Christmas Eve, and the snow was falling thick and fast. I made my way to my
parents' house, just like every year that I can remember since leaving home.

I got in the door, stamped my boots, smelled the warmth and the Christmas
fragrances. Heard my mother calling "Hello, Merry Christmas!" and headed into
the family room where my father sat in his chair, looking at the Packers' game
and not seeing it or much else.

I walked to my father's chair, leaned over him, kissed him on the cheek and
said, "Merry Christmas, Daddy." He looked up at me with the look of someone lost
and confused, dazed that someone was talking to him. I said, "Daddy, it's Susan,
do you know who I am?" He repeated, "Susan." and then shook his head, his once
bright blue eyes staring at me blankly, as though he was looking straight
through me.

My mother said to me, "He's very quiet, doesn't seem to know much these days,
and he sleeps most of the time." I was very quietly fighting back tears that
wanted to come screaming, roaring out of a place so deep that I couldn't quite
define it. It was, after all Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve without my father,
just a shadow or shell of this strong, in control, loud-voiced policeman who was
always in charge. This man who taught me everything from how to swim when I was
scared of water, to how to ride a bike, to having a strong work ethic, to taking
responsibility for my own "stuff." This man, whose giant, strong hands once
covered my own and led me down the beach and threw me in the air, whose strong
hands once tucked in my blankets and straightened my high school cap and gown,
was now holding my hand, as though a child, as I led him to the table to eat his
holiday dinner with a special spoon designed for people with Alzheimer's,
because he doesn't know how to use his silverware anymore.

My heart is breaking as I write this. No, everything with my father wasn't
always happiness and roses and love and hugs. Much of it was yelling and
fighting and seeing him get drunk and loud and nasty. But I have never stopped
loving the man who patiently stood by the side of the pool that he built in the
backyard, telling me to jump in, it was OK, he would catch me. I never stopped
trusting him, because when push came to shove, he always did catch me, no matter
what else was going on. He's gone, that man who I've always loved with all my
heart. And my mother and I are left to grieve a death that hasn't yet happened.

Today, I have to put away my sorrow, for my mother's sake, and go and take care
of what I can take care of. To catch him as he always caught me, even though he
no longer knows who I am. I still love him, but it's a painful sort of love.
It's the kind of love that makes one weep, and not for joy. I'll come home and
dream dreams of my Daddy, and feel his strong hands catch me, as I jump off the
side of the pool, and into whatever else this life may send my way.

S. Gibbons
12/25/04

Ahh, what to drink?  What to drink?  I'll admit, those damned little
Bailey's bottles have been lurking in my shadows, but it was more to
do with my stress level than my true wishes.  I want peace and comfort
this holiday.  And being sober over a year, I am finding just that
more and more.  When my emotions get out of control or depression
seeps in, the booze thoughts emerge from the shadows.  So I work
diligently to monitor and keep the moods in hand and approach them
even-handed. Slowing down life, even if it means compromising my
perfectionism, is essential to balancing the striving adult and the
wishing child.  Today, before all the wrapping and cooking and
travelling and chatting and opening and nog and eating and kissing and
waving and travelling and unloading and finally, exhausted sleeping...
I'm taking a minute for the kid inside saying "I don wanna," by
heading to the ice-rink for a half-hour spin round the rink.  Sure I
have lots of things to do, but I'd rather do them with a happy kid
inside rather than a grumpy griping one.  Grumpy can lead to rum in
the nog, and my liver's not up for it.
Happy Holidays...for real this year!
drSue
[December 24, 2004 5:44 a.m.]

I haven't felt much like writing lately.  I don't hardly write at all,
in fact.  Not in my journals, not my typical essays, not even much e-
mail.  Working has made me want to couch-it every free moment.  My
house is still 1/3 unpacked.  Livable, but not in order yet.  Work.
Necessary for money, but at what cost.  A part of myself is in a box
along with all my other stuff.  Well, it'll be there after my bills
are in order, waiting.  Words never fail me, and they'll be there
always, no worry of them running out. Just kind of sad.  Maybe I'll be
able to integrate my writing into my worklife too, just as I need to
do with play.  Just as I learned to integrate living into my sobriety.
  Dismal at first, but eventually a rhythm all its own emerged.  A
normalcy that I didn't think was possible.  I'll sit back and let that
part of fate take care of itself.  Change is the one dependable thing.
  Nothing is as it is for long, the good nor the bad.  That's good I
guess.
drSue
Dec 20, 2004 12:09 a.m.

Some folks get exercised at the configurations of a Higher Power that others
come up with.  In my mind, the sophistication of the configuration
represents where someone is at that moment.  It would be easy for me to say
that any particular configuration is really flawed or "nonsense".
But I need to remind myself where I was at the beginning of this journey.
At the beginning of my journey my thinking was seriously flawed.  The only
useful thought I had was "You can't drink".

The Baltimore prologue in use in AA at the time (1965) said "A belief in a
Higher Power is indispensable to a satisfactory adjustment to life's
problems".  After a month or so of not drinking, it dawned on me that that
sentence, read at the beginning of every meeting, said I was going to fail
at life (or at least never adjust to it satisfactorily -- whatever that
means).

So when I did hear someone say (and I did hear this) "My Higher Power became
a radiator cap", I knew that I could do better than that.  At the same time,
I had enough respect to know that I shouldn't say that what that person
believed was dumb.  So the group became my Higher Power -- for a while --
and I was relieved by that for the time being until I could get more days
sober, reconnect more of those neural pathways, and move on to a conceptual
framework that made more sense (to me).  I don't think that what I was
clinging to at the time was dumb or nonsense.  It was all I was capable of
at the time.

So when I hear someone say that their Higher Power is a radiator cap or the
Group, I'd be more inclined to say to them, "Hey, if it works for you right
now that is terrific but understand that most of us evolve and are still
evolving.  I can almost guarantee you if you work at this thing you will
develop a new framework or two or three along the way that will gradually
make more sense and be a greater comfort for you".  As my friend Shirley
says, "This is a process".  And I am becoming.  And I kind of like what I'm
becoming.

Thanks,
Don P

I've been too busy as of late.  Learning to merge living with  work
and the few family obligations I allow into my life. I'm barely
keeping my mouth above the water line, but I'm doing well with regard
to pushing back the old echo of wishing to drink during these holiday
times.  Every now and then, I hear myself rationalizing in a
subconscious voice that it'd be ok to have a little six of those
Bailey's bottles at the next family gathering. And if I'm not
diligent, those words take on shape and form.  But I dream then about
the people who matter most to me and their gravity pulls me back to my
clearer mind.  Perceiving myself from the persepective of others who
see the me I respect is the tow-rope that leads me on the path I need
to stay on, the one that makes me happy, the journey where I am
myself.
drSue
Friday Dec 17, 2004 4:28 a.m.

I really like what you are saying.  But for some people they have to learn to be
assertive. It's hard to stop being a door mat.-Julie

I cannot accept the concept of being powerless.

In most things I recognize a lack of total control,
but in few instances is one truly powerless.  To
espouse powerlessness is to advocate the surrender of
responsibility: to believe in being powerless can
easily lead to lethargy, complacency, and defeatism.

For the purposes of this short discussion, influence
is defined as the act or power of producing an effect.


While I cannot usually control the actions of others,
it is defeatism to assume that I have no influence
over people.  I know that I can influence response in
those around me.  I know I have influence because I
have observed the consequences of my influence.  Based
on such experience, a reasonable person should be able
to recognize patterns and have ever more expanding
influence.  For example, I know that certain persons
currently in my life can be brought to anger simply by
making sexually explicit comments.  Knowing that these
persons considers themselves to be professional,
Christian people, I can surmise that persons of like
beliefs will have similar reactions to the same
stimuli.  This isn’t always true, but often enough to
enable me to anticipate reactions in similar
situations in the future.  If it were to serve my
purpose to anger or alienate someone, I can consider
employing this experience.

I cannot control my drinking of alcohol once started.
But if I were truly powerless, I would not be able to
obtain or maintain sobriety.  I cannot control the
fact that I still have urges to drink, but I do
control the decision to drink.

I have found a very influential partner in sobriety
(vice sponsor) with whom I share problems encountered
in remaining sober.  This individual uses experience
and common sense to justify opinions and
recommendations on emotion, behavior and actions.
However, I must make the last decision to accept
advice or act upon my own convictions.  Therein lays
the falsehood in surrendering my life to someone else.
  Even in following every direction given, I cannot
ultimately surrender responsibility and, therefore, I
ultimately retain the power.

Even in metropolitan traffic, I have the means to
influence the actions of those around me.  My vehicle
is equipped with signal and brake lights which should
influence those around me.  I use these devices to
warn others that a change in conditions is either
taking place or is imminent.  I cannot control the
decision of the drivers around me to make the
necessary adjustments, but I can influence their
decision making process.  I must trust that this
influence will cause the correct adjustments in
others.  If we did not have this expectation, no
rational person would ever operate a motor vehicle in
traffic.

If a therapist honestly holds the belief that there is
no possibility for positively influencing the life of
their patients, then the therapist is living a lie and
is working for nothing but an income.

I accept that I have ultimate control over very
little, but I have power over a great deal.  With this
distinction, I am able to work with the feelings of
frustration when things are not resolved to my
expectation.  However, I have the inspiration and
motivation to seek and follow the courses of action
which hold the greatest potential for positively
influencing my life.




__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
All your favorites on one personal page – Try My Yahoo!
http://my.yahoo.com

--- In sosjournal@yahoogroups.com, "Sue Gibbons" <suejgee@a...>
wrote:
>
> Hello to everyone who has joined!
>
> Thanks for joining and please feel free to post as you would
journal.
>
> I find journaling personally cathartic, and put a great deal of my
> journaling in poetry form. Whatever form you choose is perfectly
OK
> here.
>
> Once again, welcome to this new SOS site!
>
> Sue G.
> Listowner

Anything for a welcoming from Mamma Sue! I'm glad I stumbled  across
this list. I have always wanted to start journaling but I'm too
chicken. The whole Padora's box thing. But I just had 2 years sober
on the 8th and I'm beginning realize that journaling and therapy are
my next phase in my journey and it scares the shit out of me.-Julie

It's a quiet night, thankfully.  New neighborhood, new apartment, new
office.  No sirens, no tourists.  Now just have to readjust back into
working hours on end at the computer.  Gotta krink in my shoulder
after the first 5.  I'm determined to work some play into my days.
The consulting work is going to be here long-term, so I can't keep
working working working until it's over, because I end up missing out.
  Tomorrow, I aim to take a break in the day and walk out in my new
environment, even if it's snowing, especially if it's snowing.
The peacefulness that comes from a sober world needs revelling in.
drSue
[Mon Nov 29, 2004 11:10 pm]

I'm moving this Friday to a bigger apartment.  Packing my existence
into cardboard boxes, taping them shut with the loud shrieking
straaaap that tape makes, and finding a word to scrawl on the side.
It's somewhat disheartening.  Every piece of this or scrap of that,
from the closets to the drawers to under the sink, each one has
sometimes years of memories in the moment it takes to blow off the
dust.

I thought I would be excited to move, and I am at some level, but
these past three days have brought a sadness, heavy and thick with
humidity, the time between all those thens and now.  Some of the boxes
I don't care to reopen. The toughest were the four filled with my
music.  All the CDs I'd acquired and worshipped in those drunken
years.  I remarked to my husband, intrigued by my sighs, that I could
label each of these with the drink of choice that accompanied they're
repetitive play.

Tonight included an unusual gravity drawing my thoughts to the what-if
I played some and drank some like all the times I've packed and moved
before.  I didn't, but there was a bit too much comfort in the
remembering the possibility of those several hours of escape.

drSue [November 23, 2004 1:06 a.m.]

I'm grumbling about other people grumbling.  Sort of a under the
radar murmuring and complaining situation.  I am trying to
acknowledge my irritation and let it go without judgement.  Just as
the physical body has the ability to mend itself so does my emotional
body.  Eventually I'll hear the complaints and they won't get an
emotional rise out of me.  Hopefully I'll acquire the habit of
realizing that I cannot be responsible for how someone else feels.  I
have felt as though I would have to fix everything around me.  I
would mold myself to fit iinto a situation.  I didn't like ill-
feelings since they brought a sense of fear on.  I wasn't doing my
part in the scenario.  I am staying away from dwelling in the past
yet I need to recognize how my reactions to situations are colored by
my ingrained habits.  I am trying to do things that are functional
for my well-being.  Tilting towards joy I can give myself a chance to
know how to start developing good decision making skill and lay a
strong foundation for my life in sobriety.

Hello,

Welcome to any new folks who have joined the group. As most of you
know, this group is very un-moderated, which means that anyone can
join without prior approval by the list owner. That's why you don't
automatically get welcomed or introduced, as is the custom in many
other email settings.

I would encourage everyone who feels comfortable to use this place
as an alternative to pen and paper, what is said here stays here,
and nothing will be shared unless the permission of the author is
given.

Thanks for joining. I hope that everyone will find this to be a
comfortable place to write out experiences, thoughts and feelings
whiel traveling this sometimes difficult, but always worthwhile,
journey.

Sue G.

Today, as I sit here at my desk at work, finishing my hurried lunch, I was
stopped in my tracks by a thought that filters through to me now and again.

What brought about this thought was the fact that my aunt (mom's sister) is
dying of Parkinson's, and her two children have kept a chilly distance from her
since they left home -- not because she was abusive, or because they had
horrible childhoods, quite the opposite is true. But because they just didn't
feel a need to be connected to their family of origin once they created families
of their own. One of the children, who is my age, has treated her mother as
nothing more than an inconvenience for the past several years, only coming to
see her when absolutely necessary, and then being verbally and sometimes
physically abusive when she does. It has broken my aunt's heart in a million
pieces, and now there's probably not going to be any time to put any kind of
closure on this for either one of them.

I'm very stricken by the fact that my drinking years often made me an extremely
selfish and uncaring person to many. That my mother, especially, often got the
brunt of my hungover bad moods, that she asked very little of me and got less in
return, and how my sobriety has changed all of that. Were my parents perfect,
oh, no, not by any stretch. But my mother never stopped caring about me, even
when I was at my worst. And I'm feeling very glad right now that she and I have
become such close friends in the past six years. Something that never could have
happened if I was still drinking.

I'll grieve for my aunt when she passes, but I think I'll feel much sorrier for
my cousin, because I don't think it will be easy for her to carry the unfinished
business of this relationship around with her. Apparently, she's already
starting to express remorse for her behavior when talking with my mom. I only
hope that she has a few moments with my aunt before she leaves this earth, so
that both of them can put some closure on their lives together/apart. It makes
me grateful for my recovery in a way that doesn't strike me all that often.

SJG 11/19/04

I've been working my butt off on my consulting projects.  I'm not used
to using my brain this intensely.  It's causing me difficulty in my
sleep.  Feel like my heart is racing at night and early morning.  So
I'm just trying to go with it, so if I only sleep 4 hours at a time,
so be it.  A little hard to adjust, I'm so used to sleeping 10 hours
or more.  But I worry about the deadlines, even though I've never
missed one or even come close.  They love my work but I just get
insecure every time on a new project.

My goal is to integrate my life into my work.  It doesn't have to be
all or nothing, although I do like to work for hours at a time.  But I
have to remember to take care of myself...this body's the only vehicle
I've got.  Money's cool, but not if it's at the expense of the me on
the outside.  So in this thought, I went up to the pool yesterday
morning and again today after sitting 8 hours at my desk.  Man did
that feel good... I'm going to miss the pool when I move next week.
But I intend to keep my physical health up. Just like getting sober,
it's going to be a gradual process figuring out how to live while
working intensely like this.  My quiet writer's life seems a distant
notion, but I don't mind the new structure, just so long as I can make
some life boundaries that feel comfortable.

drSue 18Nov04

Between outpatient, SOS meetings, gambling counseling and mandatory
house activities, my mind is on my recovery.  It's a situation that
is all work and no play.  I'm enjoying the process for the most part
still it's mostly an exercise in seriousness.  Which is why I feel as
though there is a longing on my part to go in the OTB (off track
betting) parlor whenever I walk by.  I have a compulsive gambling
addiction.  I feel as though if I were to go in, get a racing form I
could make money.  I would enjoy the atmosphere and it would be a way
to escape.  I stop myself by realizing that is a colossal waste of
time and money.  I was so sidetracked for years with this activity.
I have nothing to show for all the time that I spent.  I didn't
cultivate any lasting relationships I was exposed to some of the most
devious people that I could ever hope to meet.  The thrill and the
adrenaline of betting can only lead to a hopeless cycle that would
get me back to zero.  That is why I am working on being brutally
honest.  That is a way to tell on myself.  Gambling's consequences
for me are the quickest way to get back to zero.  The happiness that
I would derive from gambling is fleeting and usually remorse is the
end result.  I've been feeling peevish and curt recently.  It is
though I expect the world to follow in my footsteps.  Maybe this is
because for so many years I have subjugated myself to someone else's
will.  It was my husbands, significant others and mother's wishes
that I followed becuase I was afraid to be left alone.  Now that I am
taking the initial steps to change my ways and follow my own path I
am looking at everything from a very self centered sort of way.  This
is my control issue and it's not serving me well.  I am looking at
the world with a biased viewpoint.  What I need to do is to recognize
it when I try to fit a situation into my own world view and let that
feeling pass.  I know that rationality is my objective and if I
continue to acknowledge that fact eventually I will correct myself.
I do not have to continually beat myself up because I have slipped.
I can give myself some slack, loosen up since I do not wish to build
into my reaction structure a uptight tight assed personage.

Sunday November 14, 2004 11:20 am
I've been working so hard on my new consulting job that I've been
mentally exhausted.  Took most of yesterday off and lay on the couch
watching VH1 of all things.  I didn't want news, I didn't want plot or
drama.  Watched this show, The 40 Least Metal Moments.  Events in
heavy metal (which I can't stand) music that were very "un-metal."
Like the lead singer of what? Motley Crue did a chicken dance with
polish bamboozles, or Metallica cut their hair, or Celine Dion did a
heavy metal song that was lol ridiculous.  So I laughed a good deal
yesterday.

How often in the past had Saturday's been spent on the couch hungover
with booze burning through my viens, facing a 3-day illness-like
recovery.  And the remorse, that was the worst of it.  So how
completely different yesterday was for me...I was exhausted and taking
a break to take care of myself because I'm working so hard on a job I
like.  With all those boozing days, I had no hope that I would ever be
self-sufficient.

My ideals and dreams are slow-cookers. The books I've written are
still very much my children, something I care about intrinsically, but
the burden of depending on my husband financially was weighing on us.
I couldn't bear seeing all these people with all this stuff, nice
cars, nice homes, and nice clothes.  I know it's all material stuff,
but I was beginning to wonder where I missed the boat.
We only live here once, and somehow I missed all that frosting.  I
always said I didn't care about things and money, but damn, it sure
would make life more comfy.

So, in quitting drinking, and in nurturing the little kid in side me
to come back out and play, I realized that indeed, a few material
things, toys, if you will *are* important.  And so I began this
consulting business.  It's writing, so I'm in my element.  And I don't
have to go anywhere, work right here at my window overlooking the
city.  And I can work 18 hours straight if I want to because I like
the escape of that kind of focus.  And it's paying off.  The company
I'm working for has recognized my skills as valuable and has offered
to keep me as busy as I want to be.  I said, "Bring it on!"

So from what I can figure after 4 months, I will pretty much double
our family income in a year.  We bought a nice used car, we are moving
to a quieter part of town with a nice big loft apartment, and I'm
going to enjoy life a little more.  Like toys for a child.  Yeah,
they're not necessary like water and air, but they are important.

It's time to live not just a sober life, but a sober happy life.

drSue

November 14, 2004

Woke up from a doozy of a drinking dream. I was driving my car, going to work,
hungover after having binged the night before. In the dream, I realized that I
had quit drinking a lot of years ago, and that all of a sudden I had started
again, once or twice a week. I was panic stricken in the dream, woke up with a
start and it took me a few minutes to calm down and realize that it was just a
dream.

Six years into sobriety, and I'm still having drinking dreams. I know that they
are largely anxiety related, which tells me a lot. Tells me that my "worst
nightmare" is to go back to that horrible place, no matter how loud the siren
song may become.

Dammit, I don't like feeling vulnerable. Too much work went into all of this
recovery, too much time and energy invested to have to go backwards, and
besides, backwards means death. I don't like feeling out of control, or
depressed, or anxious. I don't like feeling like I'm on the edge. I am supposed
to be strong and capable and sound in my recovery. Yaddda yaddda yaddda...

sjg 11/14/04

I have a tendency towards timidity.  Afraid that I might offend
someone. I don't want people to be unhappy with me. Here's the odd
part.  I don't feel as though I care what people think about me.
It's their defensive reactions that cause anxiety in me.  I shy away
from that feeling like the plague.  I am allowing others to dictate
my feelings.  I can start by molding myself in my own image rather
than someone else's expections.  Yes it's rocky, I'm sure that I'll
come off as obnoxious sometimes.  It's better for me to try and let
my feelings known and then let it go.  At least I will have done my
part by being honest thus not misleading others.  Also, I'm still
sick.  I noticing how much my ability to accurately assess situations
is impacted.  I have a tendency to see the rosy side of things rather
than look for the reality of a situation.  Coping with the fear of
failure to live up to a certain standard I am looking for friendly
supportive characteristics in others. It's a heartening thought that
my striving for clarity will help me make sound decisions.  I might
think that I know where the rainbow is but sometimes it's around a
different corner.  I can only strive to do what I think is right and
adapt to what happens.
continuing to sashay down the sweet path of sobriety  susan

Today, I am hanging on to my sobriety by my fingernails. This week has been a
nightmare, and next week is looking worse. If it weren't for the fact that I
have someone who loves me dearly and a mother who I love and who needs me, I'd
probably chuck it all, say fuck it, and be swigging from a wine bottle.

How'd I get myself into this mess? How'd I get to be this old and still be
working in a place where people behave like teenagers, or worse? How'd I get to
a place where my teeth are on edge a great deal of the time, my shoulders reside
around my earlobes, and I have headaches that make me want to sleep for the rest
of the millenium.

I have to stay strong for myself. As much as I want that frigging bottle of wine
-- and I know all I have to do is get in the car and drive to the liquor store
-- I can't. It's hard today, hard to say no to the voice in my head that's
telling me one night, just one night, just one night, then you can go back to
being sober. So what? One night will not kill me. But I know that one night will
lead to another and another and another and soon I'll be residing below ground.
Today I feel as though I don't care. Tonight I will distract myself somehow.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

S. Gibbons
November 12, 2004

Six weeks from today I will be forty-seven years old. Forty-seven. I can
remember when twenty-five seemed ancient, when I didn't think I'd make it to
thirty, when I thought that forty would be a real accomplishment, and as it
turns out, it was.

I started drinking the summer that I was thirteen. I had my first drunk with a
bunch of people I barely knew, teenagers much older than I. We sat at a campsite
in the woods and drank beer and disgusting Boone's Farm wine, and I learned, too
early, how to French kiss. Too early because I wasn't in control of myself and
didn't have a clue what I was doing. I had only stopped playing with my beloved
Barbies the year before. Our family doctor had just told my mother that I was
"thirteen going on twenty-five." If any of those kids that I was with had known
how old I really was, they probably would have soiled themselves.

Pity. I liked being drunk immediately. I didn't throw up, didn't get a headache
the next day -- perhaps if I had, I never would have gone any farther. Perhaps
if I had been caught by my parents and punished, I would have thought twice. But
I was able to get away with it again and again and again. And there began a saga
that lasted for the next twenty-seven years.

I missed a lot -- some have told me that I wasted a lot -- having kids, which I
had wanted to do, but thankfully had enough brains not to do, making love for
the first time with someone that I truly cared about -- instead I had a horrible
experience with some frat boy after a wild night of partying. I gave up friends,
and chances at jobs, and going to nursing school because alcohol was more
important to me. For so many years I settled, because I didn't want to give up
my sacred booze. Amazing that during the midst of this I found a man who still
loves and cares about me, and has been with me through the worst times of my
life. But that was nothing more than sheer luck.

I reflect, often, on what could have been. Oh, yes, it's water under the bridge
and all that, but I can't help but wonder what I would have been had I not
slugged down that first warm beer sitting under that tree with those older kids.
Was it their fault? No, not at all. Even at thirteen, I knew that I shouldn't
have been doing what I was doing. My instantaneous addiction to alcohol often
frightened me in my later teenage years. When I got older, I became very
frightened of what my drinking was doing to me, but even that fear didn't make
me stop. It wasn't until my drinking almost killed me that I finally realized
that I was commiting slow, passive suicide. And had been for a long, long time.

So, in six weeks I'll be forty-seven years old. Forty-seven and six years sober.
Sometimes I feel like a six year old, seeing things in clear, fine detail for
the first time. I've regained my self-esteem and my passion for living. Does it
make up for what I've lost or given away? I don't know. Does it matter? I'm not
sure. Am I glad that I'm still here? Yes.

Yesterday, on my way to work, I saw something that amazed me and sort of jarred
me into this train of thought. I was driving toward Niagara Falls. On that road
I can see the column of mist rising from the cataract. The sun was behind the
mist, and the whole mist cloud was a huge, vertical rainbow. It was so
awe-inspiring that people were slowing down on the expressway to gaze at it. My
first thought was, "I'm lucky that I'm still here to see this." No matter what
the future holds, or what the past contains, I'm here today. Today. What a sweet
word.

S.J. Gibbons
November 9, 2004

Welcome!

Sue

>
> From: "drSue" <c70dr@...>
> Date: 2004/11/03 Wed AM 01:11:32 EST
> To: sosjournal@yahoogroups.com
> Subject: [sosjournal] Newbie
>
>
>
> Hi,
> Was glad to hear about SOSJournal.  I like to write most every evening
> or whenever.  It makes me feel connected to the good life and like a
> magnet keeps me leaning in that direction. I see from the group
> description that it's not so much about responding to others or
> providing support than it is about writing out thoughts and feelings.
> That's a good thing, I think.  No pressure. Not that I don't like
> helping others and boosting their own leanings toward sobriety, but
> sometimes the little one inside me needs the space front and center
> without feeling guilty or neglectful of others.
>
> I had to turn off the t.v. tonight (Nov 2).  Refocus on my life.
>
> I'd like to spend some time writing about getting my physical health
> back to where I want it to be now that I'm not drinking.  I've been
> sober for a year, with only a single blip on the radar during that
> time.  I feel solid now.  It's funny, getting and remaining sober has
> the unintended (or intended) effect of solidifying my knowledge of who
> I am.  My thoughts of drinking have been altered I think permanently.
> I think of it much like I'd think of a life of crime or murder or
> deceitfulness... it's just not something I'd do.  It's not in my
> realm.  And I don't want it there.  I used to grieve the booze and the
> escape. But that mourning is over.  Now I have sober mornings!
>
> Just like I was able to get past the booze, I know I have it in me to
> get my athletic body back.  I had done real well on a brief attempt of
> an sos health group.  I was sorry to see it disband for political
> reasons, but I'd like to reinvent that momentum for myself,
> physically, here.  Exercise, diet, weight loss.  It's something within
> my reach now, because I've got a handle on my moods and life to some
> extent.  So I'd like to get myself back into a good habit of healthy
> living.  The booze is gone, that was step one.  The mood swings that
> were ruining my life are gone, that was step two.  Now it's time to
> take that third step and get my butt running and caring about what I
> eat.  It's just the natural next phase in taking care of myself.
>
> It's a great list idea!  Kind of like a sigh of relief.  Like leaving
> the city for awhile and taking a long quiet stroll down a country
> road.
>
> drSue
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Yahoo! Groups Links
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

I'm like everyone else in recovery, my process and path is unique.
Whatever makes sense to me might not make sense to someone else.  My
main objective is to strive to remove hindrances to having a full and
satisfying life.  Obstacles are my using; drinking, compulsive
gambling and opportunistic drug taking.  I am putting up boundaries
against these destructive habits.  These habits were my lifestyle
that impinged on my self esteem.  Self esteem is the benchmark upon
which I decide whether something that I do, say, thank and feel is
furthering my goal of living a positive life.  Happiness is my key to
keeping me on my journey.  Laughing, caring, loving and faith are the
bricks of my path.
Along the way, I can learn from other's recovery process.  I notice
that if I am judgmental about how someone is behaving, it's an
opportunity to uncover that behavior in myself.  I am especially
alert when I feel irritated by someone's actions.  When a person
makes sweeping generalizations by using "we" a lot, I feel
diminished.  So I reframe my irritation by being more careful how I
discuss my feelings and observations.  It's a bad, ego gratifying
consensus building habit using "we" all the time.  I want my behavior
to reflect my belief that I celebrate my individuality.

Hi,
Was glad to hear about SOSJournal.  I like to write most every evening
or whenever.  It makes me feel connected to the good life and like a
magnet keeps me leaning in that direction. I see from the group
description that it's not so much about responding to others or
providing support than it is about writing out thoughts and feelings.
That's a good thing, I think.  No pressure. Not that I don't like
helping others and boosting their own leanings toward sobriety, but
sometimes the little one inside me needs the space front and center
without feeling guilty or neglectful of others.

I had to turn off the t.v. tonight (Nov 2).  Refocus on my life.

I'd like to spend some time writing about getting my physical health
back to where I want it to be now that I'm not drinking.  I've been
sober for a year, with only a single blip on the radar during that
time.  I feel solid now.  It's funny, getting and remaining sober has
the unintended (or intended) effect of solidifying my knowledge of who
I am.  My thoughts of drinking have been altered I think permanently.
I think of it much like I'd think of a life of crime or murder or
deceitfulness... it's just not something I'd do.  It's not in my
realm.  And I don't want it there.  I used to grieve the booze and the
escape. But that mourning is over.  Now I have sober mornings!

Just like I was able to get past the booze, I know I have it in me to
get my athletic body back.  I had done real well on a brief attempt of
an sos health group.  I was sorry to see it disband for political
reasons, but I'd like to reinvent that momentum for myself,
physically, here.  Exercise, diet, weight loss.  It's something within
my reach now, because I've got a handle on my moods and life to some
extent.  So I'd like to get myself back into a good habit of healthy
living.  The booze is gone, that was step one.  The mood swings that
were ruining my life are gone, that was step two.  Now it's time to
take that third step and get my butt running and caring about what I
eat.  It's just the natural next phase in taking care of myself.

It's a great list idea!  Kind of like a sigh of relief.  Like leaving
the city for awhile and taking a long quiet stroll down a country
road.

drSue

What a relief!!!!  I was so on edge about something for the last week
or two.  Not able to put my finger directly on the problem, I kept
transferring my anxiety to other things.  It was my out-patient
counselor.  She is so dismissive, even to the point of blasting the
radio during one on one.  I have resigned myself to go with the
program so I was willing to put up with her yawning and rushing
through things, doing paperwork and forgetting things that I told her
just a couple minutes before.  The appointments sometimes began with
her telling me how tired or sick she felt, putting the focus on her
needs.  I accepted this, didn't want to make waves becuse I believe
that acceptance of whatever goes on in therapy is part of my program,
I try not to resist.  When I described what went on to my other
counselor it was suggested that I confront my out patient therapist.
I feel as though it's a better course of action for me to go to a
different clinic.  Next week I'll start that process.  I have a
burden lifted from my shoulders.  The undertone of angst is subsiding
and I feel so much better.  Rather than get angry, I often become
sad, withdrawn and confused.  I often try to mold my behavior to
other's wishes.  Also, I've tried to buck the system in someways so
I've had some conflict between the two approaches.  Now, my self
esteem and confidence is on the rise since my needs take precedence
over other's feelings or doing things the "expedient" way.

Wednesday, October 26, 2004

I'm thinking about where I was seven years ago.

I would have been just cracking open another four litre bottle of wine, after
having finished the last dregs from the night before. I'd be having trouble
keeping my dinner down, would, in fact, go and throw up more often than not. I'd
be trembling until the wine took effect, knowing that I only had a few hours to
drink before I would have to go to bed, so that I could get up and go to work
the next day. I would light a cigarette -- the first of the day -- and smoke an
entire pack in six hours, while I downed my almost four litres of wine.

I think about those days, and I cringe. But I also take the time to realize that
had I not gone through that hell, I may not appreciate the life that I have
created since all of that ended. My life would have been very different if I
hadn't taken that first drink at age 13, and become instantaneously addicted to
alcohol. What would it have been like? I don't know, I can only guess. But I
know that what I have today is complete bliss, compared to the existence that I
had while drinking.

I have my days, like yesterday, where I think that things can't get any worse.
And then I think back to what I was doing seven years ago. And I pat myself on
the back, and thank all those who helped me to get to where I am. Sober, secure,
happy.

SJG

My years of addiction and living through stressful times has changed
my ability to feel comfortable.  I am numbed to my feelings.  I still
hold in my mind how alcohol could make me feel superbly relaxed.  I
miss that.  Most of the time I am tense and on edge.  I think that I
can recreate that feeling with meditation, exercise or a walk
outside. These pleasures do not have the instant gratification that
the alcohol and drugs provided.  Yet, now that I am practicing these
activities I must admit that I feel better afterwards.  I am more
relaxed in a healthy way.  I look curiously on how I feel about never
drinking again.  I've always prided myself on going against the grain
and doing "what I want, when I want to."  I keep in mind that the
grain that I was dealing with in a fermented form made the decisions
for me.  I have yet to get to the point that the idea of alcohol as
poison is instantaneously processed in my brain.  I will immediately
gag at the idea of eating a big fat cockroach.  I've smoothed over
the knowledge of the painful consequences of drinking to emotionally
survive.  Even though the facts of the terror that I've experienced
are there, I have hidden the memories, buried them so that I won't
feel that pain.  It's those memories that will turn my thoughts of
using to thoughts of disgust.  So while I'm digging up those
memories, I'm feeling guilty about the harm I've done and the missed
opportunities and wasted time.  I'm left empty, numb and
disappointed.  For those who would say that I shouldn't feel guilty,
I believe that they are wrong.  These memories are one of my best
defenses against my using again.  They are the cement of my disdain
for alcohol and drugs and gambling.  My survival depends on my knee
jerk reaction that using is poisonous to my health and well-being.
butterybear

Tuesday, October 26, 2004.

I'm hurting today, emotionally. Mostly because of the feeling that I've been
betrayed by someone that I thought had more respect for the working relationship
that we have, and partly because I'm also feeling so much like a failure lately.

On my way to work this morning, something struck me. The fog was pea-soup thick,
and it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of me. What struck me was
how very similar this was to the days when I moved around in an alcohol-induced
fog, never able to "see" more than a few feet beyond my next opportunity to
drink. In those days, I would have drowned these feelings in a river of wine.
And today, in a sense, that numbness would be welcome. But, I'll never go back
there, no matter how dreadfully hurt or depressed I feel. Because there is
nothing in my life that alcohol won't make worse. I feel pain, emotional and
physical, in all of it's depth now. And as difficult as that is at times, it's
better than the alternative of being oblivious to everything and everyone around
me.

Pain is difficult to take -- but it's a part of life. Life is to be experienced,
in all of its splendor and all of its ugliness. Each has its purpose, I suppose.
I'm just glad that I'm awake, even though it's not pleasant right now. I am
sober. That's what counts.

SJG

Hello to everyone who has joined!

Thanks for joining and please feel free to post as you would journal.

I find journaling personally cathartic, and put a great deal of my
journaling in poetry form. Whatever form you choose is perfectly OK
here.

Once again, welcome to this new SOS site!

Sue G.
Listowner

Hello--Thanks for starting this group.  Note taking and keeping track
of my recovery process keeps me vigilant as to the importance of my
recovery.  I'm always looking for ideas that will help me progress on
this journey.  Just recently I've stopped drinking coffee in my house
since caffeine is considered a mild form of contraband.  The
behaviors that I exhibited while I went to "score some coffee" were
similar to my addictive ones, anticipating buying the beer and
scoring the beer, then consumption.  I really am hoping to watch
around ever corner ferreting out old habits.  Honesty, in all aspects
of my life.  I'm drinking green tea, a tolerated beverage and I'm
finding that I have lost some of my nervousness and yet it's a mild
pick me up.  Of course old habits die hard so I do leave the tea bag
in for about 10 minutes.  I give myself points for acknowledging my
fudging.
I look forward to reading your entries.
Yours,  Susan