A Laugh A Minute

June 27th found me accepting a 4 month coin for sobriety. I’ve stayed off the juice but have been struggling to keep it all together in other areas. My nemesis, food, has exposed my powerlessness in taunting fashion. Since starting this journey toward recovery in a multitude of arenas I’ve only lost 15 lbs.; a little under 4 lbs. a month. My cardiologist mentioned that side effects of atrial-fib and atrial flutter are fluid retention and weight gain and I should expect both until the ablation surgery scheduled August 4th. Wonder if another side effect involves a craving for Chipotle Burritos?

Last week while awaiting an interview for an Angler’s Club, I stopped at Chipotle for lunch. My wife had the girls and I needed to eat so I justified a “one time” stop to celebrate my personal progress. My sponsor suggested that I should “seek hope” in something beyond my surgery, so I am stretching my boundaries and hopefully will be accepted to pursue a common passion with others. I find out July 13th if I’m accepted into the Hamilton County Angler’s Club. With a spring in my step I ordered my burrito with double carnita, the kid behind the counter had trouble wrapping the contents. After the second try to secure the burrito he said, “Oh, my God” then looked at me and started laughing. His eyes went up and down resting on my belly then he started laughing harder. I asked in a calm Zen like fashion, “What the fuck is your problem?” The girl at the cash register started to smile while watching him then her face went blank when I looked at her. I spoke with the manager and he assured me it was a miscommunication. I asked him, “If someone stares at you and laughs and doesn’t bother to explain, what would you assume?” He assured me he understood and gave me a gift card for a free burrito. Just what an over weight food addict needs, a free burrito. I walked out humiliated.

I tried to shake that incident off as best I could and made it through the Angler’s Club interview. Being introduced to other members around the lake, a gentleman made it a point to jump off a floating dock when it appeared I may step on. He made a big production by saying, “I’m getting off if he’s coming down!” Laughter followed and then I was asked what size shirt I wear, for club purposes only I’m sure. I replied, “4 X.” More laughter and comments like, “We’ve never had one of those.” Suddenly, standing by that beautiful lake, the middle of paradise turned into the middle of nowhere.

It has often been said that people with addictions are the last ones to know. It’s a nightmare to know what you are but can’t stop the train wreck. I believe addicts have a beautiful defense mechanism called denial. I deploy it on a daily basis. I have been trying not to focus on the reality of my weight, but the Universe seems to be sending messages in an alarmingly increasing fashion. I’m reminded of Chapter 6, page 82, in the Big Book which reads, “He is like the farmer who came up out of his cyclone cellar to find his home ruined. To his wife, he remarked, “Don’t see anything the matter here, Ma. Ain’t it grand the wind stopped blowin’?” My house is ruined and I can no longer afford to ignore it.

Just to make sure I got the point, that evening in front of a few hundred people along with my wife and children, I was called on stage at a carnival. The performer was lying on a bed of nails and wanted to find the largest individual and specified “preferable over 300 lbs.” A woman I ran into from a Sangha I attend started screaming, “Over here!” while pointing at me. Soon the whole crowd was pointing. For someone who wants to blend I am thrust into the spotlight frequently. I was called up and stood on him to the laughter and applause of the crowd and I remember thinking “I hope my gut doesn’t stick out of my shirt at this angle.”

I started my day being laughed at to the astonishment of one and ended the day with being the astonishment of hundreds. Being a freak show finale isn’t as glamorous as I had imagined as a kid. I know I’m eating my emotions and replacing one addiction or perhaps amplifying one addiction over others. There has got to be a “why” to all this. I just hope it doesn’t take more humiliating billboards for me to get the message.

I didn’t attend the Sangha gathering the following Tuesday. I had had enough of my size being a focal point for one week and I just didn’t want a cherished safe place to become another one to avoid.

Here's picture proof for shits & giggles.

It Is What It Is. Isn't It?

Approaching heart surgery, I’ve been given a plethora of advice. I know all mean well, but the most troubling has been the uninvited offerings of spiritual equations. It boils down to my recovery or survival contingent upon if I’m prayed up, questionable doors are closed, and a hedge of protection being bestowed upon me. What if I achieved all those mandates and still don’t make it? What if the person in the next bed is a proclaimed atheist and survives? Where will logic blossom in that irony? I’m chuckling as I write. I’m sure the conclusion would be that God has something in store for the atheist or, the most frequently used talking point to explain spiritual conundrums is, “God’s ways are not our ways.” That leaves the door wide open for any rationalization you can imagine.

I’ve been told by an individual that my heart ailment is the result of an oath I’ve taken as a Master Mason. Yes, I’m serious. Over the years I have been witness to extreme connect-the-dot “Spirit filled” revelations that have been given personally by God. Nothing is left untouched in this realm and it includes and not limited to angel feathers magically appearing, angels hanging out in people’s backyards, and picnic table discussions with Satan himself. That in itself is scary but not as scary as watching the masses that devour such dribble as “infallible truth” then defend and argue such imaginings and count it a badge of honor if others call them insane. Their prophetic success rate is even par with psychics who cold read clients and concoct fate through tarot cards. An ironic turn of karmic happening flopped in the individual’s lap who continues to slander the Masonic craft, but I’ll leave that behind ‘a closed door.’

Carl Sagan addressed this topic in his phenomenal book “The Demon-Haunted World.” Here are a couple of paragraphs worth considering.

“In the diagnosis of disease, Hippocrates introduced elements of the scientific method. He is chiefly celebrated because of his efforts to bring medicine out of the pall of superstition and into the light of science. Hippocrates wrote: “Men think epilepsy divine, merely because they do not understand it. But if they called everything divine which they do not understand, why, there would be no end of divine things.” Instead of acknowledging that in many areas we are ignorant, we have tended to say things like the Universe is permeated with the ineffable. A God of the Gaps is assigned responsibility for what we do not yet understand. As knowledge of medicine improved since the fourth century B.C., there was more and more that we understood less and less that had to be attributed to divine intervention – either in the causes or in the treatment of diseases.
We can pray for the cholera, or we can give her 500 milligrams of tetracycline every 12 hours. (There is still a religion, Christian Science, that denies the germ theory of disease; if prayer fails, the faithful would rather see their children die than give them antibiotics.) We can try nearly futile psychoanalytic talk therapy on the schizophrenic patient, or we can give him 300 to 500 milligrams a day of clozapine. The scientific treatments are hundreds or thousands of times more effective than the alternatives. (And even when the alternatives seem to work, we don’t actually know if they played any role: Spontaneous remissions, even of cholera and schizophrenic, can occur without prayer and without psychoanalysis.) Abandoning science means abandoning much more than air conditioning, CD player, hair dyers, and fast cars.”

What if life just happens? I’ve experienced several unexplainable events personally and within my family that allow moments of wonder to percolate, but I’m not willing to dumb down unexplainable events as mystical forces working for or against me.

A cynical outlook? Perhaps, but I’m leaning more towards the tangible than the invisible and that view doesn’t necessarily conflict with hope. That is another matter entirely. The power of prayer, well wishes and thoughtful encouragement can contribute to recovery but in the vast mechanism of life I sense it’s more of a consoling practice than a changing of destiny. When others believe in you it creates hope and hope is a powerful force. Hope is what it’s all about and it should not be tied to any type of spiritual bartering to appease a mystical force. I think we need to hope in ourselves as well for the continuation of being. As my great grandmother would say, “If wishes were fishes we’d have some for supper.”

I’ve made my choices and believe I have the best team to perform my surgery. It is what it is. Just a few thoughts while awaiting the unknown.

Breaking Free not 'Breaking Bad'

Eating well has not been going well. I have avoided posts because of my naughtiness during Easter. Why do we celebrate everything with food? Especially unbelievably tasty treats. My daughters got four buckets worth from grandparents and us and the temptation is out of this world. Slowly but surely I have whittled away at the items they don’t like so my consumption will go unnoticed. I’m controlling some compulsions and becoming more active now that my heart's atrial-fib is under control, but I would be a lot further along the path if I were mindful of proper intake instead of eating what I wanted. Small steps. I’m headed in the right direction but my tendency to want to complete a 1000 mile journey by foot in one day sets myself up for failure. I am beginning to recognize the pot holes that line the streets of the bad neighborhood that is my head.

I have been compiling several dietary approaches and adapting those to meet my needs. I’m not sure one size fits all, but a conglomeration of different ideas can be beneficial. Strictly adhering to one person’s opinion can have horrible outcomes. Each person’s medical and anabolic makeup vary and I think your own body will tell you what works. I will watch my calorie intake to ensure that I burn more than what is consumed. That way I’ll lose instead if staying stagnant. If I don’t pay attention to that detail then I have a tendency to rationalize eating a double cheese burger & fries because I will exert myself by cutting the grass. I need structured accountability but I'm lazy when it comes to consistency. What a Catch-22.
Another area I’m incorporating is all Natural Foods. Free range or grass fed beef is slowly making its way into our menu plan and REAL milk will be there shortly as well. I’m amazed at the Biggest Loser’s recommendations for food and snacks that are nothing more than chemical processed molds. Most of it is some sort of corn base with artificial flavoring. When I eat these recommended chemical cesspools, my blood sugar becomes unstable. I don't know why, but it's a pattern. I learned from my podiatrist that a diabetic’s intestinal tract doesn’t retain vitamin B very well, so I was wondering what other nutrients my body isn’t receiving? Going natural will ensure a balanced blend and won't be a shock to the system. I don’t want one extreme or another, just a workable middle.

I was fitted for and received orthotics for my Plantar-Fasciitis. The inserts have been throwing my spine out of alignment or they may be aligning my spine as it should be. Time will tell. I feel better with the inserts than without and I was able to walk quite a bit yesterday without tremendous pain afterward. My heart is strong and steady now that I have the right cocktail of medicines. I feel this is the most positive direction I've experienced in a long time.

I’m really doing well with activities but I'm just not motivated to workout in a gym. I hate being indoors and especially when it seems like a rush to get in, jockey for locker space, work out among the masses, then wrestle to get back to my locker and fight to get out of the parking lot. It seems ass backwards to me. We have become so sedentary in society that we need a facility to promote and facilitate activity. I would rather walk the dog or work in the yard.

I have a golf outing May 15th with old high school buddies and they have all expressed disbelief at how big I’ve gotten teh last time we've gathered. I am hoping to have a few pounds shed by then, but they are also heavy drinkers. I’m walking into a potential hot spot on two fronts. I’ve been sober 50 days and I’m just now coming out of the fog. I am still in a vulnerable stage when around a bunch of good-time Charlies throwing back my favorite drink of the Philistines. Last night my wife closed down a bar where a guy she wants to make music with was playing. I guess that’s what musicians call it these days (Hardy-har). His band apparently has opened up for U2, has his own recording studio and has had gastric bypass surgery with the result of significant weight loss. He embodies everything she’s interested in and everything I'm not. I can no longer do the bar thing, I will not have the surgery to lose weight and I don’t have a recording studio or have any desire to play in a bar. They text each other on a regular basis and I'm told friends do that, even if they're married. This morning while lying in bed she stated that she has never laughed as hard as she did last night. When I see her she is always in the grips of frustration at the kids, me or about something she’s lost or forgot to do. When she’s away from us it’s the best time EVER. Time will tell. I want to believe that all my concerns are just noise from that bad tenant upstairs again.

I’m not worried about her reading this if anyone is concerned. I shared that I was blogging my confessions of Alcoholism and Compulsive Overeating and not much came of it. I want us to have an understanding and open communication about it so I mentioned it, three times. Then, I sent her the link for the second time and she said, “I read through all your posts.” And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. She expressed some disbelief at my actions but has never mentioned it again. FB events, where local bands are playing, or where she’s meeting her friends for drinks are always front and center of the conversation in our passing. Hopefully I can navigate through this bad neighborhood of thought and just remain focused on what I need to do. “Resentment is the number one offender” I’ve been reading in the Big Book how to avoid just this kind of stinkin' thinkin'. So if I vent them here, it won’t be so bad among the living.

I really feel I’m breaking free. I feel strong and the baggage is continuing to drop on a daily basis. For today, I’m living in acceptance and that I’m promised is the key to all my problems.

“I think I’m cursed,” said my oldest daughter as we sat on the couch plagued by sickness for the second day. I started thinking about her comment when today found me worse than when I began the antibiotic Avelox 400mg, Qvar 80mcg Inhaler and Singulair this past Monday afternoon. I have been controlling my food intake and my blood sugars are maintained yet I’m still racked with body aches and rattling lungs. My heart is irregular, but I don’t believe it’s in atrial-fib but just to be safe I called my doctor since it’s getting difficult to breath. To the casual observer this would be a great moment to consider calling an ambulance, but I’ve lived this drill for over 15 years though I will admit this one does have my attention.

The last time I had these symptoms was during Thanksgiving 2009 while visiting family in Mississippi. It cost hundreds of dollars only to be told to see my cardiologist. An addition couple a hundred dollars for an echocardiogram and two series of chest x-rays and the diagnosis was “Well, it must have been something you’ve done.” The best cardiologist money can buy and I get a theory. The medical practice is a joke. As my uncle says, “They practice medicine alright. They practice on you for the next guy.” I was drinking moderately at the time while overeating, so I think I can contribute that Thanksgiving episode to what is termed as “holiday heart.” Today, I can’t tell you what is wrong with me. I’m short of breath and have difficulty walking across the house or talking for an extended time. I called the doctor’s office at 3:00pm and it’s now 6:00pm with no call back. Nice to know my symptoms do not require immediate action. $100 says the on-call doctor calls within the hour telling me to go to the nearest ER. I think that’s a rubber stamp answer doctors are required to give to avoid liability law suits. My new heart medicine is Multaq, an experimental drug and I hope I’m not the 1 in a 100 that has an adverse side effect.

It’s hard not turning to the cupboard when anxieties like these occur. I’m trying to treat the desire to binge on "sugar/carb anything" as if I’m contemplating taking a drink. Truth be told, I really have no overwhelming compulsion for a drink. Alcohol has not been kind to me since the diabetes has settled in and in fact it has been down right vicious to me emotionally and physically. Most of my medicines include a warning label with: DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION. I always thought it a suggestion, nothing really to take seriously. My last drunk really, REALLY hurt. Food is that easier softer way to quell that demon within.

Speaking of Demons…

My oldest daughter, as I mentioned, believes she is cursed. I asked her where she got such a notion and she replied that ever since she saw a black, lumpy shadow mass coming towards her from our bedroom she feels something is out to get her. She is contributing bad health with evil spirits. I have no idea where she gets these ideas and I’m hoping it’s not from Sunday school. Her last happy experience from a Sunday school teaching was when they told her she was going to hell for lying. It was big fun trying to console a crying six year old that she wasn't going to burn. I tried to explain viruses and bacteria to no avail. I almost asked if sacrificing chickens and beating drums would appease our unwanted guest but I let it go. She’s only eight, but no more Mystery Hunters for her. My wife felt that my involvement in paranormal investigations contributed to my health decline. I’m amazed by superstitious notions. Poor diet and untreated alcoholism win my vote. If there’s a fat inducing vomit enhancing demon that forces people to eat Pop-Tarts and drink to oblivion then she may be right. No matter how much I distance myself from the evangelical heebie jeebies it has now left an undesirable imprint on my daughter’s cognitive reasoning.

By the way, the doctor called as I was writing and suggested I go to the hospital. No lie. Whoever bet against me owes me a Ben. He said it is either the heart or lungs; point blank simple to him. We’ll see. I reminded him that no one had an answer as to the cause after a battery of tests. I think I’ll go for x-rays in the morning at their office and sidestep a bill as large as a mortgage payment from the ER. If I go through all this and once again the diagnosis is a shoulder shrug, then I may consider that strange notion of ‘a demon behind every bush.’

A Side Note:

I have had three strange Déjà vu moments within a month’s time that creep me out. Nothing significant about the event but there was an underlining feeling that these moments began a count down to some life changing happening. While experiencing this phenomenon I knew what each person was going to say and the direction the conversation would go. Somehow I felt charged to remember the significance of these revealed moments but it fails me. Absolutely insane I know. But, I do have this nagging feeling of being unsettled by it all. An actor who missed his cue. I’ve had dreams come true and impressions so strong that I was able to predict future events. I have also been wrong quite often as well. I’m no prophet so I’ll let time reveal what will be. It always does.

“Self Seeking Will Slip Away”

I attend an AA meeting famous for the soup it serves. The regulars take turns providing culinary delights and the saying “too much is plenty” always applies. For those who don’t like soup that early in the morning there’s a box of donuts available. It’s ironic to attend one twelve step group only to trigger the overeating compulsion focus of another twelve step group. The people are dynamic and the laughter contagious. I know that’s what keeps me coming back. I’ve listened to their stories and some seem truly horrific and impossible to live with, yet there is joy and freedom that only comes from those who are truly free. Who wouldn’t want to surround themselves with people such as this? In a nut shell, I want what they have.

“Survey Says!”

The meeting format for the Soup Group is to read a question, the whole room offers an opinion as to what the correct answer might be and at the end the answer is read aloud from the Big Book. One particular meeting stands out and the question posed was “What is the foundation stone of our recovery?” Almost everybody answered “honesty” and told of their attempts to be honest with themselves and others. “If we are not honest we can’t stay sober” many said. Some confessed they spent thousands of dollars on therapy only to find recovery when they got honest. A few contributed a recovery foundation consisting of ‘going to meetings’ and ‘taking care of themselves.’ The answer was read and a room full of wisdom having some in attendance with over thirty years sobriety got it wrong. The Big Book answer was, “Helping others is the foundation stone of your recovery.” There was a collective moan as it was read followed by laughter. Service to others never even showed up on our radar.

It’s All About Moi

Considering this, I see a huge divide with today’s current focus on self and the yesteryear’s belief held by the original founders. “ME” is the new island unto us. I have heard so many repeat, “This is a selfish program” and I couldn’t disagree more. Many such as me have picked up on this “false teaching” early in recovery and run with it. Alcoholics and addicts are selfish by nature so any encouragement to continue in that behavior will be adhered to. People have boasted of avoiding family responsibilities or refusing certain work schedules in order to attend meetings. Shitty behavior wrapped in noble intent. Broken families, lost jobs and the inevitable relapse are usually the aftermath of, “I’m doing this for ME” mentality. I speak from experience not condemnation having several relapses in 24 years. Nowhere in the Big Book does it say anything about selfishness being a character trait of recovery. One of the founders of AA made it a point to share, “Never was I to pray for myself, except as my requests bore on my usefulness to others.” Who thinks this way in today’s society!? I’m sure if modern therapy indoctrinations were available his attitude would have been, “I pray for myself and in so doing obtain my own happiness and then, and only then, can I be of benefit to others if it benefits me as well” The humble, selfless efforts of a hundred or so recovered alcoholics in the 1930’s could not have made a global impact if their teaching consisted of “Self Fulfillment” rather than “Selfless Acts”.

“It’s Déjà Vu All Over Again”

“If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it-then you are ready to take certain steps.
At some of these we balked. We thought we could find an easier, softer way. But we could not. With all the earnestness at our command, we beg of you to be fearless and thorough from the very start. Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.
Remember that we deal with alcohol-cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power-that One is God. May you find Him now!”

“The spiritual life is not a theory. We have to live it.” Great. Here we go again. I already mentioned I want what they have and I’m pretty sure I’ve been “properly horrified” by my disease to be willing to go to any lengths, but now once again God has the corner on this happiness as well? I tried that route and was as willing as any. I’m reminded or Woody Allen trying to convince a priest he wanted to be Catholic saying, “I’ll dye Eater eggs. Whatever it takes!” I don’t mind admitting that I’m a little nervous about the spiritual aspect having experienced the left foot of fellowship. And I'm not sure about what I can't see. As C.S. Lewis said, “When people say they’re searching for God it’s like the mice saying they are hoping to find the cat.” I’d rather keep my distance and hope for a letter to be delivered detailing the missing ingredients that seem to have eluded my being successful in recovery. But, I have a feeling a portion of the missing ingredients would be trust. That would cover the tangible and the Invisible. Flipping through the pages of the Big Book my eyes settled on this:

“Do not be discouraged. No one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. We are not saints. The point is, that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines. The principles we have set down are guides to progress. We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection.”

My thought process has been if perfection is not the end result then it’s not worth doing. I was told I had to be perfected in Christ which always seemed to be a failed voyage before leaving port. Contemplating on this it’s no wonder my sponsor said, “Forget everything you’ve done up to this point, obviously it hasn’t worked.” The advice from the pages continues.

“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.”

Perhaps if Christianity took this approach it would have been more attractive to me? Demanding one believe, repent and “shut the door on the past” all within a horribly urgent five minute conversation seems an impetuous act. Perhaps this “birthing process” of the new man does come slowly to some?

“When we saw others solve their problems by a simple reliance upon the Spirit of the Universe, we had to stop doubting the power of God. Our ideas did not work. But the God idea did.” I wouldn’t mind being proven wrong regarding these matters if I can laugh like those sharing their joy over a bowl of soup.

Too Little Too Late?

I experienced chest pains today. Not a vague tightness or aggravated indigestion but a ripple of pain that demanded my attention. The wave passed and I immediately thought I was having a heart attack. My youngest daughter was singing in the hallway and I thought of my oldest stating earlier that day she was happy. What a day to die. I actually was following a food plan, my blood sugar was under control and I had a successful shopping trip to plan for a healthier work week. It figures the day I begin is the day it ends. A second wave hit and I remembered a friend asking what a heart attack felt like before he died. Time passed with no additional episodes. I joined the girls and enjoyed movie night while keeping a vigil for any further developments.

This morning began with me staring at my medications. I know all the medicines except one are due to my inability to control my food consumption. I decided to gather my medicines and photograph them. By doing so I would be forced to acknowledge how far down the rabbit hole I’ve gone. Ever since I was diagnosed I believed that it would pass. Extreme denial or proper grasp of the situation has allowed me to put the severity of my situation on the back burner. I’ve heard other people’s reactions describing horror and immediate lifestyle changes when diagnosed. My experience was light years away from that. Little interest or acknowledgement was present. My compulsions have been forefront, not recovery.

A doctor once told me that diabetics are strange animals. A patient of his complained of shoulder pain and later that day died of a heart attack. He said ever since then he pays attention to everything concerning a diabetic. I thought of that today as I became motivated to work in our flower beds. They have been neglected for some time and the weather was cooperating so I thought one of my famous “Operation Clean Sweeps” would leave the landscape dazzled. A weird feeling came over me as if a whisper of warning. I paid attention and decided to relax. Whenever I control my food intake and need to tweak my insulin, my body reacts in strange often violent ways. Had I exerted myself as planned I feel it would of gone south quickly.

One recent wake up call was when I received a shot for plantar fasciitis in my heel. I believed the freezing application eliminated the pain but apparently the reaction from the doctor and nurse had me perplexed. They made a great deal out of me not flinching and contributed my pain tolerance to my size. I guess if you’re over six feet you’re immune to pain. That idiocy is another story. I didn’t flinch or scream out in pain as others have because I didn’t feel it. A two inch needle inserted all the way didn’t even cause a stir. I’ve noticed the way I currently walk the fluid motion I once had is gone. I walk like someone whose feet are asleep. The weight is becoming an issue for all areas of my body and big boned as I am the burden is noticeable and my body is making it known.

My health has been a bone of contention for quite some time in my marriage. Eventually, as in any relationship, the real issues will surface and the once ignored 800 lbs. gorilla begins to speak. Only in this situation I’m the 800 lbs. gorilla. My wife doesn’t seem to understand addictions and has repeatedly stated that I could have done something years ago about this. The helpless feeling is that I know that maybe that's possible, but I’m clueless as to how I could have or why I haven’t. I shared who I am and what I am from the beginning and at the time an assurance of understanding was given. Now, ten years later, she states, “I didn’t know you were this bad.” Hearing that spoken was like standing on an ice patch as it separates from land. Rejection has been one root of my addictions and this is just another tangle that goes deep in the soil. I became adrift emotionally and the feeling seems mutual as her time away from home outside of work has increased dramatically. I guess in a way I understand but it’s still a jab. Perhaps there comes a point when enough is enough and you seek fulfillment in other playgrounds.

The last night I drank was in her opinion the best date we’ve had in a long time. We closed a bar down and I could not speak unless slurring. Concentrating on my steps to the car I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was an alcoholic. You try different things to keep the fires going and I made the choice to participate in the party lifestyle knowing what I am and the difficulties drinking has caused. Bar bands are her passion and she wants to be in one playing different nightclubs. A way to include me is for me to play bass. She is also interested in bartending. I'll never see her if that's the case. The drinking environment she chooses is a poison for me. I can no longer be a part of that and I think that's OK with her. Shortly after our date night I revealed I was going back to AA. Hardly anything was said and the ice patch floated further out to sea.

My daughters are my main focus. Last night during a Father/Daughter Dance my daughters got teary eyed while we danced. In the back of my mind I wondered if it was too little too late. Perhaps that's what hell is, realizing the value of something right before it's ripped away. Intuition tells me something is in motion and I’m hoping the wheel is turning in my favor. I feel alone out here but I can’t go by how I feel because whenever blood sugars are unbalanced so are emotional states.

A medium once told me that my diabetes could have been avoided. A coach said making a come back was my greatest thing. I’m banking on a making a come back and avoiding the inevitable. My daughters deserve a daddy who will be present to prepare them for the world. I know there are no guarantees and I can get hit by a bus tomorrow, but I don’t want my death to be by my hand. I’m haunted by the thought of crossing over and my daughters seeing all that I am and rejecting me as well.

Don't Walk In My Head With Dirty Feet

“Scars are the proof that a healing has taken place” Chuck Mingo

A friend or I should say an acquaintance posted the above as his status. Chewing on this for awhile I could not shake the one dimensional conclusion this offered. I posted a response stating “Perhaps, but scars can merely be an indication that a wound has occurred, not necessarily that a healing has taken place.” He deleted my comment and followed up by saying “Not angry. Just choosing not to accept words that don’t encourage.” Let me paraphrase that, “Your thoughts are only important if you agree with me.” Out of loving kindness I deleted his ass. If a person puts something on a public forum and only allows certain comments that reflect their own opinions to be valid then I don’t need them to ‘walk in my head with dirty feet.’ In fact, I’m cleaning house in many areas of my life where people leave their toxic residue.

All of us have suffered. Certain smells or sounds can trigger uncomfortable moments in our history. Unexpectant thoughts appear for only a second but the lingering effect can loom for days. There are some things that take more than time to heal. Acceptance I understand is the key to all my problems, according to the Big Book, but crossing that bridge will take more than platitudes.

I suffered beatings in my childhood and healed physically, with minor exceptions, but emotionally I’m far from being ok. I’ve been diagnosed by two therapists as suffering from PTSD. I guess that post triggered a massive frustration I’ve encountered with beliefs proclaiming the power of positive thinking and the power of prayer. If you don’t think bad things then bad things won’t happen. If one can only pray the right prayer then your prayers will be answered. If we could just forgive and forget we can live in harmony with our fellow man. After much striving to adhere to these principles I can say without reservation that it’s all complete bullshit. Years of prayer and rainbow thoughts and I still calculate motive when someone comes within three feet of me.

Experiences can build or break. We all display scars of our journey but some healings are only skin deep.