Monday Musings on AA

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what I’m doing in AA and what, if anything, I’m gaining…besides a place where I feel comfortable.  Is that all it has to be?  And why do I feel so comfortable there?  Is it because after hearing their stories I feel better than them because I wasn’t as “bad” (just keeping it real here), or is it just because, as I’ve said before, it’s the only place I’ve ever been that I don’t feel shame.

And, if I’m really keeping it real, I have to say I don’t feel as good about being in the program as I used to feel.  The more I go to meetings the more I wonder if AA is really for me.  I don’t think I’m giving it what I’m supposed to give it and therefore am probably not getting out of it what it was designed to give me.  Does that make any sense?  Who knows…

For example, I’m on the precipice of my fifth step and I’m not feeling any urgency about getting it done.  My sponsor has had to reschedule a few times and I’m not the least bit concerned.  I’m not worried about it or afraid of it (like I was the fourth step), in fact, I’m a little apathetic and that’s what has me worried.  I feel like I owe these people and myself more than just lip service. 

Another example…I haven’t chosen a home group.  I’ve done some reading in the meetings and I did the detox meeting but other than that, I haven’t done any real service work (Catholic guilt maybe?).  I’m down to one meeting a week.  My name isn’t even on anyone’s phone list.

Plus, when I’m in the meetings I always feel like I’m saying the wrong thing.  I get looks from the regulars and comments later that make me feel like I’m doing it “wrong”…like I’ve been around enough to know better.  I may have been sober for awhile but I’m just a baby in the program.  I’ve even been going to beginner’s meetings because they teach what the program is about and what the “rules” are.  The only problem has been in those meetings that they “call on you” (to make sure everyone interacts) and while I know I could pass I don’t and then I feel like I’ve said something wrong.

Maybe I’m just lazy and this is going to sound really, really, bad but I just don’t need anyone else in my life right now.  If I put my name on the phone list then someone is going to call me – I HATE talking on the phone and AA people live by the phone…they have to…it’s how they survive…it’s a life line and one I know would be available to me at a moments notice if I needed it.  But I don’t think I can give anymore of myself to anyone else right now.  All my life I have given myself away and taken care of everyone else.

Wow…maybe that’s it.  Maybe now I just want to take care of ME.  I’ve finally opened the door to taking care of myself and providing myself some much needed nurturing and I feel like if I immerse myself into this program the way I should, I’ll end up nurturing everyone else and just put myself on the back burner again.  And that back burner is what got me here in the first place.  Everyone talks about how selfish and self-centered alcoholics are.  For me it’s just the opposite.  I give and give and give until there is nothing left for me…then I turned to alcohol for my own nurturing.  I didn’t like me very much.

And now I’m beginning to like my own company.  I like quiet and solitude.  I like being alone with my thoughts…taking the time to write them down and figure them out and quite frankly, that’s all I have the capacity to do right now.  If I become a part of this organization the way I think I should (because with me it’s an all or nothing proposition) then I’m afraid I’ll have to abandon this journey that I’ve just started. 

And this journey is nothing short of a miracle for me.

So (and this is why I love to blog so much…I’ve come to the end of the post and I’ve decided what I’m going to do…I love being a girl), I am going to print this post and go over all these feelings with my sponsor (who just called in the middle of this post – is that a God moment or what?) and see what she recommends I do.  I’m just going to be me – honest and open – and tell her that if I reach out and really embrace the tenets of this program then I’m going to end up mothering the hell out of it and anyone who comes within 20 feet of me.  Right now it’s not what I need and it’s not what anyone else needs either.  These folks don’t need a mother, they need an AA partner.

Thank you God for my sobriety today and for this blog and for all those in the blogging community.  It has truly been a salvation to me.

Namaste people…namaste.

Memories on a Sunday Morning

I don’t usually post on weekends but something happened last night that I need to get down on “paper” so I can examine it and figure out how I feel about it.  That’s what this blog does for me, it lets me get my thoughts out so that I can turn them around…examine them…flip them upside down…and then figure out how I feel about them.  The length of the post is directly proportionate to the complexity of the subject matter.

Anyway, my boys are working the tech crew for their high school’s spring production of Guys and Dolls.  They’ve roped my husband in also and what this means is that, since opening night is this Thursday, I’m alone a lot this weekend.  It’s nice.  I’m enjoying the quiet and solitude.

When I was drinking I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate the alone time during the day.  I hadn’t yet learned to be alone with my own thoughts so being by myself left me feeling discontent and restless.  The nights of course were a different story.  Being alone was exactly what I preferred because I could probably get an extra bottle in before they got home, drink a glass out of the next bottle so that it looked liked I just got started, and save the third bottle for after everyone went to bed.  I thought I was so slick…

So yesterday my husband got home about seven and the boys went with the rest of the crew to a local restaurant to enjoy some young adult bonding and have some dinner.  I’m sure they showed their ass but that’s what teens do.  Mine included…I always feel sorry for the wait staff.

About 10:30 they came bounding through the door with a group of friends in tow.  They were laughing and introducing kids and I was hugging it out (I’m a hugger) and asking if anyone wanted anything.  They hung around for awhile, were invited to breakfast this morning before they head off to school, and then they left.  My boys then spent the next hour and a half filling me in on all the hijinks’s that occurred during the day and by midnight I was pooped.

This morning as I jumped out of bed to shower and ask the hubs to go to the grocery store so we (he) could prepare breakfast for this group of heathen children (my pet name for my kids is heathens), it occurred to me – this could/would have never happened when I was drinking.  They would not have likely brought anyone home that late for fear of what condition I might be in and what I might do to embarrass them.  They would never have invited anyone over for breakfast this morning because they would have known that I would have had a hangover and not wanted company.  Thank you God for helping me to quit before they had to experience this….

And then I remembered…I remembered all the missed sleepovers and girl talk that could have occurred in my bedroom as a teen.  They never happened because I never knew in what condition my father would be.  I remembered that I never joined any after school activities because I knew I had to go straight home and check on him (I was the oldest…typical child of an alcoholic behavior).  I remembered walking on egg shells all of the time.  I remember being an adult way before I had any business being an adult.

And so as I was rushing around to shower and look presentable for this group of kids, I made sure to say a big THANK YOU to the Big Guy this morning for bringing me out of that hell and thereby sparing my children a repeat of my childhood.  I thank him for a clear head, and settled stomach and children who will never know the hell of being a teenager with a raging alcoholic for a parent.

Now pardon me while I set the table and help the hubs…these kids eat A LOT.

Happy Sunday everyone.

Happy Anniversary My Love

Today marks the 29th anniversary of the day I made the best decision of my life.  In spite of what my head told me to do, I followed my heart and went out with Mr. D for the first time.  I have never, for a single nanosecond, regretted that decision.  Even when he is on my last available nerve…I do not regret having dinner with him that night.

To clarify, this is not my wedding anniversary.  I seldom remember my actual wedding anniversary.  The hubs and I lived together for 10 years and had our oldest child before we were married.  The child was 6 months old when we decided he deserved married parents.  He was in all our wedding photos and is very proud of that fact.  I only asked that he not volunteer that information to the nuns when he was in Catholic school (that was my own Catholic upbringing kicking in)…other than that, I’m proud of it too.

But we started celebrating this anniversary while we were living together to mark time (and give us an excuse to go out and drink…let’s be real here) and it stuck.  So when we were left to choose which one to celebrate we chose this one.  It’s been that way ever since.

We were two old souls who had passed this way before and were finally blessed to find each other.  The rest was inevitable – it was God’s plan…the Universe complied…and I was smart enough to say yes.  Honestly there was no way that I could have turned him down – the pull was just too great.  I kept trying to stay away since I had just left my practice husband and he and wife #2 had just split but I literally couldn’t.  It was like a magnet to iron – a BIG, STRONG magnet and a HUGE piece of iron.  BAM!!!!  We were stuck.

All I can say today is that in those former lives I must have done something very, very good to have been blessed with this man.  He has taught me how to love unconditionally.  He has taught me to parent from a position of respect rather than power.  He has taught me that although love sometimes means saying you’re sorry (okay…I taught him that), it also means forgiveness is always there also.

The most important thing he has done is to teach me to trust.  I’m still learning that lesson.  He’s the one who could rip my heart to shreds and yet I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would never do that.  That’s a very big deal in my world.

So happy anniversary Big Guy!  After 29 years you still rock my world.

“Listen to me, mister. You’re my knight in shining armor. Don’t forget it.”  ~ On Golden Pond (1981)

There Are Some Good Memories

This is now…it’s changed quite a bit in 40+ years!

Last night when I was walking the dogs, the smell of honeysuckle floated in the air and I was immediately 8 years old again and living in the city.  Isn’t it funny how smells can do that?  I don’t think anything triggers a memory or an emotion for me more than a smell does.

We lived on a city block in an apartment.  The entire block was apartments with alley’s in the back and small parking lots in between every two buildings or so.  The clothes lines were in those parking lots and they were surrounded by chain link fences.  Someone had planted all kinds of flowers next to those fences so that you could no longer see the fences once Spring had sprung.  There were roses of all varieties and, in spite of the fact that I have never been able to grow them, they remain my favorite flower (as you have probably noticed).  Forsythia grew like weeds in that parking lot and for that reason, to this day I do not like them…to me they are weeds.  There were lilacs also…I love the smell of lilac.  And there were honeysuckles that we used to pinch the blossoms from and suck out the sweetness (when you could get past the bees).

No more chain link…no more flowers.

So I spent a few minutes back in that parking lot and thought, wow, not all my childhood memories are bad.  There are some good memories.  I had a pretty rough childhood.  Not as bad as some but by my mothering standards it was pretty bad.  There was never any physical abuse but you don’t have to hit a kid to royally screw them up – sometimes just opening your mouth (or not) will take care of that.

But, like most of us, it wasn’t ALL bad.  I made some great friends in that neighborhood.  There was a HUGE tree in the front yard that shaded the building in the spring and summer.  The grass didn’t grow under it because of the shade and also because us kids played there every day.  We played red rover, and freeze tag, and jump rope, and kickball and we ran our cars through roads we made by pushing dirt up into mounds and then carving roads in the mounds.

There were pine trees at the corner of each building that, for some reason, grew so that if you squeezed behind them right at the corner, there was a little space down low that made a great clubhouse.  And since there was one at every corner, each clubhouse “belonged” to a specific group of kids and you had to know the password to enter someone else space.

Across the street was vacant land through which ran a creek…well it was more of a stream.  Now I know that the land probably didn’t meet some guidelines for development because of that stream but for us, it was a vast wilderness that needed to be explored everyday…but only by the older kids…the younger ones weren’t allowed for fear they would wander off and thereby get us in trouble.

The creek is just beyond those bushes and small trees.

Since I lived in the Nation’s Capital, we would climb to the roof of our buildings on the 4th of July and watch the fireworks from downtown on The Mall.  Lawn chairs and coolers were on the roof and grills and watermelon stayed on the ground.  We would sit on the stoop and eat and then make the climb.  Believe me, for a kid that was the highlight of the year.  We didn’t care that much about the fireworks…we were on the ROOF!  For a long time I thought everyone got to see fireworks like that.

There was also a sidewalk out front that was great for hopscotch, bike riding and running to meet your dad when he got off the bus from work.  It was also where a yucky man “flashed” me when I was 7.  It was so stereotypical because he actually was wearing a raincoat in the middle of summer (hello police…didn’t you think that was odd?).  I found it necessary to tell him in my most indignant 7 year old voice that he wasn’t very nice before my girlfriend and I fled to the safety of my apartment.  I was, for the most part, an honest, outspoken and brave child…I believe I’m still all of those things.

The basements of all of the apartment buildings were connected and so it made a GREAT haunted house at halloween…or so I was told.  I was never allowed to go which really made me angry but my parents thought I was too young and they didn’t want me scarred…you’ve got to love the irony of that statement. 

We moved not long after the race riots that took place after Dr. King was murdered.  Race relations were tense then and I was a little white girl who was getting beat up on a regular basis because of it so we moved to the suburbs.  It was sad because I loved that neighborhood with all my heart.  My father had just begun to lose his eyesight (he had Retnitis Pigmentosa) so he was still working and his drinking had yet to get out of control.  My mom was a mess but I don’t think I realized it until I was much older.  I think in my mind that move divided my childhood.  Before the move things were good, after the move not so much.

Of course that wasn’t true and as an adult I know that in my head, but my heart holds it’s own memories.

So thank you honeysuckle bushes for reminding me that I do have good childhood memories and that going back and remembering them does not have to be painful.  Rather, it can be a pleasant and lovely experience that fills me with nostalgia and helps me remember a time when I felt loved.

Gratitude Baby…

Can’t think of anything to write about today so you know what that means….


Dear God,

Today I am grateful for:

  • Being a sober and recovering alcoholic as opposed to the other kind.
  • Found money.  Apparently I had money left in the company that laid me off in 2010.  It’s not a lot but it will pay my son’s summer tuition.  Thank you for guiding my husband that way and thank you for making me listen to him and thank you for the new purse I’m going to buy myself for my birthday next month.
  • My children who brighten my every moment with their love and laughter.  Help them overcome their issues whatever they may be and help them to do your will.  One is struggling with woman issues (but he’s a playa so he’s always struggling) and one is a little lost right now I think (haven’t really heard from her in awhile which usually means a late night, tear filled, I need money phone call is imminent) so give them a little extra attention please.  And give me the patience to deal with the lost one when she does call.
  • My current contractor assignment.  It’s so nice to be back with these crazy people.  They make me forget that I’m “just a contractor” and they make me wish I wasn’t. 
  • Spring – I love the sense of renewal this time of year.  It makes me believe that anything is possible with time and patience and love from God.  I’m so happy it comes around every year and smacks me in the face with that message. 
  • My patient, loving, sometimes aggravating but always there husband.
  • Our dogs who teach our children what unconditional love REALLY looks like.
  • Helping me to let go and let You – be patient with me…I’m still learning.
  • Painting classes!  We’re going again next week and we’re painting the Eiffel Tower.  I’m so excited!  Which brings me to…
  • Dreams.  My friend and I have decided we’re going to Paris (I think we should do Rome and London also while we are there).  I don’t know how and I don’t know when but I know that it’s going to be top of mind for me and we are going to go.  I don’t have many dreams like this – I tend to be really practical when it comes to extravagance but this one I’m going to do.
  • Mad Men…thanks to my girl over at Back to Being Me…I’m now hooked!  Almost done Season 4 and I have the new season DVR’d so far.  So good.
  • My relationship with You..always first even when I forget.  I love you.


“Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.”
~William Arthur Ward


Feeling a little unsettled today.  I’m used to this feeling…I get it all the time.  Before I got sober this feeling would be the start of a bad day which meant I was justified in drinking all evening.  I would focus on that unsettled feeling and find anything I could to “name” it (work was stressful, I was cut off in traffic, etc.) and then dwell on it to the point I would walk in the door and the look on my face illicited a, “What’s wrong?” from my husband.  Nothing was wrong of course…it was just my subconscious way of getting to the booze without the guilt.

Then, after I got sober (but before I began to recover), I would just “white knuckle” days like this waiting for the other shoe to fall and for the world to collapse around me.  This feeling must be a premonition of bad things coming right?  Bad things always happen to me to ruin my good time right?  So this must mean bad is coming my way.  The evenings were spent deep in thought and contemplation of how awful I was and how things were never going to get better but oh I’m so glad I’m sober (which I was…that has never changed).

Now I’m seeing things a little differently.  Now I sit and think about the feeling (well okay today I was driving to work but you get the idea).  What, exactly, is going on that is making my stomach all wiggly and what, exactly, is the emotion that is fueling it? 

Today’s wiggly has been brought to you by the letter A…as in anxiety.

I’m anxious.  I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about feeling that way before but that’s exactly what I’m feeling.  So the next logical question is why?  And I found the answer by just taking a little time and thinking about it.  I’m anxious because there are things happening in my life that are out of my control and it’s making me uncomfortable.  As soon as I was able to name it, the wiggly feeling began to ease.

And why did it start to ease do you ask? (Okay I asked but it’s a blog so work with me here.)  Because I’m letting go of things that are out of my control.  The post I did the other day about letting go wasn’t just lip service (or keyboard service in this case), I really meant it and I’ve really been working on doing it.  And it’s working. 

I’m starting to think about the emotions I have and how I choose to react to them.  Is this something I can control?  Where is the need to control it coming from?  Will I help someone by acting or is this just about me…again?  Is this one of those times I should just step the hell back and let God take care of it?

And what is happening to me as a result is a miracle, a wonderous and beautiful miracle. 

I am beginning to find peace.

Who knew?

On Easter Bunnies and Other Things

We are a very spiritual household…note that I didn’t say religious.  Organized religion had a place in our lives while the kids were young but now…not so much.  I still drop in to Mass from time to time but never just on Christmas or Easter.  I refuse to be a C&E.  It’s just not how I roll.

So we recognized and paid reverance to yesterday’s real meaning, all the while enjoying the family and friends time AND the arrival of the Easter Bunny.  Little bastard showed up and dropped a butt load of candy on my house.  Nice…

Yes, I still prepare Easter baskets for my kids.  Many, many years ago I purchased three Longaberger baskets for them and we use them every year.  They are fairly small which has cut down on  me going over the top (not that I EVER do ANYTHING like that) and when they grow up and move out they can take them with them…and maybe continue a similar tradition.  I don’t have any traditions or memories like that so it’s nice to do it for my kids.

We dye eggs as well.  They get really excited about it too.  Especially since I broke out the Sharpies a couple of years ago and now they get VERY creative about their eggs and how they are decorated.  It goes much quicker now but I still love to watch them gather around the cups, dipping the eggs in and out until they get just the right color and then carefully placing them in the cardboard holder that Paas provides.  Three almost grown men dying and decorating Easter eggs and bragging to their friends about it…many of whom are envious.  I wonder if their parents realize how much they miss this simple little ritual.

I am fortunate that my drinking never got to the point where I was ruining holidays like my father did.  I controlled it enough that they were in bed (most of the time) before I got too bad.  That said, the last couple of drinking Easters I don’t remember much about assembling the baskets and I was very glad we were no longer going to church on Easter morning because my ever present hangover would have made church….ummm…difficult at best.

Now I jump out of bed on Easter morning and start preparations.  (Since they are all teens now – they sleep much later so the late night bunny work can be left to the morning – there are some benefits to them growing up.)  I bring the baskets down, make sure they are perfect, maybe prepare breakfast or just get the hardboiled eggs out.  Later I make the table pretty, arrange flowers in the house, maybe run the vacuum.  All very mundane tasks made sweeter by the gift of sobriety.

Happy Easter Monday everyone.  Hope your Easter Sunday was sweet and that the memories will live in your heart forever.

A Sugar Addict Comes Clean

Sunday is Easter which, in my house, not only means the rising of our Lord from the dead, but the arrival of a fake bunny (that always creeped me out by the way) bringing colored hard-boiled eggs and chocolate…lots and lots of chocolate.

Of course my “kids” are all way past make believe and they all know the special significance of today and Sunday (they were raised Catholic) but I still do Easter Baskets for them and they love dying eggs on Saturday night. 

In years prior to my sobriety, the hubs always made me a basket and filled it with crazy amounts of chocolate.  I eventually ate it all but not in an insane, out of control way…just a little at a time…starting with the ears of course.

The only other time I ate sugar in those quantities was Christmas when I baked and made fudge.  Other than that, I steered very clear of chocolate and sugar because I was always watching my weight and 1) if I ate candy then it took the calories I needed for wine; and 2) the calories were just so empty and there was not enough satisfaction in the eating them.


Now it’s a totally different story.  I have truly traded one addiction for another and come Monday, it’s going to have to stop.

I remember when my dad finally quit drinking for good (because he was dying of cirrhosis of the liver) he began to eat copious amounts of chocolate.  He always had one of those HUGE Hershey bars in his nightstand and in the end table in the living room and throughout the day he would always have a little square in his mouth.  He also started drinking Coke.  Full sugar, all the calories Coke.  It actually made me sick to watch him take in all that sugar, but as long as it wasn’t beer…I was a happy camper.

Now I know why he did that.

I am now addicted to sugar and chocolate.  I have traded an addiction to cigarettes and alcohol and shopping, for sugar and chocolate.  I am not nearly as bad as my dad was, but diet sodas taste way better than they used to and I control whether or not the chocolate is purchased – if I don’t buy it then I don’t eat it.

So now sugar and I have come to the point where we must break up.  I am hoping that we can still remain friends but I’m thinking it might not be possible.  I’m also going to take a break from sugar’s family – carbohydrates (the bad kind…from white flour) for awhile and try only to eat the good part of that family going forward – the ones that are more complex.

Here’s the thing – I’m not even really sad about this.  I thought I would be but I’m really not.  I know it’s going to be hard and that I’ll likely be cranky and grumpy for a while but I also know it’s really bad for my body both internally (inflammation and potential diabetes) as well as externally (extra weight).  When a relationship becomes toxic (like alcohol and cigarettes did) then it’s in my best interest to just go separate ways.

So on Monday I will begin a two week sugar cleanse and then try and introduce only complex carbs back into my diet.  Bear with me if my posts seem to be um…angry, depressed or disjointed…I promise it’s temporary.

But first I will eat the ears off all the bunnies in my house on Sunday and not feel a bit of guilt about it.

Happy Easter everyone!

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  ~John 3:16

The Woman in the Mirror

I was standing in the bathroom this morning thinking about today’s post…you know like…what the heck am I going to write today after Lou gave me such a wonderful compliment yesterday and now I feel the pressure to be witty and coherent? (Just kidding Lou – thanks again.) Then I looked up to see my reflection in the mirror and thought, “Who is that woman?”

I have NEVER liked the way I looked.  I have always struggled with my weight, skin and self-esteem.  Part of it comes from being the sister of a gorgeous person (at one time) and most of it comes from being the daughter of a narcissist and an alcoholic.  It really doesn’t matter – what’s done is done and I’ve been trying to overcome it all of my life and as a result, I am preoccupied with how I look and how I appear to the world.

Inside is really no better.  I’m trying to see myself as I really am but this early into recovery I’m still second guessing everything I do and say.  My confidence has been taken down several pegs (which is a good thing in some respects since most of my confidence in the past has been false bravado) and I’m working on rebuilding it.

So this morning I took a really hard look at that woman in the mirror.

I saw olive green eyes with long lashes, perfectly coiffed brows, a straight nose thanks to two nose jobs, very few wrinkles due to oily Italian skin and limited sun exposure, ears that do not stick out, a mouth that has begun to turn down slightly but that still has fairly full lips the lower of which remains rather pouty. All in all not too bad for a woman who will be 51 in less than a month.

Then I looked at my face as an entire package and…nope…still don’t like it.  The fact is I look too much like my mom and my sister to ever really like the way I look.  Their sins live within me and when I look at myself I see them…plain and simple.

Then I start trying to look through the reflection to see what I am inside.  This is somewhat trickier since, like most recovering souls, I am really not sure who the hell I am anymore.  I used to know (or thought I did) but it involved a great deal of drinking to numb pain and to make me feel confident and included.  Without it?  That one is still up for debate.

Here’s what I know so far.  I’m still loving, warm and kind hearted.  People still want to come to me for advice and hugs.  I can still be funny and make people laugh out loud.  I still have a great sense of humor.  I have a greater capacity for compassion and empathy than I have ever had.  I tend not to judge people and wait to find out what’s going on underneath before I draw any conclusions.  I am nice.  I can be charming.

One thing you should know is the use of the word know is very important in that last paragraph.  Some of these things I thought I was, prior to sobriety and recovery, but  now I know.  I’m not sure how well you can relate to this, but it is such a relief to know that I am good and kind and loving all the way down to my teal painted toenails. 

And perhaps, eventually, that will begin to show through that reflection and I will think of my self as pretty.  For now, it is enough to know that my soul is pretty.  And since that’s all God sees I’m pretty dang happy with it.


I am a chronic rearranger.  I’ll get a look in my eye and my family says…here she goes again.  Even my friends know.  Once some friends were staying at our house for the weekend watching the boys and the dad said, “Let’s rearrange the living room and see if Sherry likes it!”  My kids assured him that I would and if I didn’t, it only meant more work for them.

It happened again yesterday.  On the way home from work, something told me to go home and rearrange my bedroom furniture.  Well I’ve learned not to argue when I hear that voice so I went home and rearranged my bedroom…again.  My boys helped (I used to do it alone and we have very HEAVY furniture) and my husband was pleased (well…actually he doesn’t really care as long as it makes me happy) so all is well.  AND I have a brand new bedroom!  I even switched lamps and bedspreads around (and no one noticed…men!)

It’s just that sometimes shaking things up is exactly what I need to make the house feel all new and shiny bright.  It gives me a new perspective and makes me appreciate my belongings even more.  It also give me an opportunity to clean house and vacuum under all those areas that were in the dark and gathering dust (no…I do NOT move my bed and vacuum under when I clean…I strive for the illusion of clean).

You feel it too don’t you…there’s a metaphor coming on…

Yes – it’s just like my life recently.  Toward the end of my drinking days, I did very little rearranging of anything inside.  I just had no ambition and didn’t want to see anything differently.  I just wanted to sit up in my room and drink my 1-2 bottles of wine a night (maybe more on weekends) and pass out…alone.  Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.  Don’t rearrange anything and don’t vacuum under anything…I’m F.I.N.E.

Even though I didn’t rearrange on the inside doesn’t mean I didn’t shake things up on the outside (because, of course, that was the root of my problem and the cause of my pain – what was going on outside…Lord have mercy on my pathetic pea brain sometimes).  So I did quite a lot of rearranging on the outside (see yesterday’s post) and because it was void of any real feeling, thought, or prayer it really didn’t work out all that well.  Except for the fact that the path I was on brought me exactly to this spot and for that I am a very grateful woman.

So anyway – I see sobriety, AA, blogging and the search for peace and serenity to be my way of rearranging my psyche (damn…that’s deep…try to keep up).  Of cleaning house and vacuuming under all the dark areas and letting them into the light.

I’ve gained a new perspective on my past, my present, my loves, my faith and my work.  I’m beginning to feel all new and shiny bright.  I still have the down times but I’m able to pull out of them much quicker and certainly in a much healthier way.  I stop and think about my feelings when I’m feeling them rather than seek to numb them and run away.  That’s what I call progress.

Now I’ll do what I always do when I rearrange a room.  I’ll step back…take a look at the room over time…tweak some things and then, eventually, I’ll do it all again.

So I’ll step back from my new perspective on myself, take a look over time, tweak some things and then, eventually, I’ll find the peace and serenity I seek.