Alcoholism: A fact in my life.

Alcoholism is a disease of apathy. I have always known that alcohol is poison to my body. But the truth is my disease does not care. I can write about my track record pertaining to alcohol. I can talk to sober friends. I can look someone in the eye and admit I still struggle with alcohol but it will never stop me from picking up again and again. It does not matter that I get physically sick or that I embarrass myself. Money is no object because I will find a way. And that is something that I have to live with for the rest of my life.

I remember coming up with this great speech that I would give to young people whenever I had a chance. It goes something like this: Do you know what happens to you when you say you don’t know or you don’t care? The students say no. And I ask again…You don’t know? And they get more interested. And I repeat the question for impact. Do you know what happens to you when you say you don’t know or you don’t care? And then I answer. When you say you don’t know or you don’t care decisions get made for you. You have given up your option to choose. And you don’t even know it. 

But the truth with most issues in life is that we do care. Alcoholics care far more than anyone realizes. We are super sensitive individuals battling a disease with our own mind. And that disease needs to be respected because it is bigger than us, more powerful, cunning, baffling, disruptive and painful than we can humanly handle. And we care. We care that we feel like crap and that our dreams fall to the wayside. We care that we have lost ourselves over and over again. But again and again we lose this battle.

And that is why divine intervention is real. The fact is there will be thousands of days I cannot stop drinking and then one day I ask God for help and I stop shortly after. This is commonly reported by many recovering alcoholics. Furthermore, our problems soften in time and turn into miracles if we stay on task. I am not sure if a “normie” is that lucky. Maybe God allowed a normal person to have many joyous days and we needed the extra help. It seems plausible to me at this point.

Divine intervention has always preceded my ability to live a sober life. When I get out of my way and trust there is something bigger present, my life takes on a new form. Many alcoholics do not like the idea of God. They say that they do not believe it. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if it is true or not. I don’t want to die so I will believe in God. And I cannot do it for someone else. God does not play that game. It has to be for me.

Although, there is nothing better than being in a room full of happy recovering alcoholics. Recovering alcoholics are hilarious. They get each other’s warped minds. We understand that we are isolators, easily resentful, maimed by our own actions. We know the depths of hell each of us has traveled and we are very grateful to be back.We become awesome leaders, lovers, parents and people.

And in a split second we do not care. And the minute we begin to not complete tasks, not show up for commitments, not participate in an active way in our lives we unravel. It doesn’t always pretell a pending relapse but it does say something about the state of mind of the person.

Therefore, my actions must direct my life, not my thinking, if I am to lead a life free from this substance. I do not need to know why. I just need to do it. There it takes great humility in surrendering to this fact. And in humility there is  great freedom. I cannot think of a better way to live than to be free. I could ask for nothing more.

Peace out.

 

 

Men Have Sex with Short Skirts And Marry Long Ones

long-skirts-19

 

Oh I can hear it now. People standing up in arms rejecting my hypothesis. But hear me out you little short skirt women because you have a lot to learn.

Women have been sexualized through time so they are attractive to a man. For marriage? No…for sex. The tops are tighter, the colors more slick and the make up is painted on as if a blemish doesn’t exist. We go to the gym. We don’t eat. We feel absolutely worthless when we hook up with some cute guy and he never calls again.

We laugh it off with our friends. Guys will be guys, right? Wrong. It is up to you ladies to decide if you want a man or a boy. Because a real man is secretly looking for a wife and he wants your beauty to be revealed not advertised.

I learned this the hard way. I would give out my phone number, asks guys out and even pay for their beers trying to be Gloria Steinem of our decade. Nothing worked. Finally, some guy tried to give me his phone number and I said you call me! And It worked and it continued to work until I found Mr. Right. You see the truth is the more someone invests in you the more they want to invest. Lets say that again, “the more someone invests in you the more they want to invest.” This is a proven strategy of persuasion.

For instance, he buys you dinner. What do you wear? A long flowing skirt and appealing top with some heel not stilettos. Don’t give it all away. This man will not be able to stare at your unbelievable body but they are sure likely to wonder. Instead…he talks to you. He gets to know you. And even more important, you get to know him. If you showed up with a leather mini skirt the whole date would be about lust. Flirting would be high but no one really gets a sense of who each other are when you are laying down four hours later in bed with him. WEAR A LONG SKIRT!

Throughout time  men instinctively are the hunters and the women are the gatherers. Is this sexist BS? Yes, but life is not fair and if you want your heart touched more than your boobs listen to me. Dress like wife material. After the wedding you can walk around naked to the store. He knows you by then. He knows you are not just a skirt.

Many will argue with me. But our biological make up always beats our ideals. I am not saying be a submissive woman. I would have none of that. I am saying be you without trying to be overly sexy. You are worth that. You deserve someone who will adore you and love you and always find you fascinating. That is over in one short skirt incident.

We must start where we are in life and in society in order to make change. The salmon who swims upstream often dies. Work within the system of this amazing life of love and stop throwing your brains out of window. We know you are smart but your actions say everything. Reach inside the system and change it within. And that starts with long skirts.

In essence, you will not find men in bars or clubs or even at the gym. Real men have jobs. Those places are where the boys play. Be patient my Long Skirt Woman and spend your time making your life better. He will come…just not on the first date. 🙂

The End

 

God is Orange

orange chair

I threw myself into alcohol oblivion while going to different bars hoping no one would recognize me from other bars in town. I was living with my best friend’s mom and she was nice enough to take me in and help me detox and provide much love that I desperately needed. She was a Eucharistic Minister that attended church everyday who was serving God by helping me. And it felt wonderful to be around someone who was not toxic but only held great concern for me.

It was the next day at her house that the truth about my alcoholism became utterly apparent. And one would think  that after the detox, the shakes, the sounds, the voices,the chills, sleepless nights and countless cigarettes that I would never dare touch the stuff again. But it didn’t take long for me to relapse and I started right where I left off; wanting to die.

I knew of one place I could go to get help but I thought I was better than those women. They were criminals and prostitutes with their kids taken away. I could not get help with this sort of foul-natured types. I was from Thousand Oaks. I was upper middle class and I was not about to go.

Jose, a busboy from work confronted me one day. “I saw you running in your car today.””Running?” I thought to myself. I had no clue what he was talking about. “I spoke to the Holy Spirit today and he said you are not one the right path. That God has other plans for you.” This was not what I wanted to hear.

Yet he was right, entries from my journal begged for death from this torturous life I was living. I could not see any way out. It was just a matter of time before I would end it.

A few nights later, I dreamed that I walked into “The House of Hope.” This was the place where the criminals roamed and the prostitutes taunted. But I walked in and the entire room was decorated with orange furniture with barely any room to actually move.

A woman asked, ” What do you want?” I answered in a soft voice that I was looking for the House of Hope. “You got insurance?” she asked. “No, I will go.” I said. “Now wait a minute I will be right back.”She shuffled through the orange furniture until she found her way out. All I could hear as she walked off was something extremely foreign to my ears.

When she left I noticed a radio. But what played from it seemed unfamiliar. It was like a thousand angels singing at once. Music so beautiful, I became mesmerized and I completely forgot the orange room with the firm lady and why I was even there in the first place. It was the loveliest sound I had ever heard in all of my life. No instruments, only acapella. And voices sung from the end of time out of the speakers of this old rusty radio that radiated the unconditional love that we all search for.

Then I woke up.

I could not shake this orange room dream. It was like no other. And for the next few nights when I woke up I felt like someone was holding me in my bed. But I was alone. Things were not making sense.

My best friend’s mom became aware I had relapsed. The feeling in the house grew cold.When I fist moved in all doors were open throughout the house and now they were closed. I was making the mom sick with stress. No one wants an active alcoholic in their home. Yet I had nowhere to go.

She finally confronted me one morning after I had a night where I blacked out and made a terrible mess in her home. I did not deny anything. But I was not about to go through withdrawals again without  being under the care of a doctor.

I was  accepted in the hospital and I shook and I sweat and I was scared and I was ashamed. The doctor gave me some Valium but when I went to sleep I dreamed of some snake man pushing me into a smelly swamp of serpents. “Is this where you want to be?” The Snake Man screamed. “Is this what you want?”

I actually woke up and I was sure that the doctor had given me LSD. But this was good old fashioned delirium tremens. Like many before me, I was experiencing hell on earth.

When I was finally released from the hospital I was pretty ecstatic. I had no cravings for alcohol and I was willing to do what it takes. I told my best friend’s mom that I was not going to call the House of Hope, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I just want to see if it is orange.

Down into the barrio I went. The streets of San Pedro shared great violence among its residents. But I had nowhere to go. And as I pulled up in front of this halfway house/rehab I could not help but notice two of the brightest orange chairs sitting outside the gate waiting as if to say hello. ORANGE. No doubt about it. Flawless beautiful orange.

And I was home.

 

The Truth and Nothing But The Truth

In the mornings, looking over the Ventura sunrise, I began to show up at the grocery store to buy liters of gross white wine.I was thirty years old, I had very little money at that point  but I tru…

Source: The Truth and Nothing But The Truth

I Have Arrived (for now)

There is a concept that most adults live under that pressures them to be more and to do more. Heck, my first word was actually “more” as a baby. It is the heart of capitalism in some ways. Yet, the feeling of “making it” behooves us as we strive and strive for triumph and glory. Or at least to have a big house, a nice car and some accolades to go along with it all.

The first time I thought I arrived was when I moved to Santa Barbara. I lived on Del Playa and I could see like 10 inches of ocean from my tiny kitchen window. I was so happy. But my happiness lessened as I learned how hard it was to struggle to get by as a young adult and I began to feel my feeling of arrival may be premature.

When I bought my first house I thought this is it! It was very small; one bedroom and one bathroom on a corner lot with a 1/4 acre of land. I lived there happily with my eight cats and myself until I was completely broke. I seemed to survive without that house and I concluded once again…I had not arrived.

Oh but my Master’s degree. That was the ticket and I treasured this wonderful piece of paper until I found out there were too many applicants in my field and it would be highly unlikely I would get a job where I was living at the time. I spent $60,000 to arrive and I learned if I am spending money to arrive that it is doubtful I will find that to be enough. Yet, I went on.

Then… Steve, Corey and I became US Diplomats and we lived overseas. This was in the advent of Facebook and I was more than proud of posting my diplomatic status as I moved with ease through the airports and customs lines while visiting embassies feeling part of the community. But it did not take long for me to realize my reasons for wanting to be a Diplomat were simply vain. I wanted to look cool. But I did not nothing to gain this status except marry a doctor. Once again I walked away disheartened. Actually I flew away that time since we were in Africa.

Now people can say that they do not give a poop about what people think. I have said it. But it simply is not true. We do care. We do compare and we do contrast and most of are still on a learning curve towards that “arrival” moment. However, if you look deeply inside you may find that “arriving” is only a social construction of reality we all agreed upon to make us miserable and insecure.

But I still continue on my search and now I know I have “arrived.” There was something I always wanted but never could afford. I did not pay for this it came with the house. But the most heavenly invention in the world has entered my life and I don’t think I need anything else to fulfill my idea of “arriving.”. What is it you ask? Well its beautiful and cold. It relieves me when I need it and it is always there at my beck and call. We share a bond of unconditional love that no ther mortal nad inanimate object could ever share. I see it smile at me when I walk in the room. And I will stay with it in sickness and health to death do us part.

I have finally arrived because I am now the owner of an ice machine attached to my refrigerator. And it has crushed ice and water, too! Love never tasted so good!

It is not the simple things that makes us happy. That is bull. But it can be the simple things at times. We live in a society that is always asking more. But today I am going to sit down and drink my ice water and relish in the beauty of the day. I might do it the next day as well. You know where to find me. The place where I have arrived (for now). 0505161355