I am really enjoying this blog lately.  I have been putting words on here in some sort of order and it feels good to get them off of my mind.  I got the idea to start writing here from a woman named Natalie H, she is a member of my fellowship and has written a blog for a long time.  She also eventually had her blog turned into a book.  I have no illusion that I would ever get into a book.  I did not start this for that purpose.  It’s merely for me to get some of the shit in my head out.  To put them in an order that makes sense to me.

I ran into Nat at a meeting on the weekend and I mentioned to her that I was inspired by her to write a blog.  She was very gracious about it.  (She is a SUPER nice woman, very friendly and smart, and I have always enjoyed chatting with her)  She told me that if I was writing I should submit a story to her publisher so that they could review it as they are working on a book of stories from people in the area.  The stories are to be about mental health, addiction and changes in perspective.  She said that if I submit something it will for sure get read by her and her editor and the publisher.  HOLY FUCK!

I was super stoked about the idea at first.  Now as I am actually trying to get started on it the task seems daunting.  I realize that the likelihood that mine would get picked to be part of this project is slim at best.  But it’s someone reading something I put down on paper.  That’s never easy.  I wasn’t good at in school, I’m not good at it now.  But who knows.  I am committed to giving it my best shot.  We’ll just have to see what God has in store for me in relation to this.

via Daily Prompt: Thwart

I’m kind of unhappy in my current living situation.  I find myself spending a lot of time thinking about the what ifs of life.  What if I was in my own place?  What would that be like?  Would I be lonely?  Would I go crazy?  What if I can’t afford it?  What if I can’t handle these changes to my life?  I’ve been in the same situation for so long that I feel like I’ve grown roots.  I used to wish that I felt a connection to a place as a kid.  We moved so often, being a military family, that I never felt connected to any where.  I have become attached to my residence and my living situation, as unhealthy as it is.  Spending too much time thinking like this is dangerous for me.  It drags me into that mental space where my anxiety is lurking waiting to attack.  I have to try to thwart the thinking process back into the present moment.  There will lots of time to deal with future.  I suppose a smart person would talk to someone about this stuff.  I have been hiding these thoughts for so long that when they pop up it’s pretty scary.  I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how much more I can take.

via Daily Prompt: Haul

I witnessed something that was incredibly beautiful in it’s sadness last night.  I was at my home group and my sponsor was sharing that his mother is very close to departing from his life.  She has colon cancer and is 91 years old, she has been living with dementia for a number of years as well.  Now I know from speaking with Keith that this has been weighing pretty heavy on him.  Last night he began sharing about all of this and it was one of those moments that you could tell he had some shit to get off of his chest.  Some groups that I have been to will cut you off after 2 or 3 minutes.  Because they feel like everyone should have a chance to speak.  But in this case it was so apparent that he needed to get this out of his system so everyone just let him go.  He spoke for almost a half hour about it. I believe that this is so incredibly important in recovery because leaving something unsaid to weigh heavy on our hearts and minds is not good.

It so happens that our friend Martin was in the group last night.  He is not a regular to our group, but he is a regular to the rooms and he is someone that I speak to a lot.  Martin has been through something very similar to Keith.  He shared his story with us and then spoke to Keith afterwards.  The universe put Martin in that room so that Keith would have a sympathetic ear to hear his voice.  Martin shared that he lost his mother in a similar manner.  The guilt that he felt over the situation eroded away his emotional sobriety and that lead to him drinking again to medicate his pain.  This is the beautiful thing about the rooms, there is always someone that can relate to your story or that has been through similar if not the exact same things.  This is where getting the stuff out helps.  It can help the person sharing and it might help someone sitting in the room listening.

Hauling the shit around with me all day is not a good thing for my sobriety and for emotional state.  I feel like I have heard this lesson a number of times and yet I still don’t think it has sunk in.  I’m the worst for letting stuff fester in head driving me down into depression and anxiety ridden sleepless nights.  On those rare occasions where I do get stuff out I can see it working for me.

via Daily Prompt: Churn
churn – to move violently……

When I saw this word today my first reaction was that it perfectly describes how my “guts” feel when I am in the midst of an anxiety episode.  I’ve never really considered a word to describe how my body feels during these times.  This word, in my mind, does a great job of it.  When dealing with this it’s impossible to eat, to focus or to sleep.  It’s like a dark cloud has descended on me and all I can think about is all the negative possibilities.  I can say to myself, “Focus on the positive, live in the moment”…..but my body tells me that it’s time to run.  When people talk about the human instinct of fight or flight, I’m all flight.  I might as well be a bird.

I hate these times, I’ve dealt with them since I was a child.  After a while I stopped dealing with them and tried to numb them.  To stop feeling them altogether.  And it worked for a while.  I could have a drink or two and my world would mellow out.  I think I’ve mentioned this before but it’s like the volume in my head got turned down from a Slayer concert to a Rafi concert.  I remember as a kid I used to have these stuffed animals that were my safety blanket. It started with a lion and I used to squeeze him when I couldn’t stop the churning and I would be unable to sleep.  Sadly I eventually squeezed all the stuffing out of him.  Then I moved on to a stuffed Poppa Smurf, he met the same fate over time.

As I approached double digits in age I turned to books as a method to distract myself during these times.  Many a night was spent reading until day break.  I became pretty good at functioning on little sleep. Although it did make me pretty moody and I learned later that lack of sleep is a contributor to my anxiety.

I now am trying to focus on the “moment” and live on the terms presented to me.  I am not perfect and I still have the odd night that I wake up with a start after a bad dream or a troubling thought about my future.  But happily they aren’t as bad as they used to be.

via Daily Prompt: Churn