver. It was simply amazing. I can't go through all of it here right now, because I need to finish cleaning up our house, washing my clothes (not normally a task I'm permitted to do because I tend to have a habit of making clothes come out of the wash in different colors than they went into the washer with...which never causes me a problem because I'm gleefully colorblind!) and then heading back up to Sacramento to be with my wife, daughter, son-in-law for another day or so. Sometime this coming week, we will be burying Oliver: in a Catholic cemetery not more than 2 miles from my daughter's home and in a special area of the cemetery called the Holy Family section (it's overseen by a large statute of the Holy Family, Joseph, Mary and the child Jesus) and in a even more special area of that which is called the "baby area". It's an area reserved for babies and infants to be buried: you can see it from a distance, lots of balloons, plastic Easter eggs, toys, other keepsakes unique to each child buried there. While that's a major hurdle for Rachel (my daughter) and her husband to go through, it's only one more door of grief for each of us to pass through. I have no doubt there will be many more. But the healing has begun.<br />
<br />
At yesterday's service, I gave a talk as Oliver's grandfather and Rachel's father. Before the talk, I welcomed everyone and introduced myself as one of Oliver's grandfathers -- but I informed them all that my three children were teaching their children, my grandchildren, to call me "Ho Ho" because of my slightly oversized belly, white beard, white hair and my laugh. I then shared with them what Oliver's "purpose in life" had been for me. My wife and daugher had just passed out little cards to everyone in the chapel for them to complete the following sentence: Oliver's purpose in life was....<br />
<br />
While this might not seem at all related to my "recovery" from alcoholism, trust me, it has everything to do with my recovery. Without question, were it not for my getting sober over ten years ago and were it not for all the things I've done over the last three years to stay sober (I now realize I've been doing far more than to just "stay sober" -- I've really been learning how to live!!) -- well, I would not have been able to get through the challenges encountered over the last six days. And I have gotten through them, and far more than that. More about that later. Here's my talk which I wrote on my iPhone from 3 to 5:30am the morning of Oliver's funeral service....<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Oliver's purpose in my life...was to teach me about Grief</u></strong><br />
<br />
I think I've always seen grief to be a bottomless dark hole into which I would fall were I ever to give it permission to come up out of me and into the light. This explains why, until now, I've always said No to Grief.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong> No! Not now! Some other time! Don't you dare cry! Control!</strong></div><br />
After years of practice, these negative words all faded into silence. Nothingness. Grief became emptiness. A lack of feeling. A lack of emotion. An absence of love. A hole of no color or depth or width or time.<br />
<br />
When I learned of Oliver's death on Tuesday morning, I felt nothing. No feeling. I simply followed directions and began doing what I thought I was supposed to do. And I did that for five minutes.<br />
<br />
And then I felt a sound welling up from deep within me and I knew it was asking, pleading to be heard. And then, for some inexplicable miraculous reason I said Yes to this sound not knowing who or what it was.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>It was Grief and I said Yes!</strong> </div><br />
The sounds of grief started as a slow wailing guttural groan of deepest sadness and pain. The sounds were followed immediately by tears, lots of tears! I said Yes to them too! And then came the words! Lots of words! Angry vulgar loud words not normally spoken in Churches or Classrooms or at dinner tables or living rooms...and certainly not funeral homes! Or in front of children! The two biggest words were No! and Why?<br />
<br />
Thank God these vulgar words were spoken and washed clean by the tears! And the even more meaningfull non-word sounds of Grief. This lasted for thirty minutes. By that time, I had arrived at the hospital where my baby girl Rachel was dealing with a grief I'd never prepared her for -- because I was never taught about grief as an adult subject, as a part of life, as a natural and essential part and parcel of love. I didn't feel guilty about this, I only felt the longing to hold and comfort my baby girl Rachel, my protector, my advocate, my fan. Rachel. The name Rachel means Gentle in Suffering.<br />
<br />
For the first time in my life, I have really been there for Rachel. I've held her, cried with her, kissed her forehead and cheeks, grieved with her. And encouraged her grief. <br />
<br />
And then, what has been most difficult for me as parent, as dad, As pops, I had to let her go.<br />
<br />
What she is walking through is something I can not go through at this time in my life: the death of one's child in their womb, the birth of a son, the holding and caressing of his body for the first, and then the last time. I cannot do any of these things. Yet.<br />
<br />
All I can do is be there for her as she continues to walk through a series of massive looking doors, all of which appear to have loud frightening sounds coming from behind them. And I know that she will walk through each one of them with courage, determination, laughter and wit. And oh, with beautiful and powerful and grace filled written words! I know this because I have seen her do this repeatedly for the last five days. A Woman Warrior!<br />
<br />
So it appears I was blindsided this week not by Death but by Life. I've learned the painful lesson that Death is an essential critical part of life. Over the last 58 years, I'd fallen asleep to this wonder-filled fact: all life has a beginning, a middle and an end.<br />
<br />
Oliver Martin Gs life's beginning, middle and end lasted a day short of forty weeks. In that all too short time, he was wonderfully loved and nurtured by a mother and father and a large group of extended holy family and friends. In that short life he touched and transformed me in ways I could have never imagined or even hoped.<br />
<br />
Oliver, Rachel and Daniel are my heroes.<br />
<br />
Life has a beginning, a middle, an end and an after.<br />
<br />
We are Oliver's after.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">"For all that has been, I say Thanks!<br />
For all that will be, I say Yes!"</blockquote>(I forget who said this, it certainly wasn't me!)Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-75478929512467940712012-04-02T20:10:00.000-07:002012-04-02T20:10:44.881-07:00New MikeLRecovery Twitter account...My life continues to be overfull, but I am enjoying most every moment. And the moments I don't particularly like, seem to be full of wisdom somewhere down the path.<br />
<br />
Because of my time constraints, I've been playing with a Twitter version of my blog and I've branded it in the same MikeLRecovery fashion:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/#!/MikeLRecovery">https://twitter.com/#!/MikeLRecovery</a><br />
<br />
What I'm finding most challenging is the restriction within Twitterdom that allows only 164 characters to a post. I'm not a short story kinda guy, but it's been fun trying.<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-34701645352995592252011-11-16T02:16:00.001-08:002011-11-16T02:56:35.112-08:00Checking Back in...Do you ever get so disconnected from something or someone that it's hard to get reconnected? I feel that's what happened with me and blogging. Life got so full that something had to give and blogging was it. Now I know I need to get back in touch with this important part of my recovery. And it's hard getting started again. <br />
<br />
Turns out the key ingredient to a solution is pain. I'm away from home for a three day business conference in Orlando, Florida. I am in a fancy resort for three days, don't know anyone, very uncomfortable, lonely. <br />
<br />
Heard the other day that alcoholics treat loneliness with isolation. It struck me true then. And even more now.<br />
<br />
Thus, this blog.<br />
<br />
So what have I been doing to stay sober?<br />
<ul>
<li>Going to lots of meetings (1-2 per day)</li>
<li>Listening (95%) and talking (5%) in meetings</li>
<li>Chairing (telling my experience/strength/hope) in meetings (avg 2/month)</li>
<li>Getting together regularly with sponsees (10 active sponsees, meet for an hour once every two weeks or a month depending on their needs and my availability)</li>
<li>Reading spiritual books (Pema Chodrin's my recent favorite)</li>
<li>Meditation (mostly reciting things memorized over last ten years while I commute to/from work each day); listing to CDs by Jack Kornfield (Insight Meditation) and Pema Chodrin (The Fearless Heart))</li>
<li>Started a Recovery Twitter account: @MikeLRecovery (short stories have never been my strong suit -- but I thought I'd give this a shot just to try something different -- committing to tweet 4-5 times a week)</li>
</ul>
My family is growing: wife and I are growing older (celebrated 30th wedding anniversary this year); my granddaughter turns a year old soon and we are expecting two more grandchildren shortly: my son (still clean/sober after 10 1/2 years even though he's on some sort of meeting hiatus) and his girlfriend are expecting a girl in December and my youngest daughter and her husband are expecting a boy in April. My children are all living their own lives, yet have remained connected with us and each other. I'm truly blessed. I think that this area of my life is what has been getting more of my energy in the last six months and that's a good thing. I have a tendency to overdo things (to put it mildly!) and I have to constantly be on guard that my recovery work does not overshadow my family life. <br />
<br />
Balance: defined as that moment in time that I pass by when swinging back and forth between one extreme and the other!<br />
<br />
OK, that's enough from me. It's close to six a.m. and I need a quick nap before going out into that scary world!<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-47027242522833276292011-07-11T13:42:00.000-07:002011-07-11T14:12:42.505-07:00Our PartLast night I got to get away to a meeting, my first once since beginning my vacation almost a week ago. It was a small group in a small Oregon coast town. They each seemed to know each other as the back of their own hands and welcomed me as a visitor without any hesitation. Very informal format which came from the fact that they all knew each other so well. When no one stepped up with a topic, they grabbed one of the daily meditation/reading books and made that the topic: I heard the reading to talk about relationships and the sickening role resentments can play in relationships if we let them. Others heard anything from the 4th, 5th and 6th steps, or an opportunity to share their story of recovery with a fresh face (me) in the meeting.<br />
<br />
I shared with them my own most recent experience with deep hurt morphing into resentment and how AA had taught me the importance of focusing on "our part" if we are to find any sense of peace and serenity in our recovery. This experience came during my youngest daughter's wedding reception about a month ago now. <br />
<br />
Rachel had asked me about a week before the wedding to give a talk at the reception. This meant a lot to me and for the entire week between then and the wedding, I spent numerous hours crafting the perfect talk for my daughter and her soon to be husband. I never wrote a thing down on paper. I just started drafting my talk out loud in the car as I drove to a from work that week. The centerpiece of the talk was a quote that I had memorized years ago (even before I was sober) from a book called "The Magical Child" by Jonathan Chilton Pierce. I began reading that book shortly after our first child was born and something at the beginning of the second chapter gave me a great sense of peace and comfort at the overwhelming panic I began to experience at the thought of what this newborn child was going to need from me and how little prepared I felt to provide what she so needed from me. The quote was:<br />
<br />
<blockquote></blockquote>Matrix is Latin for the word womb. From that word, we get the words matter, material, mater, mother and so on. These all refer to the basic stuff, the physical substance from which all life derives.<br />
<br />
The womb offers three gifts to the newly forming life: a sense of possibility, a sense of energy with which to explore those possibilities and a safe place from which those explorations can take place.<br />
<br />
Whenever these three needs are met, we have a matrix. And the growth of intelligence takes place by utilizing the energy given to explore the possibilities given while standing in the safe place given by the matrix.<blockquote></blockquote><br />
By the time the day of the wedding arrived, my talk was ready for primetime. It was perfect. I had every word right, the tones and inflections just right. At the end of each practice recitation, I cried. And I knew that my words would strike my daughter the same way. I was ready.<br />
<br />
Just before it came time for me to give my talk, my son (who was Rachel's Maid of Honor) and my oldest daughter Katie (who served as Rachel's Matron of Honor) gave their talk to their sister and her new husband. It was wonderful. My son came "this" close to being inappropriate about three or four times, but always stayed this side of the line he's spent years crossing. During their talk, my wife leaned over to me and asked me to walk down to them and take the microphone from them and ask them to "hurry it up". I looked at her aghast and she said, "No, if you do it, it will be funny! If I do it, it will look controlling." I responded that "It wouldn't be funny even if I did it--because it WAS controlling!" Shortly after that, their talk came to a funny and heartfelt end and the microphone was turned over to me to say a few short words to Rachel and Daniel.<br />
<br />
I walked down and took the microphone and began my talk. I shared that when I was their age, I discovered what was most important to me to accomplish in life and that was to become a father, a parent. That shortly thereafter, I met Nancy and fell in love. We were married and began having children. And I got scared. Then someone gave me a book called The Magical Child by Jonathan Chilton Pierce.<br />
<br />
At that point, I realized that someone, my wife, was now standing beside me. Nancy reached out and took the mic and said, "Mike, can you hurry it up? We only have this place until 10 o'clock!" Everyone laughed, I suppose all of them know I don't have a short story in me. I didn't laugh though because it threw me off balance as I was trying to recite the perfect talk to my daughter and I realized there was no way to finish this talk as I had planned it in my head ahead of time. As Nancy walked away, I knew that my perfect talk had been destroyed but that I couldn't do anything but try to move forward without making a complete disaster out of it. So, I went on to quote most of Pierce's magical words, left off the last sentence and also some other parts of the remaining part of my perfect talk. No one but me knew that their was anything left out. All of them, including Rachel, thought it was a beautiful talk -- very much from my heart, very much Mike. Everyone but me.<br />
<br />
Me? I was deeply hurt. I was angry that Nancy had attempted to control the situation -- for whatever reason that might have been for her. I blamed her for ruining my perfect talk, my perfect moment, my perfect gift to my daughter. Ruining something that simply could not be recreated or repaired. That moment was over and done with. There was no way to rewind or <br />
"do over". But I knew that I could not share my hurt with my wife -- it would destroy her. She had put so much into creating the perfect wedding for our daughter: collecting 200 dinner plates from garage sales and antique shops over the last year that would make this a unique event for our guests, finding the perfect venue for this wedding, the perfect flowers, the table gifts for our guests (small Heinz catsup bottles with Rachel and Daniel's names and wedding date--Rachel is a catsup addict), etc. If she knew that her funny interruption of my talk, meant only to keep things "light" when I had a tendency to be serious and philosophical and longwinded, had actually hurt my feelings at such a deep level, it would kill her and destroy her memory of this wonderful wedding day. <br />
<br />
So I kept my hurt inside and tried to rationalize it away. I thought of ways that I could get around this unfortunate situation without talking it out with my wife: i.e., I could formalize my talk "in full" onto a plaque and give it to them on their 30 day anniversary, I could "let it go" and move on, etc. But the hurt remained and within two days it had morphed into a full blown resentment. Resentment is a decision to hold on to a feeling beyond its normal lifetime. And that's what I did: I held on and more, I nursed it and fed it. And it grew. By Monday, all it took was some little annoying comment made by my wife before I snapped at her with far more feeling than her comment deserved. And she snapped back with deeply held hurts/resentments of her own. Because we were in the company of other family members, we covered over our anger "until later". <br />
<br />
When "later" arrived that evening after all family and friends had left to return home, Nancy look over at me and asked, "Well, are you going to apologize for what happened today?" I looked at her and kept all my vicious responses inside my head where they belonged and said nothing. Silence is my favorite weapon in battles like this--although at the time, I really don't realize I'm using this as a weapon -- I am just trying not to hurt someone I love and the only way I know how to do this when I'm feeling such strong and powerful emotions is to be silent. Of course, that silence is the one thing that hurts Nancy the most.<br />
<br />
So, she then asked, "Is this apology going to be something that comes in a day or so, or after a week?" I keep my silence as long as I could and ended it by saying the kindest thing I could, "I'm leaning more toward a week...." Amazingly, she didn't reply with anything other than her own silence.<br />
<br />
The next day, I got up early and went to an early meeting before heading to work. It was a step meeting and they were reading Step 4 from the 12x12. For some reason, this morning, the whole chapter spoke directly to me and what I had been going through in the last four days and unfortunately, it was all about looking for my part in this whole ordeal. I didn't want to hear anything but "her part" but I realized that focusing on her part was what I had been doing for all of the last four days and all that had gotten me was more and more suffering and more and more pain. As I surrendered to the idea that I could get relief from this suffering and pain only by taking a serious and careful look at "my part" did things start to change for me. I briefly shared my discovery of my part with the group: my part was all the expectations I had placed in coming up with the perfect talk, giving that perfect talk at this one point in time and history "no matter what", my thinking I had some control over the outcome of all my preparations and planning and efforts, and, most of all, my decision after my wife's interruption not to go ahead by reciting exactly what I had planned without any edits or rushing things! True, she interrupted my perfect talk, but I'm the one who changed the talk from that point forward. Not her. Me. God, I hate it when I'm wrong!<br />
<br />
I drove to work as usual, but I spent the time again reviewing my part in all of this and seeing that I needed to make an amends to her rather than holding on to the falsehood that she owed me a huge amends... That night, as I was leaving work (trying to avoid the inevitable I suppose...) I texted her and told her that "I was going to be home around 7, with humble pie and an apology." She replied quickly that "Blackberry would be sufficient...". I knew it was going to be alright then. That night, I started off my apology by telling her that I needed her to understand that what I was going to tell her that night had NOTHING to do with her or anything that she had done. I had discovered earlier that day what had been bothering me for the last five days was something that I had done, even though I had been mistakenly thinking it was something she had done to hurt me the day of Rachel's wedding. I told her that earlier that day, it dawned on me that it wasn't anything she had done that had really hurt me, but rather, what I had done myself that was the true cause of my hurt. That said, I told her the story of what I saw happening the night of my "perfect talk" and how hurt I was by what happened that night after her interruption.<br />
<br />
As expected, my sharing this information with her hurt her deeply and profoundly. She stood up crying, saying that I had ruined the memory of this wedding for her... All feelings that she had a perfect right to have and to feel and to share with me, but none of which really had anything to do with me (thank God I'd learned something in these years of recovery!). After a few minutes of some painful sharing, all things between us came back together and we were reconnected again in no more than 10 minutes. My irrational fear of her feelings and reactions has always been a self-constructed roadblock to me being myself and expressing my feelings to this woman who I love and adore more than anyone on the planet. You'd think after more than 30 years of marriage I would get over this.... But then, if you were thinking that, I suspect that you don't have 30 years of marriage!<br />
<br />
By the time the next night came around, she was able to share with me that earlier at work, one of the nuns at her school walked up to her and said that her favorite part of the whole wedding was when Nancy interrupted Mike's talk (this nun was my former Department Chair when I taught religion at this same school where my wife is now principal...) --- sure, Mike's talk was great and touching and "pure Mike!" it was Nancy's lighthearted interruption that brought a lightness to the whole event that made this one of the perfect Mike/Nancy gatherings. And we laughed. And then I began rubbing her feet --- a self-imposed penance that I've lived now for nine and a half years of recovery and expect to be doing for the remainder of that recovery and for the remainder of this life/marriage.<br />
<br />
The freedom gained by focusing on my part has been great to be sure.<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-74449854258281056072011-07-09T13:20:00.000-07:002011-07-09T13:23:32.904-07:00Time AwayMy wife and I have taken two weeks off and are spending time away from everything here at a house on the Oregon coast. Joining us is a couple who are long time friends. I'm barely able to access the internet, but it's sufficient to access my neglected recovery blog. My dependence on technology has shown itself in various withdrawal pains and cravings. My other unhealthy addictions to other things have also come to the fore: addicion to work, to helping others, to busyness, to meetings, to noise, to projects, etc.<br />
<br />
We've been away now for almost five days now and it's been great. We stay up late playing games and telling stories about things that have happened over the last year since we saw each other: birth of our first granddaughter, engagement and marriage of our youngest daughter, and the announcement by my son and his girlfriend that they are expecting a child this coming December.... We had a guest for dinner last night, a friend of Randy's who has been his fishing buddy for years. He happens to be 12 or 13 years sober and very active in AA. We didn't get a chance to talk much or even share our common bond out loud. But it was nice to have another AA close at hand and know that we had a bond that didn't need to be talked about. Lots of laughter and storytelling.<br />
<br />
My favorite activity of all though has been catching up on reading. Downloaded the 1st edition of Alcoholics Anonymous and have enjoyed reading all the stories included in that and subsequent editions of the Big Book. <br />
<br />
Also reading "The Fifth Agreement" by Don Miguel Ruiz and his son Jose. A great followup to The Four Agreements. 1. Be impeccable with your word. 2. Don't take anything personally. 3. Don't make assumptions. 4. Always do your best. And now, 5. Be skeptical; learn to listen. I totally buy into this Toltec wisdom tradition which basically says that since a very early point in our growing up, we let go of our innate sense that we were perfect just the way we were and saw things without judgment or wishes that thing were different than they were....and began to accept the teachings of others that we could be bad, that we should be good, that we needed to conform in order to be accepted and acceptable, that we could't/shouldn't trust our perceptions or thoughts or feelings.... And in so doing, began adopting certain "agreements" as to how reality should be interpreted and analyzed. These agreements became part of our self and they have become the basis of our self-evaluation and of our evaluation of all of reality. The problem is that these agreements are all false and our adoption of them is the bottom-line cause of all our suffering. Ruiz proposes five new agreements that, as we adopt them and commit ourselves to living as best we can, allow us to regain that childlike view of ourselves and our world as being perfect just the way we are.<br />
<br />
These four agreements have been helpful to me over the last couple of years. I often use them whenever I'm feeling a bit "off the beam" -- and usually I'm able to see where my failure to adhere to one of more of these four commitments has led me to the suffering I'm experiencing. Sometimes my use of words to hurt others, or more frequently myself!, is this underlying cause of my suffering. Other times, it's the decision to take someone else's words or actions as though they had something to do with me. Other times, the suffering is the result of assumptions I've made about something or someone that simply have no bearing in reality. Or the expectation that I should always be perfect in my actions or thoughts. Whatever: suffering is always self-imposed and self-generated. I then chuckle to myself about this and reacquaint myself with each of the agreements and move forward a little lighter than I was before.<br />
<br />
This new 5th agreement seems to hold much potential in that it stresses the importance of stepping back from my instant reflex reactions to reality "as Mike sees it"; the importance of Doubt when looking at Reality as I tend to interpret it using untrue assessment rules learned by me over the last 58 years; and the importance of just seeing things as they are in the light of awareness. <br />
<br />
These five agreements are a nice addition to my kit of spiritual tools in recovery.<br />
<br />
OK, back to my time away.<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-8710487063326436262011-05-22T20:35:00.000-07:002011-05-22T20:37:34.231-07:00Our CallingFor th last two months I've been running on all cylinders in all areas of my life. Work has been consuming me with multiple major projects, any one of which could have occupied me and my staff for a full year. My family is expanding and changing on what seems to be a daily basis: youngest daughter getting married next month, first grandchild reaching her six month milestone with an infectious smile, a second grandchild (my son's) due before end of year. My recovery program has continued to escalate, more sponsees than I feel comfortable with, but for now, haven't been willing to say no when someone asks (primarily because I could always give up a meeting or two if needed since I still go to 10 or more meetings a week).<br />
<br />
But in the last two months or so, I was presented with some challenges with one of my sponsees that kept me "just before" being <em>over</em>whelmed at almost a constant state of affairs. But, as suggested by one of my mentors in AA, I needed to simply take things one whelm at a time --- otherwise, I'd get overwhelmed! The challenge came with the guy who first asked me to be his sponsor over five and a half years ago: late last year he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and he successfully walked through all the fears that came with that diagnosis and had the surgery to remove his prostate early this year. During his two month recovery at home, it seemed like his anxiety levels began to gradually increase -- I thought due to having too much time on his hands and not being used to that. I suggested going to more meetings than he was used to and he did. Nevertheless, he had something sort of blindside him in February and as a result of that, his mental health began to degrade on a daily basis and within a few weeks I had to have him committed to a psyche hospital because he was becoming a danger to himself. After a harrowing several weeks in and out of these mental health hospitals, he's now back at home and beginning an intensive outpatient program to get his feet back on the ground. Miraculously, through all of this, he's stayed sober. Taking a drink didn't cross his mind: taking his life did.<br />
<br />
Through all of that, I was doing everything I could to help him walk through this challenge. I broke down and met with my sponsor about half way through the process and asked him for feedback in terms of setting boundaries, but also with dealing with the certainty that I needed to do everything within my power to help my friend. That meeting was tremendously helpful. He listened, asked a few insightful questions (he's a lawyer, so this is one of his great strengths!) and then shared a story with me that he'd never shared with anyone else: he'd walked through something very similar to what I was dealing with now and he shared with me how he approached his challenge. He shared the story not to suggest that I needed to do what he did, but rather, just because his story was all he could offer me. I could take what seemed to work for me and leave the rest... I walked away with a greater sense of peace about what I was doing and that it was right for me.<br />
<br />
Within a day or so of that meeting with my sponsor, I was reading a book by David Richo called "The Five Things We Cannot Change" and at the beginning of the section I was reading, Richo quoted something from George Bernard Shaw called "The Calling":<br />
<blockquote>This is the true joy in living: being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish, little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world is not devoting itself to making you happy!</blockquote>This quote hit me like a ton of bricks! I reminded me of the chapter on the 12th Step in the 12x12 wherein it states in very first paragraph that "the theme of the twelfth step is the joy of living" and then restates slightly differently amd even more powerfully in the very last paragraph of that same chapter, "the theme of the twelfth step is the joy of good living." Shaw was saying essentially the same thing: the joy of living comes by way of "being used for a purpose" (for me, helping other suffering alcoholics) and knowing that that purpose is a "mighty one"; that this service is done without much regard for prudence or balance, but rather, by throwing ones self into service without regard to personal hardship or reward. That in doing this, we obtain true joy.<br />
<br />
I committed this quote to memory over the next day or so and have repeated it to myself several times a day during my commute to/from work. It always fills me with renewed strength and commitment to doing what I've been called to do: help other suffering alcoholics. My recovery has taken on a renewed vitality and I don't care to question its source.<br />
<br />
As things seem to be settling down a little now, I'm glad to get back to some blogging which is one of the things I've had to cut back on over the last couple of months. Just not enough hours in the day.<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-52687411714627802172011-03-04T20:21:00.000-08:002011-03-04T20:23:32.830-08:00The Two Stages of My Alcoholism (there is no 3rd Stage)Over the last couple of weeks, I've been realizing that there really are only two stages in my alcoholism: the first stage was when I could stop and the second stage is when I couldn't stop. For me, there was and is no third stage.<br />
<br />
My first stage started from the time when I took my first drink, I was probably 17 years old. When I took that drink, strangely enough, I took it with the clear intent that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it without becoming an alcoholic like my dad. When I was 21, my dad's drinking took off downhill and he gradually descended into a lonely and isolated existence and eventually death. My way of proving to my self that I was not an alcoholic like him was to demonstrate the ability to stop drinking. And whenever my drinking looked like it was coming close to alcoholic, I would stop. The only problem to this strategy was that I would always reach a point in time when I'd realize that I had "really" stopped and therefore, I was not an alcoholic. And inevitably, whenever I proved to myself that I wasn't an alcoholic, I would drink! Isn't that the perfect test for alcoholism?<br />
<br />
That first stage lasted almost 30 years. It ultimately ended when my son entered an adolescent chemical dependency program when he was 15. In order for him to get into that program, my wife and I had to agree to a couple of conditions, the most crisis-invoking for me was the one that "strongly suggested" that I stop all alcohol and drug use while my son was in that 3-6 month outpatient program. That's the moment I moved into the second stage of my alcoholism, the "I can't stop" stage. I knew as soon as the counselor (a recovering heroin addict now psychologist...) asked me to stop that there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to stop. And I knew equally well that I could not tell them (my wife and son were also in the room) that I could not stop. So I lied and convinced them that I would certainly stop if it would help my son learn how to "live life without chemical assistance" as they referred to their plan for him and now his mother and me.<br />
<br />
I hid my drinking successfully from everyone but me and the strangers who saw me drinking for another 10 months. At the end of 5 months, my son experienced some sort of change and things all clicked for him. He's been clean now for almost 10 years. I watched him from a safe distance for another 5 months and then one night I went to pick him up after his Friday night Marijuana Anonymous meeting (he went to every 12 step program there was before ultimately finding a home in NA...) and he smelled liquor on my breath. He asked, without anger, if I had been drinking and I lied. I wanted to tell him the truth -- not only had I been drinking while he was in that meeting, I had done the same thing for almost 10 months while he was going to 10 to 14 meetings a week. I drank almost everytime after dropping him off at a meeting. But what kept me from telling him the truth was that if he knew I was drinking, he would begin expecting me to stop.<br />
<br />
And I simply could not stop!<br />
<br />
He accepted my assertion and left me to my misery. The next morning, I woke up at 6am with the clarity of thought: I can't stop drinking! I'd had that same thought every morning for 10 months and for many mornings before that.... But that morning, a second thought came to me: not being able to stop is called alcoholism and alcoholism is a disease. My body is different. <br />
<br />
All of a sudden everything I had been doing in relation to my drinking made perfect sense! I couldn't stop because my body was different! Wow! What followed then was another thought and that was, I can do something about this. I can do what Pat has been doing. I can try to stay sober for one day.<br />
<br />
You know, when I hear people talk about the day or moment that they were finally able to stop drinking, I cringe inside. You see, I have decided not to describe what happened that morning of October 20, 2001 as the morning I stopped drinking. Not even for one day. What happened that morning is that I "stopped stopping" and starting putting effort into staying sober a day at a time.<br />
<br />
So now whenever I hear someone come back into the program, full of shame and guilt for having drank "again", I suspect that much of their guilt and shame is based on the false idea that they are the only one in the room "who can't stop drinking." What I try to do, as gently and as kindly as I can, is let them know that they are not alone in the room. You see, I can't stop drinking either! And the solution I found over nine years ago was that instead of trying to stop, I just redirected my attention toward the goal of staying sober today.<br />
<br />
For me, there is no third stage of alcoholism. This is a physical, permanent and progressive disease. That doesn't go away, doesn't get cured. What happened for me, as the result of some moment of grace and the impact of witnessing my own son's recovery from this same hopeless state of mind and body, is that I woke up and accepted who and what I was: an alcoholic, pure and simple. Once I passed into the second stage of this disease, the only possible outcomes were ever increasing suffering and isolation, death or recovery.<br />
<br />
Recovery has involved much work, but within a fairly short period of time, the process seems to have taken on a life of its own. I don't do things with the intent to stay sober or to avoid the first drink. I do the things because they fill my life with meaning, peace, joy, purpose and love. My life is full, if not overflowing. I am connected to a large web of other recovering alcoholics and much of my day is spent doing something to help another alcoholic in a myriad of ways. <br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-58964764288058832972011-01-17T12:18:00.000-08:002011-01-17T19:04:39.517-08:00Away from My PeepsI am away for a long weekend in Phoenix with my wife and youngest daughter. This is my fourth day in a row without a meeting and we won't get back home until late tonight. It's rare that I go four days without a meeting and I'm missing my peeps greatly. What I've been doing to stay sober these last few days is to read books somehow related to my recovery. Yesterday, my brother-in-law gave me a book that he thought I might like: it's by Mel B. and is called <em>Three Recovery Classics</em>. The idea behind the book was to provide people in recovery with access to three key pieces of literature that were a big part of Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith's life in recovery. The three works are: <em>As a Man Thinketh</em> by James Allen, <em>The Greatest Thing in the World</em> by Henry Drummond and <em>The St. Francis Prayer</em>.<br />
<br />
I think that Mike gave it to me because he knows I love reading anything about the history of AA and anything about recovery in general. Not sure where he got the book, but it's autographed by the author. The book has this "I haven't been read" feeling to it, so I'm guessing that Mike gave it to me just to free up a little space on his book shelf. He's not as "in" to AA as I am and that's perfectly fine with me. <br />
<br />
<em>As a Man Thinketh</em> is a really good book and fits very well into my own experience: my thinking, right or wrong, accurate or inaccurate, has a lot more to do with my circumstances in life than chance, happenstance, luck or a Santa Claus-like God. <br />
<br />
As I mentioned in one of my early blogs, I developed this weird habit, early on in my recovery, of memorizing all sorts of things that I cam across in my recovery reading. In a sense, I was almost "brainwashing" myself by committing to memory all sorts of things that I found beautiful or utterly true for me. By repeating them over and over, they eventually became part of my way of seeing and interpreting things that were happening in my life. Some of them became tools for personal inventory or self-examination. As I read through <em>As a Man Thinketh</em> I realized that I couldn't but agree with almost everything he said. The same was true for Drummond's book on Love (which "is" <em>The Greatest Thing in the World</em>).<br />
<br />
Whatever. Reading this book helped me reconnect with another alcoholic (Mel B.) and that sets things back on path for me. Like Bill W. and Dr. Bob, I've found much value in reading non-AA literature and using it to give greater depth and width to my own recovery. What I most looked forward to in reading these early classics was not so much the truth that they might contain, but rather, I looked forward to finding more about the founders of AA through sharing something that they read and incorporated into their lives and their writings. Helps me put more "context" into their writings.<br />
<br />
In addition to this book, I also was able to talk to a sponsee yesterday and that was great. He's having a hard time not only with staying sober but also with depression and isolation. The depression and isolation seem to feed on each other and he tends to get caught in a very negative cycle with these-----but at least this time he's refrained from drinking during this bout with darkness and loneliness.<br />
<br />
There's a part of me that wants to suggest refocusing his attention to more positive things (as suggested by James Allen) or on helping/loving others as a means to get out of himself (as suggested by Drummond) --- but making such suggestions has rarely been my way (as suggested by Dr. Earle!). I may pass on this book, <em>Three Recovery Classics</em>, though --- it might suggest some alternative ways out of the painful place he tends to go when he runs out of solutions.<br />
<br />
I am very much looking forward to returning to my home and work and regular routines. I like routine. Except when I don't.<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-88973378794214544112010-12-08T22:16:00.000-08:002010-12-08T22:19:43.535-08:00The Toolkit was Seemingly Empty...Some time ago, I wrote a blog about one of the unique characteristics about the AA "kit of spiritual tools" or what is oftentimes referred to as the AA toolkit: what's unique about this toolkit is that most recovering alcoholics will go through their sobriety adding new and different tools to that kit and over time, they find that they freqently have to dig through the toolkit to find just the right tool for the challenge or problem facing them any one particular day. But, at least according to the oldtimer I was listening to awhile ago, there will always come a day in every recovering alcoholic's life when he or she reaches into their toolkit only to discover that the kit is completely empty and all that seems to remain is the idea or thought of "just one drink." Luckily for us, the AA toolkit is designed for such a day because in the bottom of every toolkit is a note. And the note says, "You need more tools!"<br />
<br />
Well, last week I was driving to work and I was doing my typical routine of reciting some stuff that I'd memorized as a part of my 11th step work (it was David Richo's 156 Fear Affirmations). I'd only recited a few of them when I began thinking about a guy that I had been trying to help out for the last couple of weeks. He'd been in recovery for several months and had a few relapses over the last year or so. After the last relapse, he'd decided to make a change in sponsors and had asked me to be his new sponsor. I was honored and began meeting with him once every week or so, had created a private recovery blog for him and had him posting a daily plan each night for maintaining his sobriety on the coming day. After a few weeks, he simply disappeared: he stopped coming to meetings, didn't answer my calls or emails, stopped blogging. Others in the program also reported that he'd stopped communicating with him and we all feared that he'd either relapsed or was in a dangerous period of isolation.<br />
<br />
The non-responsiveness of this guy had gone on more than a week or so and I was growing more and more concerned. Then, I'd hear from someone that he'd returned their call and that he was alive. Drinking, but alive. I tried various attempts at communicating with him and tried to balance that with some level of detachment. I almost resorted to going to an Alanon meeting. ;-}<br />
<br />
Then this Friday on my way to work, I thought I'd try calling him another time. I did and the call went straight to voicemail. I tried to say something kind, hopeful, slightly funny....and then wished him well. Asking him to let me know if there was anything I could do to help him get sober again. Anything.<br />
<br />
When I got off the phone, I noticed something surprising to me: I felt better. Prior to the call, I'd had a lingering sense of sadness, helpless, powerlessness in terms of my own abilility or inability to help this guy at this point in his recovery. I'd often said that I have the philosphy as a sponsor to let the disease do all the hard work and then when the alcoholic is desperate enough to "stop stopping" and start trying to get or stay sober, then I reach out my hand to help in whatever way I can.<br />
<br />
Hmmm, the phone call made me feel better! Know that I've never been one who used the "tool" of calling other recoverying alcoholics as a part of my daily routine: I don't like the phone, I don't like talking to people who I can't see --- actually, I'm not sure I like talking to people even when I can see them! But this day, I found out that calling another struggling alcoholic and trying to offer some sort of help in that manner, made me feel better! I'd found a new tool at the most surprising time in my sobriety.<br />
<br />
So, I did what I oftentimes do when I find something that works: I decided to try it again! I thought of another guy I had been thinking about recently: he was what I refer to as an "inactive sponsee" of mine: these are guys who I had actively sponsored for some time, but for some reason or another had disconnected from me and yet still considered me to be their sponsor. I sometimes joke that these guys had stolen my name and used it to get annoying folks off their backs in terms of "do you have a sponsor?" sorts of questions. Sure, they would say, I've got a sponsor -- a great sponsor! His name is Mike. All in the hopes that that answer would make these AA pests leave them alone. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I began thinking of this one particular inactive sponsee: he'd met with me once about six months ago (after about a six month period of disappearing off of the horizon...) and asked me to continue being his sponsor. We had a nice talk over coffee and then he disappeared again. I tried a couple of times to call him, calls all went to unanswered voicemail hell. A few weeks ago, someone had told me that they'd seen this guy the day before: that he was homeless (his wife had kicked him out of the house some weeks ago...) and drunk. So, last Friday, I thought I'd give this "calling another suffering alcoholic" tool another test: I called him and it went immediately to voicemail. I wasn't really surprised, wasn't even sure he still had cell phone service, but I left of message anyway saying that I was thinking of him, that I hoped that he was sober and well, and that if there was anything I could do to help him in his recovery, please give me a call. After leaving the message, I noticed the same consequence as the first call: I felt even better!<br />
<br />
So, I tried it again: this time I called a guy that I knew from one of the early morning meetings that I've gone to for almost eight years: he had been a regular at that meeting, really dove into the program, got a sponsor, worked the steps, made coffee, became a secretary, did various types of service. A really nice guy and I loved how he simply added color and life and vitality to the meeting as his sobriety matured. I'd not seen him around for awhile and a few weeks after Halloween this year, I'd heard from a mutual friend that this guy had had a relapse, short in duration but devastating in effect. I'd called him a few weeks ago and he was encouraged by that call. So this last Friday, I made a call to him as my 3rd test of this newfangled tool. <br />
<br />
Amazingly, he answered my call! My first thought was, "Oh my God, now what do I do!" I'd fully expected to get another voicemail and now he goes and screws it up by answering my call! Anyway, after my initial shock, we had a great conversation lasting almost 30 minutes. During that call, I even got a call back from the homeless sponsee -- I let that call go to voicemail and felt some Alanon pride coming back for doing that -- and finished up my call with the third guy. We agreed to meet up for a noon meeting in San Francisco the coming week and then maybe lunch or coffee afterward. Got off the phone, noticed that I felt even better after this third test and then checked my voicemail from #2.<br />
<br />
The voicemail was amazing: he was sober and temporarily living in a homeless shelter run by some Christian missionary sect. Not all that happy about their rules and routines, but it was a safe place to live until he could get into a nearby VA recovery program. We had a nice talk and agreed that I'd try to stop by to see him before he moved on to the VA recovery program...it was actually in a town on my way to/from work.<br />
<br />
I made one more call to a 4th guy before getting to work. It was a short and sweet checkin call with a former sponsee who'd moved to the East coast over a year prior: he'd had a relapse after his move East, had almost died just a few months ago: but was now several months sober and actively rebuilding his life and working a reinvigorated recovery program.<br />
<br />
The wonderful ending of this day came when I was leaving a Friday night meeting that same day: I'd had a call during the meeting that went to voicemail. It was from my missing sponsee who for whatever reason: had heard something in my voicemail earlier that morning that helped him call me back, just to let me know that he appreciated all my calls and attempts to reach out to him. But that he was simply unable to stop drinking. He asked me not to give up on him and that he was going to try again to stop -- that hopefully he'd see me soon. I called him right back: and surprisingly, he answered the phone. We had a short but encouraging conversation and I assured him that I'd never give up on him and that I hoped he'd redirect his energies/efforts away from "stopping" toward "getting/staying sober for just one day". He said that he'd try: but I knew the truth of that was not yet sinking in or making sense to him. <br />
<br />
My day ended with a sense of wonder and awe. Who'd a thunk that a couple of phone calls could transform my world in such powerful ways! And now, I have the sense again that my toolbox is overflowing again. It was never really empty. It was just full of tools that weren't the right fit for what was ailing me that day. Guess that the tools show up when the right nut appears.<br />
<br />
Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-21429456337638479262010-11-26T13:52:00.000-08:002010-11-26T13:52:18.367-08:00Grandpa L!Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-29143617187323657372010-11-26T03:06:00.000-08:002011-01-17T19:06:12.554-08:00Taking Advantage of Richo's "Fear Affirmations"I'm sitting here at the hospital while my eldest daughter is having her first child in a nearby room. My wife and son-in-law are there with her. I'm sitting here alone in the waiting room, dealing with various fears as I wait for my first grandchild to be born.<br />
<br />
As I drove here, just as Thanksgiving Day was coming to a close, I took advantage of the 1/2 hour drive to to the hospital to recite a series of fear affirmations that I found at the end of David Richo's wonderful book, <em>When Love Meets Fear</em>. I'd memorized all 156 of these affirmations several weeks ago because I knew as soon as I read through them the first time that they were going to become another tool of mine to deal with life's ups and downs, and in particular, fear. Reciting them aloud when I was in the car by myself helped put all sorts of fears in a place where they didn't seem to overwhelm me or take me out of the moment that I'm in right now.<br />
<br />
When I got to the hospital, I decided that rather than watch TV or read, I would use my laptop to type out these 156 affirmations related to fear. Again, I found that going through these affirmations again helped me stay centered and calm. Certain affirmations seemed to strike me as right on target this morning.<br />
<br />
While this might violate some copyright of David Richo's I'll beg forgiveness from him should that be necessary: Here are my recollections of Richo's fear affirmations (I've bracketed [] any modifications or additions to his words -- I oftentimes modify the words of something I've memorized just to make it a little more "mine" or more personal):<br />
<br />
1. I trust my true fears to give me signals of danger.<br />
<br />
2. I admit that I also have false fears and worries.<br />
<br />
3. I feel compassion toward myself for all the years I’ve been afraid.<br />
<br />
4. I forgive those who hypnotized me into unreal fears.<br />
<br />
5. I suggest now to myself, over and over, that I am freeing myself from fear.<br />
<br />
6. I have fearlessness to match my fear.<br />
<br />
7. I trust my powers and resourcefulness as a man.<br />
<br />
8. I trust my abundant creativity.<br />
<br />
9. I trust the strength that opens and blooms in me when I face a threat.<br />
<br />
10. I believe in myself as a man who handles what comes his way…today.<br />
<br />
11. I know how to rise to a challenge.<br />
<br />
12. I am more and more aware of how I hold fear in my body.<br />
<br />
13. I stop storing fear in my body.<br />
<br />
14. Now I relax those holding places.<br />
<br />
15. I open my body to joy and serenity.<br />
<br />
16. I release my body from the clench of fear.<br />
<br />
17. I relax those parts of me that hold on to fear the most.<br />
<br />
18. I let go of the stresses and tensions that come from fear.<br />
<br />
19. I let go of fear based thoughts.<br />
<br />
20. I let go of basing my decisions on fear.<br />
<br />
21. I stop listening to those who want to [export] their fears into me.<br />
<br />
22. I let go of finding something to fear in everything.<br />
<br />
23. I let go of fear and fearing and believing that everything is fearsome.<br />
<br />
24. I let go of the primitive ways I have of catastrophizing: e.g., the fear belief: it will always be this way!<br />
<br />
25. I am more and more aware of my instant reflex fear reactions.<br />
<br />
26. I accept that I have habituated myself to a certain level of adrenaline.<br />
<br />
27. I admit that I oftentimes choose the adrenaline rush that comes with the dramas of fear and desire.<br />
<br />
28. I forgo this stressful excitement and choose sane and serene liveliness.<br />
<br />
29. I let go of the obsessive thoughts about how the worst may happen.<br />
<br />
30. I trust myself always to have an alternative.<br />
<br />
31. I see the humor in my fears.<br />
<br />
32. I see the humor in my exaggerated responses to unreal dangers.<br />
<br />
33. I find a humorous dimension in every fear.<br />
<br />
34. I find a humorous response to every fear.<br />
<br />
35. I play with the pain of fear. <br />
<br />
36. I smile at my scared ego with tough love.<br />
<br />
37. I am convinced of my abilities to handle situations and people that scare me.<br />
<br />
38. I am more and more aware of how what happens or has happened is being faced, integrated or released.<br />
<br />
39. I have self-healing power AND I seek and find support from outside sources.<br />
<br />
40. I have an enormous capacity for rebuilding, restoring and transcending.<br />
<br />
41. I am more and more sure of my abilities.<br />
<br />
42. I am less and less scared by what happens, by what has happened, by what will happen.<br />
<br />
43. I trust myself.<br />
<br />
44. I trust the uncanny timing that I keep noticing in my life.<br />
<br />
45. I love how I awake, or change, or resolve, or complete at just the right moment.<br />
<br />
46. Nothing forces me; nothing stops me.<br />
<br />
47. I let go of any fear of nature.<br />
<br />
48. I let go of my fear of natural disasters.<br />
<br />
49. I let go of my fears of sickness, accident, old age and death.<br />
<br />
50. I cease being afraid of knowing, having or showing my feelings.<br />
<br />
51. I let go of the fear of failure and of success.<br />
<br />
52. I let go of the fears behind my guilt and shame.<br />
<br />
53. I let go of the fear of aloneness or of having time on my hands.<br />
<br />
54. I let go of the fear of abandonment.<br />
<br />
55. I let go of the fear of engulfment.<br />
<br />
56. I let go of the fear of closeness.<br />
<br />
57. I let go of the fear of commitment.<br />
<br />
58. I let go of the fear of being betrayed.<br />
<br />
59. I let go of the fear of being cheated or robbed.<br />
<br />
60. I let go of the fear of giving, receiving; beginnings, endings; comings, goings; scarcity, abundance; saying no, saying yes.<br />
<br />
61. I let go of the fear of any person.<br />
<br />
62. I let go of the fear of loving.<br />
<br />
63. I let go of the fear of being loved.<br />
<br />
64. I let go of the fear of losing: losing money, losing face, losing freedom, losing friends, losing family members, losing respect, losing status, losing my job, losing out!<br />
<br />
65. I let go of the fear of having to grieve.<br />
<br />
66. I keep letting go; I keep going on.<br />
<br />
67. I let go of my paranoia.<br />
<br />
68. I give up my phobic rituals.<br />
<br />
69. I let go of my performance fears.<br />
<br />
70. I let go of my sexual fears.<br />
<br />
71. I let go of my fears about my adequacy as a parent or child; worker or manager; partner, [lover] or friend; [sponsor or sponsee].<br />
<br />
72. I let go of the need for control.<br />
<br />
73. I acknowledge control as a mask for my fear.<br />
<br />
74. I let go of the need to be right, to be first, to be perfect.<br />
<br />
75. I let go of the belief that I am entitled to be taken care of.<br />
<br />
76. I let go of the fears about the 5 conditions of existence:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>a. I accept that I may sometimes lose.<br />
<br />
b. I accept that things change and end.<br />
<br />
c. I accept that pain is part of human growth.<br />
<br />
d. I accept that things are not always fair.<br />
<br />
e. I accept that people will lie to me, betray me, or not be loyal to me.<br />
<br />
</blockquote>77. I am flexible enough to accept life as it is, forgiving enough to accept life as it has been, [open enough to welcome life as it happens].<br />
<br />
78. I drop the need for or the belief in a personal exemption from the conditions of my existence.<br />
<br />
79. I acknowledge my present predicament as a path.<br />
<br />
80. I trust a design in spite of the display.<br />
<br />
81. I let go of more than fate can take.<br />
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82. I appreciate how everything works out for me.<br />
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83. I appreciate the graces that everywhere surround and enrich my life.<br />
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84. I find an alternative always exists behind the apparent dead end of fear.<br />
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85. I open myself to love, to people, to events.<br />
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86. I accept the love that awaits me everywhere.<br />
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87. I feel deeply loved by people near and far, living and dead.<br />
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88. I feel loved and watched over by my higher power.<br />
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89. I believe I have an important destiny, that I am living in accord with it, that I will survive to fulfill it.<br />
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90. I let myself feel the full measure of the joy I was meant to feel: the joy of living without fear.<br />
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91. I let fear go, I let joy in.<br />
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92. I let fear go, I let love in.<br />
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93. I let fears go and I expand my sensibilities.<br />
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94. I am more and more aware of others fears, more and more sensitive to them, more and more compassionate toward them.<br />
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95. I am more and more acceptant of all kinds of people<br />
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96. I enlarge my circle of love to include every living being and I show them love.<br />
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97. I am more and more courageous in my program of dealing with fear:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>a. I let go of the need for control<br />
<br />
b. I let the chips fall where they may<br />
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c. I admit my fears<br />
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d. I feel my fears by letting them flow through me<br />
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e. I act as if I were free from fear<br />
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f. I see the humor in my fears<br />
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g. I expand my circle of love to include myself and everyone</blockquote>98. I have pluck and wit!<br />
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99. I let go of my defenses.<br />
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100. I defend myself.<br />
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101. I am non-violent.<br />
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102. I am intrepid under fire.<br />
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103. I am a hero: I feel pain in my life and am transformed by it.<br />
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104. I am undaunted by situations and people that threaten me.<br />
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105. I let people’s attempts to menace me fall flat.<br />
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106. I give up running from a threat.<br />
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107. I give up shrinking from a fight.<br />
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108. I show grace under pressure.<br />
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109. I stop running; I stop hiding.<br />
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110. More and more of my fears are becoming healthy excitement.<br />
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111. I meet danger face to face.<br />
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112. I stand up for a fight.<br />
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113. I take the bull by the horns.<br />
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114. I walk the gauntlet.<br />
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115. I put my head in the lion’s mouth.<br />
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116. I stick to my guns and hold my fire.<br />
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117. An automatic courage arises in me when I face a threat.<br />
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118. I dare to show myself as I am: afraid <u>and</u> courageous.<br />
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119. I hereby release the courage that has lain hidden within me.<br />
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120. I am thankful for the gift of fortitude.<br />
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121. I let go of hesitation and self-doubt.<br />
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122. I am hardy in the face of fear.<br />
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123. I have grit, stamina and toughness.<br />
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124. I take risks and always act with responsibility and grace.<br />
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125. I let go of the need to be different.<br />
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126. I let go of the fear of others expectations.<br />
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127. I cease being intimidated by others anger.<br />
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128. I let go of the fear of what might happen if others do not like me.<br />
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129. I let go of the fear of false accusation.<br />
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130. I let go of the fear of doing it his, her or their way.<br />
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131. I acknowledge that behind my excessive sense of obligation is the fear of my own freedom.<br />
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132. I let go of the horror about disapproval, ridicule or rejection.<br />
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133. I dare to stop auditioning for people’s approval.<br />
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134. I dare to give up my act.<br />
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135. I give up all my poses, pretences and posturings.<br />
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136. I dare to be myself.<br />
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137. I acknowledge that behind my fear of self-disclosure is a fear of freedom.<br />
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138. I dare to show my hand, to show my inclinations, to show my enthusiasms.<br />
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139. I let my every word, feeling and deed reflect me, as I truly am.<br />
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140. I love being found out: that is, caught in the act of being my authentic self.<br />
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141. I explore the farthest reaches of my identity.<br />
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142. I live my life according to my deepest needs and wishes.<br />
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143. I let go of the need to correct people’s impressions of me.<br />
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144. I stop being afraid of my own power.<br />
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145. I am irrepressible.<br />
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146. I draw upon the ever renewing sources of lively energy within me.<br />
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147. I am great hearted and bold spirited.<br />
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148. I dare to give of myself unconditionally, and…<br />
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149. I dare to be unconditionally committed to maintaining my own boundaries.<br />
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150. I open myself to the grace to know the difference.<br />
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151. I fling open the gates of my soul.<br />
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152. I set free joy, till now imprisoned by fear.<br />
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153. I set free love, till now imprisoned by fear.<br />
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154. I honor and evoke my animal powers, my human powers, my divine powers.<br />
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155. I let true love cast out all fear.<br />
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156. I face fear like the Buddha; I am the Buddha in the face of fear.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-24934696185013404822010-11-01T20:33:00.000-07:002010-11-01T20:33:03.441-07:00Nine Years...With the exception of regular blogging, I've been pretty consistent in continuing to do what has helped me not only stay sober for over nine years now (my sobriety birthday is October 20, 2001) but also fashion a way of living that really is beyond my wildest imagination: lots of meetings, working with others, reading and meditation (memorizing/reciting mostly...). <br />
<br />
The main reason behind my falling away from the regular blogging is that some life issues have arisen in the last month or two and they have been occupying a significant amount of my time and that time had to come from somewhere: blogging was it. The biggest thing that I've been dealing with is my mother's development of a progressive form of dementia over the last year or so. It's gotten to the point where someone had to step up and help her deal with the various aspects of this disease and to get help with getting it diagnosed and developing a plan of action. In terms of my recovery, I should note that before I got sober, I had not talked to my mother for almost 10 years! But in the process of working through the steps, I was able to eventually reach out to her and rebuild a relationship with her that has become quite strong over the last five or six years. I've been there for her as she's experienced some strokes, a heart attack and five way heart bypass surgery and now with this gradual loss of memory at 81 years old.<br />
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What surprises me is that I've really come to enjoy my times with my mother. That has never been true in our relationship: ever. She trusts me, enjoys spending time with me and always thanks me for all my help and assistance. What a blessing made possible by my recovery work!<br />
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As I've been going through all this with my mom, I've been consistent with my meetings, kept my commitments to my sponsees, checked in with my sponsors to keep them in the loop, and made time each day for maintaining my spiritual practices. I've even taken up some new things, like calling people I haven't seen in awhile and just checking in or calling people who I know are struggling with the "not drinking part of the program" and just offering to help in any way I can --- or just to talk if they feel like doing that. I've never been much of a phone person: but I decided to try something different and it's been paying off huge dividends.<br />
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Tonight I'm able to blog because my wife and youngest daughter are at the hospital waiting for my wife's sister to have her first baby. I'll head over sometime later this evening, but for now, I have time to just check in with this blog. Within the next month or so, I'll be joining my wife and eldest daughter and her husband for another trip to the hospital: that time to be there for the birth of our first grandchild. I don't like projecting out that far, but I can't help it. And I know I need to stay grounded in today: I can look toward the future and back at the past, but I have to be careful not to stare. It's staring at the past/future that throws me off kilter.<br />
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Anyway, I thought I would check in tonight with a quick blog before I head to the hospital. <br />
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Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6203615921932322276.post-65197057678125270052010-09-07T15:48:00.000-07:002010-09-07T15:48:40.217-07:00Prerequisites to Critical MomentsAs I've mentioned several times recently, I've been chewing on something I read recently and I just can't let it go: The one obstacle to grace is control. Ever since I read that line in David Richo's book, When Love Meets Fear, I've seemed to have this truth front and center in my consciousness most of the days since I first read it. As I've been doing this "fear work" that I also mentioned in my last blog entry, the connection between the felt need to control things in my life and fearfulness is so close as to make them indistinguishable.<br />
<br />
This morning as I was thinking about three of my sponsees who are all seemingly stuck in a very early recovery, I had a series of thoughts that sort of came pouring out: <br />
<ul><li>the prerequisite of grace is letting go of control</li>
<li>the prerequisite of letting go of control is willingness</li>
<li>the prerequisite of willingness is not wanting to do something</li>
<li>the prerequisite to doing something that you don't want to do is hopelessness or despair.</li>
</ul>It's very hard to watch people holding on to control as though their life depended on their holding on to what they are holding on to. It's especially hard when you know that the solution is not in holding on, but in letting go.<br />
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I just left a men's meeting at Old St. Mary's Church in downtown San Francisco. The man who led the meeting read something from page 164 in the Big Book, including the most humble of all lines in our Big Book: "Our book is meant to be suggestive only. We realize we know only a little." I am truly aware of my own ignorance when it comes to what will work for another person. I barely know what works for me and oftentimes I only learn that after thousands of failures and deadends and lots of pain.<br />
<br />
So what do I know when I suggest to another suffering alcoholic that they consider trying what worked for me? Nothin. If anyone had suggested that I "let go" a moment before I did on the morning of October 20, 2001, I would have told them to go to hell and I would have stomped off without a clue as to what else I might try. I let go only when there was no energy left to hold on and no other options.<br />
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I suppose that will happen with these guys also. Or at least, I hope so. There's always the other alternatives of jails, institutions and death. Once again, I have to let the disease do the hard work of sponsoring the guys dumb enough to ask me to sponsor them.<br />
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Take care!<br />
<br />
Mike L.Mike L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03218230734014569429noreply@blogger.com2