Tag: stuff

A moment

Everyone, including former Recovery Case Managers, know that relationships are a bad idea when you’re in recovery. Patients are always warned not to date fellow members. They are further cautioned against beginning new relationships while in the early stages of sobriety. Those already in a relationship while chasing sobriety can just hope for a supportive partner. When I walked into my first meeting, I was preparing to chase many thoughts out of my mind. One of these thoughts was dating someone in the group.

I was amused to hear someone say, “Have all the sex you want just don’t get in a relationship.” That works for some people, I’m not built like that. I’m a relationship person. Sex leads to feelings for me. Anyway, I noticed quite a few attractive members in the room. But I quickly remembered where I was and what I was there to do. Get better.

But one woman continued to catch my attention. I can’t get a feel for her exact age, but she seems age-appropriate. She has pretty blonde hair, nice eyes, and pleasant fleeting smiles. I’ve heard her story through her shares and she interests me. I kept my interest to myself.

We continued to see each other at daily meetings, and a few pleasantries exchanged led to a few minor conversations. She began to smile at me when she walked in. I didn’t read into it. She smiles at a lot of people. But one night I happened to be standing near the exit as she left. She looked very nice that evening and I told her so. She thanked me and walked past. While I was talking to another person, I looked to my left and she was looking back at me. She gave me a look. I can’t define it but if memory serves she was checking me out. I’m not very good at that stuff and it doesn’t happen often.

I’m sure that I just made her feel good. Her story suggests that her soon-to-be ex-husband isn’t nice to her so that may be it. All I know is it felt as if we had a moment. I remember the look vividly and it has remained with me.

We had a moment.

Tonight I told myself that it’s going to stay just a moment. I’m going to chase this out of my mind. I’m only thinking of myself in wanting to ask her for coffee or a late lunch. She is struggling with her life. Sobriety is hard and requires everything you have at times. Even a coffee with a well-meaning acquaintance may be more than she needs on her plate. It’s not fair to her.

I’ve always been a sensitive person. I don’t think I am selfish. I’ve even been called an Empath. But I take comfort in knowing that I can put another’s needs before my own. I’m not looking for a cookie or a pat on the back, I’m just sharing a nugget of personal growth.

I’m no closer to being ready to date than I was months ago. I don’t even know if I want it.

How Sobriety Changed My Morning Motivation

Occasionally, I look for topics outside of my wheelhouse to avoid repetitiveness and overkill. I have several books on affirmations, daily motivations, and such at an easy reach. This morning I picked up my “Question of the Day” book and opened it to today’s date. The question was a simple one. One that I would have moved past any other day.
The question is, “My favorite way to start the day is?”

This is a timely question. That is to say, had I been asked this 2 weeks ago my answer would have been very different.

11 days ago, I would start my day by waking early to my alarm. Then I would promptly hit the snooze button. Not always, but more often than not. When doing Car details or going to appointments, I sometimes had to leave early. Mostly, my morning routine was to get up and instantly make coffee and find my way to the sofa. There, I would sip my wake-up juice and watch the news as I searched for inspiration. Inspiration, for the sake of this conversation, meant that I was trying to find something to do. Many of those days I procrastinated until the wish to be productive passed.
Often, this was exacerbated by an upset stomach. I have been feeling sick in the morning. Many days I made many trips to the bathroom as I battled with an upset stomach. That certainly added to the procrastination and made it difficult to get out the door.
Many evenings I would think negatively about my day, wishing that I stop procrastinating and be more productive.
I had no excuse for not having a clean apartment. I was wasting opportunities to read the stack of books I had on my bucket list. I squandered opportunities to work on my blog, or the book that is actually shaping up to be something. Instead, later in the afternoon, I would see the glass of whiskey or beer in front of me. Then, I would figuratively beat the crap out of myself.

As of Jan 1st, in the absence of alcohol, I have been a morning person. Not the first day, but more and more so each day. This is odd to me because I rarely drank to to point of drunkenness. If so I attribute it to a hangover. It’s not. But that says more about my tolerance than about my portions. Clearly, the alcohol and consequent food choices had an effect on my system. Needless to say, no upset stomach in the morning. When the alarm goes off I get up instead of hitting the snooze. I get out of the house with ease, often leaving early to Drive Uber or hit an early AA meeting.

Today, I woke up and decided to do some things I had been putting off. I cleaned the entire apartment, paid bills, read Affirmations and started this blog. I was out the door by 10 for an appointment. Normally, that would be it. To be fair, disabled people set lower goals than healthy people. We’re happy to get one major task done each day to feel accomplished. That would be when I gave myself permission to have the first of many drinks. Instead, I kept going.

This is a pleasant side effect of a major life decision. I never knew that I would feel so much better physically and mentally in such a short time. I know I made the right decision.

My favorite way to start my day? Sober.

Overcoming Negative Thoughts: A Personal Journey

The voices have stepped up their game. It’s not unlike the episode of The Flintstones in which Fred has the Angel and Devil in each ear. I’ve always joked that voices in the head are harmless if they’re agreeable. Lately, they are not.

I have been plagued by negative thinking, over-thinking, and rumination for a very long time. I stop short of using the word “suffering.” Regardless of my choice of words, it is a major problem. I struggle with self-worth. I replay conversations in my head searching for mistakes I have made. I constantly wonder if people like me, or dislike me, and then debate the actual validity of it. I often tell myself I can’t do things and shouldn’t bother. I have been getting better at catching these patterns before they spiral out of control. But more often than not I let them run their course.
The only thing that quieted them was weed and many drinks. With enough of both, I managed to sleep at night.

The recent removal of alcohol from my arsenal has changed that. I still smoke weed at night. It doesn’t have a hallucinogenic effect on me, it just quiets my brain. Apparently, sleep was a product of the combination of both weed and several whiskeys. Sans the whiskey, now when my head hits the pillow it becomes an open forum for the negative voices.
The overall theme of each night’s performance is a delightful and predictable performance.
You can’t go without it.
You’ll give in, this is just a phase.
You’re not really a drunk. Just slow down a bit.
AA is not the answer. You’ll get bored with it.

I hope that this is just a phase.

I feel very good about my decision and, for the most part I am doing very well with not drinking. I firmly believe that my addiction was of a mental compulsion and sheer habit, not of a physical dependence. I still want a drink, again mostly out of habit. The habit is learned behavior and conditioning. I used alcohol as a reward for everything.
Accomplishment=a drink.
Happiness=a drink.
An occasion=a drink.
Well, you get it. Long story short (too late?), almost every day, I find a reason to pull into a liquor store or local tavern for several celebratory drinks. All thanks to the Autosteer feature all alcoholics have installed in their cars. It finds liquor stores and watering holes and automatically pulls into the parking lot for you.

At least for now, I have taken control of the Autosteer. I grab the wheel tight and instead, I pull into a friend’s driveway, churches, Masonic activities, and AA meetings. I believe that eventually, these driving habits will quiet the voices.

My Journey to Sobriety: 7 AA Meetings in 7 Days

Interesting observation. Well, you decide that, not me. Or call it a joke. Instead of ordering a 7 and 7, I have been to 7 AA meetings in 7 days.

It was an enormous but necessary decision to seek sobriety. I have been wanting to do it for a very long time. I have been in a cycle of indulging, self-loathing, and indulging again.
Wash, rinse, and repeat.
I finally realized I wouldn’t be able to do it alone. My bullshit was just too powerful. Alcoholics are master manipulators. I didn’t know it applied to our own selves. What bullshit, you ask?
Thinking about every possible reason why I shouldn’t quit. I tried to convince myself that my lifestyle didn’t support sobriety. Because, after all, everything I’m involved in has alcohol consumption as a component.
Bullshit, there are a ton of people that don’t drink.
I can do it by myself, I don’t need to attend meetings.
No, I can’t. I have tried dozens of times and my car continues to “auto-steer” into bars and Liquor stores.
I’m not really an alcoholic. After all, I don’t Blackout, I hardly ever get drunk, and it hasn’t affected my life.
Yes, but I drank every day. I did mental inventories on my liquor supply on the way home every day. I thought about what I would drink with who every day. And I got drunk or significantly inebriated most every day. I just had control, tenuous at best, but still control over it.

Control. That is what lies at the center of all of this. It is also the thing I struggle with about AA. As a Recovery Case Manager I found that many clients struggled with turning it all over to the Higher Power. I do believe in a higher power. I believe that it is I that refuses to drink today. It is I that forces myself to go to meetings. It is I who develops the determination to stay focused and determined. Yet, I was told today that it is all about surrendering it all. I didn’t argue with him. Instead, I am going to leave it alone. I will let it be revealed to me as I read the Big Book. I will listen to the shares.

I believe in the program and I can honestly say that I am enjoying it. I actually look forward to attending meetings. I always feel good when I walk out the door and the people are nothing short of amazingly supportive.

That is good because the suggestion is to attend 90 in 90 days.

While I struggle with the surrender aspect of it, I know the program works. It has done amazing things for millions. Everyone I have met who has achieved prolonged sobriety was once at a Crossroads. By virtue of hearing their tales, they chose the right path. So I’m going to give it a real try.


Facing Family

I revealed a very poorly kept secret to my family this week. It was not received as anticipated.

My oldest boy was surprised. Despite it being a poorly kept secret, he didn’t see it coming.
My youngest daughter was straight-up glad to hear it but not surprised. She had an idea of the secret.
My oldest daughter was surprised. But she also had an idea of the secret.
My ex-wife didn’t react at all as I thought she would. She knew more about the poorly kept secret than anyone.
My youngest boy was not surprised. He was glad but didn’t say much. When I asked him why, he said he figured I would tell him more when I was ready. I was ready at that point but he missed the cue.

I can’t believe that most of my family didn’t understand the extent to which I am an alcoholic.

My oldest boy didn’t think that I drank as much as I did. This is the kid who used to bring me multiple beers throughout the night and jokingly call them “water bottles”.
My youngest daughter suspected but was very happy that I admitted it.
My oldest daughter, who I see the least, had seen me at my worst as a child. She didn’t know I was still struggling.
My ex-wife simply said “I figured. I just hope that you’ll get healthy one day.
My youngest son, we did talk later, thought I had it under control. Barely. He figured that one day I would just stop.
My youngest son, the no-nonsense “call it like it is” one said, “Good. Now what are you going to do about it?”

I told him this. I also told the others. I am now in AA and have been attending 1-2 meetings a day.

It’s time to stop procrastinating. I need to fix the one thing standing between me and the man I want to be.

Reminiscin’

I was recently asked what was my favorite memory of my Father. One immediately

I will just start by saying my Dad was a god to me when I was young. Unfortunately, I feel that I worshiped at arm’s length. Later in life, I would understand the small gap of air between us. What I thought was reserved was actually his “Dad Hat”. My Dad was determined to be a good father. Committed to give me a good childhood and to make sure I had enough of everything. 

Because he had a lousy childhood and was given nothing, he was ending the cycle. 

What I refer to as reserved was just him trying too hard. I wish he had learned to just be himself around me. He eventually would, and when he did all was good. We enjoyed a very nice relationship in his later years. Nevertheless, Parkinson’s reduced him to a shell of his former self. He died in 2013.

I connected with my Dad through common interests. I made myself interested in things to spend time with him. When he was working on the house, I would hang with him and help out whenever possible. When he was under the hood of the car, I poked mine in as well to see what he was doing. When he watched Sports, I sat with him. I ingratiated myself to get close to him. And I’m so very glad that I did because my love of cars and sports came from him.

But what I love most from my father’s influence is my passion for motorcycles.

My Dad rode motorcycles as far back as I can remember. Motorcycles have an obvious allure. Aesthetically, the sleek styling, shiny chrome, and loud pipes appeal to the senses. The idea of them and what they represent excited the hell out of me. Freedom, danger, independence and (let’s face it) a badass vibe came to mind. That excitement has yet to wear off, but it is rivaled by the sight of my Dad pulling up the driveway on his bike when I was young.

It was agonizing on so many levels as I waited to be deemed old enough to ride on the back. When that day finally came, I was jumping out of my skin with excitement. I can still remember putting the helmet on and watching as dad made sure it was fastened properly. I remember the pre-ride speech about staying still and not making any sudden movements that may throw his balance. I vividly remember as we rolled down the driveway for the first time.

I wasn’t scared. I trusted my father to the moon and back. We went to our favorite place in Salem, MA. We ate pizza and Ice Cream as we watched the people scuttle about. It was a magic day and the place became our place after that day.

The only memory greater than that, my absolute favorite of all, involves the day I met up with my Dad. I was on my own bike to embark on our first ride together. We went to our place in Salem, MA, our place, and ate pizza and Ice Cream. This time, it wasn’t just the destination that mattered but the journey there and back. 

That is how I like to remember my Father. When I bought my first Harley after he had passed on. As I fired her up for the first time, I looked to the Sky and wondered if Dad was proud of me.

Connection

When I first decided to take advantage of alternate ways to earn extra income I asked around. Ride Share and Food delivery were the unanimous answers. The prospect of either of them sent my anxiety through the roof. But I knew I had to get past that. My benefits allow me to earn up to 12k/yr without penalty. I liken not earning that money to leaving it on the table. It also keeps Social Security Disability (SSDI) off of my back. When you try to earn, SSDI often overlooks your case. They do not find it necessary to do a Medical review and closely examine your ability to work full-time. Not that a medical review would result in an issue for me, my condition is certainly confirmed. But it is a hassle, one that I would rather avoid. And I like to work.

I enrolled in Lyft, Uber, and DoorDash. Uber wouldn’t accept me because my car was ineligible due to age. I decided against Door Dash because I really don’t like handling people’s food. Lyft terrified me because, while I’m a good driver I am bad at directions. I procrastinated for a month (I put the PRO in procrastinate) but finally took the leap. It wasn’t bad once I was used to the Application. It is notorious for being wrong and I dreaded getting grief from riders. As it turns, they are very forgiving and understanding, most of them are aware of the erratic directions and mistakes. I forget sometimes, people are almost never as bad as you expect them to be.

I immediately took to Lyft. I got the hang of the App. I was beginning to earn a respectable part-time income. And I discovered the source of the appeal of giving strangers rides over delivering their food.
Connection.
I crave connection. To those who know me, you are aware that I am not at a loss for friends. My support network is vast. Through Masonry and other activities, I have something that many men my age do not. Did you know that most men over 50, regardless of marital status, have almost no close friends?
Despite my obvious wealth in this department, I can’t meet enough new people. I love it.

Riders are a mixed bag of personalities. In training for Ride Share, we learn to be mindful of topics of conversation while on a fare. We must also be mindful that some people do not talk. This is not ideal for me and my big mouth, but I get it. Many of my passengers get rides every day. They either enjoy the alone time. Alternatively, they don’t want to engage in conversation with an old bald guy with a goatee.
Then there are the ones that talk a little. They are easy to recognize, they choose who they want to engage with. Then there are the ones that talk with you the whole ride. They want to know about you, they want to talk about their day, or simply want to make a connection. I have come to appreciate them all.

Most days that I drive I end the shift tired but energized. The knowledge that some money was made doing something that I enjoy comforts me. It is good for my soul. There are days that I have a memorable passenger with whom I shared a connection. It can go both ways; maybe they helped me, maybe I helped them. Maybe…we helped each other. It makes me feel valued. The kids are grown now. I am out of the workforce. I long for the days when I was needed. I truly believe that sometimes we were meant to meet certain people. Now, I am not suggesting that it’s a privilege to meet me. I am suggesting that sometimes one person is exactly what someone needs at that particular moment in time.

I suspect that you can not get that from dropping off a bag of Taco Bell on someone’s doorstep.

Only in the movies

“C’mon, let’s go get the shit kicked out of us by Love.”
Sam from Love Actually

This kid, this character. He’s my hero.

I had never seen Love Actually until recently. I had tired of the standard fare; Scrooged, Christmas Vacation, It’s a Wonderful Life. So, I searched a streaming collection of holiday selections and gave this one a shot. No regrets. It features a great ensemble cast. There are some “awww isn’t that sweet” moments and a great ending. It also includes my favorite type of character, the precocious young lad who believes in laying it all on the table for love. Bonus, he knows the rules of the Rom Com. This is evidenced by his comment, “I have to wait to the end, that’s when you get the girl”.

Now, the benchmark role for such a character is the son in Crazy Stupid Love. A hopeless romantic who never gives up. A believer in grand gestures and a yearning for romance that far exceeds the sensibilities of a young boy. A boy with the patience to actually wait for his one true love and the balls to go after it. Sam captures all that while dealing with the loss of his mother. Despite the sadness and utter turmoil he was enduring, he fell in love. And when he learned that the object of his desire was moving away, he channeled everything into getting the girl.

This post isn’t so much about this kid or his role. It’s about how I’m reminded by him of how I used to be. I never have been capable of the grand gestures portrayed in movies. But I was a devout believer in true love and I would really put myself out there in pursuit of it. I would have, given the chance, tried to get past TSA to stop a girl from getting on a plane. I would drive all night to spend an hour with a woman I loved.
Now, I don’t think I would cross the street for it.

I’ve given up. I choose not to date. I can’t do it to myself anymore. Love and Romance has been reduced to something that is found only in the movies. I can’t reconcile it with real life anymore. On the screen, I see happy endings and bold gestures. But in my mind, and in my gut, I only recall pain, bitterness and disappointment. Relationships now induce feelings of loss and rejection, which inevitably lead to my blaming myself. It’s a vicious cycle I don’t have the stomach for anymore. If for no other reason, I removed myself to protect what little is left of my heart.

Sam’s impulsivity and bravery in Love Actually is something I can relate to it and always enjoy it onscreen. But it’s a foreign concept to me now, putting myself out there. I am capable. I can flirt with the best of them and I am virtually fearless in talking to women. If only I was able to do that when younger. The difference between then and now is that I have no expectation of getting the girl at the end.

It’s a self-preservation thing. Young Sam is ready to let love challenge him. I really admire him for that. It’s a valuable lesson in life and a necessary rite of passage. No matter how bad it is, he’ll get over it.

Me, I’m still reeling from the last beating. Love is now a spectator sport to me.

The Evolving Role of a Dad at Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve and I am very excited about spending time with my family tonight. With my children now grown adults, the dynamic of the Holiday has transformed greatly. Permanently etched in my mind are the Christmases of old. It was always a huge ordeal at my house when I was a kid. My parents loved Christmas and were very generous. My Dad was so dedicated to my mother that he truly could not stop getting her gifts. Sadly, I think it was insecurity masked by generosity but it was certainly based on his love for her. The exchange of gifts was borderline excessive. But I was always provided for and I enjoyed the Christmas holiday.
I enjoyed it less and less as I got older. I began to see it for the rampant and crass commercialism that it was. When the kids were young, I enjoyed it through them. As they got older, I smiled and acted happy. Holidays would become a major stressor for my wife, and consequently on me and I soured on most all of them. But I suppose that is a story for another day.

I did enjoy Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve was always a great night at my house as a kid and remains a fond memory. The house was full of family and friends imbibing in drinks and snacking on holiday treats. It was a zero pressure evening, the gifts were already wrapped, the toys were assembled, there was nothing to do but enjoy the calm before the storm.

Christmas now consists of a party on Christmas Eve, and everyone goes their separate ways on Christmas Day. I love this transition. It reminds me of the old days. But it is much to my ex’s chagrin that hosting duties have been passed on to the kids. She wants to still do it. I think she misses the Holidays when the kids were young. I suppose it’s a natural reaction to aging.

My oldest daughter has hosted for the last few years. It is such a great time. I look ahead to it all year. The kids, their spouses, and significant others gather. A smattering of family friends and new in-laws join for drinks, a nice meal, and then games.
I missed it last year. I had COVID. I was miserably sick and depressed about missing it.
This year, my oldest boy and his Fiance welcomed us all to their nice new apartment. Just reading his texts and emails are warming to my heart, they are so excited to host us all.

This is a small chapter in the “How to be a parent to adult kids” manual. My role of the father has evolved. While my children would disagree with this, I would argue that my children don’t “need” me anymore. It’s not that I don’t have a role, it’s that I’m not depended on by them anymore. This is troublesome for me because that is something that I miss in both my personal and professional life. I was always an integral part of things. Now, I have a support role.
To put a positive spin on this, it is a victory of sorts to be in this situation. During the days of family turmoil, there was a lot of arguing and resentment. I often worried that my children would resent us. I feared they would not have need for us once they were on their own. I now believe that we made the repairs in time. By acknowledging that fear and being proactive about repairing those fractured relationships.
My role now is to be there when they need me, otherwise to sit back and beam with sheer pride at how magnificent they all really are. It’s not about taking credit, it’s just gratitude that it all worked out.

I am so excited about tonight. Still, I harbor a fair amount of sadness. My youngest daughter and my ex are still not speaking. As a result, my daughter will miss yet another family event. This I hate, so many magical moments have happened recently; a wedding, engagement, the birth of a beautiful little baby…she’s missed them all. I can’t say if she is bothered by it but I sure am.

It’s difficult to enjoy a holiday while missing someone. I miss having her around. I need harmony in my life. I guess you can’t always get what you want.

A familiar face

Over the last year I have made a lot of meaningful changes in my life. It was a good year, but not without its challenges. While I have seized a tentative grip on my physical health, my mental health has suffered a bit. Last winter, I was quite prone to depression. This resulted in an increased alcohol intake. It also led to some long periods of self-isolation. The symptom of isolation is particularly damaging. It often involves days, if not weeks, of inactivity and bad dietary choices. The physical implications are as bad as the mental. It was if my mind and body atrophied at the same moment.

Fortunately, I am self-aware enough to take measures to make sure that doesn’t happen to me this winter. I am back at the workout club. It is remarkable how much better I feel when I get off of my ass and move my body. This simple act improves me both physically and mentally. In addition, the new “chill” and “reasonable” Bill is not worried about the long road I have ahead. He is also not concerned about reaching a level of acceptable fitness. Chill and Reasonable Bill doesn’t worry about how much weight I have to lose. I’ve been down many long roads before. If I keep my head down and keep walking, I will get there. Worrying and putting pressure on myself will not get me there any sooner.

Tuesday I was doing my best imitation of a workout. It wasn’t great but I was pleased with myself for just getting myself there. As I rested for a bit after a tiring set, I did some people-watching. I do this against my better judgment as I have a tendency to compare myself to others and that is a dangerous thing to do as a fat 60’ish guy. There are a lot of very fit people and it’s intimidating. Fortunately, I am comfortable with my expectations, and it doesn’t really bother me anymore. As I scanned the room I saw a familiar face.
Where did I know him from? That is a often-played game for me. I have met a lot of people from a lot of chapters of my life and I get confused easily. In addition, my memory is not like it once was. It’s frustrating.
He walked towards me and stuck his hand out. “Hey, Bill.”
Damn, it was Adam. One of my clients from my days as a Case Manager. Side note, coincidence that I blogged the day before about those days? He recognized me right away. Not surprisingly, after all the amount of time I spent with the guy was not insignificant. I felt bad, he knew that I didn’t recognize him right away.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t make the connection because of where we are.”
“You know I live in this area, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t when we met. I recently moved back.” The facility was 100 miles away, near my Mom’s house where I formerly lived. I explained it to him.
“You look great. Can I assume that you’re still living the sober life?”, I asked. He explained that, with the exception of a couple of slips he was doing well.
I learned that he is now divorced. I remembered that his wife was not supportive of him during his recovery. So, I wasn’t surprised to hear this. I also learned that he was living with his parents, which he was not happy about. But he was still at his job, and he was in great shape. I didn’t push with any more questions.
We made some small talk and parted ways. I was sure that I would see him again as long as I kept going. I hope we can talk some more I hope.

As I’m recalling the run-in, I remember that a toxic trait emerged briefly. I wanted to ask him if I was a good Case Manager to him. Did I make any difference at all for him. I then chased that out of my head. If he hated me, he wouldn’t have greeted me. Recovery in general clearly was working for him. I knew I was good at the job, by several accounts. I know, for better or worse, that I did the absolute best I was able for him. I did the absolute best for all of my clients. I’ve come to place a lot of value on that notion, win or lose do the best you can. That’s all you can do. I’m pleased with myself for not being insecure and asking him that question. It’s not about me, it was always about him.