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I am trying so hard to connect with and define what my Higher Power is, but I am struggling…other than the realization that I can see why newcomers to the NA program oftentimes refer to the program itself or meetings as a Higher Power. It’s because you get two things out of it consistently and unconditionally — LOVE and ACCEPTANCE. What do we normally equate those two things with? God.

Backstory: I was baptized and raised a Catholic until around 14 years old. Thanks to a fanatical Catholic godmother, I am a recovering Catholic. My mother’s tribal teachings of faith in the Creator, our ancestors, the four directions, combined with a mad variety of metaphysics and encouragement to explore the journey, led me to a mixture of beliefs atop a Christian foundation. (And yes, I still believe in UFOs, alien civilization influence over the ancients, psychic phenomena, astral projection, the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot Indian guard, and the theory of Atlantis. Oh yeah –and string theory and time travel.

Basically, I think a lot of things are possible. My God, my Creator can do miracles or nothing, plus anything else in between. So why have I remained partly closed off? I think my fear is steering this car. I am afraid to let myself feel close to Him.

The fear is letting myself feel all the guilt and shame of my sins in active addiction.

Time to move on.

Tonight I will pray for grace and forgiveness…and THANK HIM FOR ALL MY BLESSINGS AS WELL AS MY TRIBULATIONS.

There are so many things that I have woken up to in my life each day of continued sobriety. Today will mark my 97th day clean.  I realize that I have changed in my attitude toward my program of recovery.  I am starting to get comfortable being back in my life and having the freedom from addiction to make my own choices (as I simply couldn’t three months ago when I was on my knees and ready to commit suicide).  I choose:

1. To stay clean just one more day
2. To hold down my job responsibly and act like a grown up and not my age of maturity in addiction
3. To set boundaries, yes even be a Boundary Bitch to not allow others to walk all over me or take advantage of my kindness, generosity and willingness.
4. To continue working the steps of my program -NA and encourage other addicts to join me in recovery
5. To continue blogging my feelings about recovery, inviting others to freely share on this site, then to learn to podcast and get moving on my dream
6. To pay my bills, turn my life around financially and start a real plan for retirement.
7. To continue my path of service work and not let anyone discourage me from it.
8. To sit with my feelings, and try to understand what is driving them, feel them, acknowledge how they affect my body, then let them pass –like a guard at the gate, and
9. To continue trying to understand my body and what it is feeling and why.
10. Finally, I choose to be grateful for everything in my life and thank my Higher Power for providing it all; sometimes with impeccable timing.

My favorite new quote is this: [yes, you may quote me]

“AWARENESS is NOT a wardrobe change, and UNIQUE is NOT a clothing store for my EGO!!!”

I am no different than any other addict…I told the same lies, broke the same trust, hurt the same types of people; family; loved ones…My justification for using was only different in the wording –“I’m NOT an addict; I need these drugs for medical reasons; for psychological reasons! I have PTSD due to the loss of my husband and mother! I can’t grieve–I just can’t!  At least I don’t shoot up! I am NOT a tecata!”

While the underlying reasons may be true, I don’t use drugs anymore and I don’t need them.  NOT TODAY.  I pray, not EVER.  We’re all the same and that is so good because that is how you drew me into the rooms and how you will continue to do so, and hopefully, how I will draw others in too, with my experience, strength and hope.

Sometimes, the best medicine, is sitting around in a room, drinking coffee, and sharing stories with each other of how we came to be free today -how we made the choice to NOT use, just for today.  When I do this, and I hear other people tell me about the hell that was their lives, through laughter, and sometimes tears, I get a little more clarity…a little more encouragement…and a hope so deep in me, that it’s possible that thirty years from now, or twenty, or ten, or even a year from now, someone will ask me to be a guest speaker…because I know… IT WORKS.

Peace, Love and Blessings….

I am an every-day addict.  My recovery has now crested 90 days and I feel pretty good about it, although I now realize I will never fully recover.  My disease of addiction will always be part of my life.  But what about the underlying causes?  What about the Labelmaker – ther-rape-me (therapy)? What about, PTSD and manic highs and depressive lows and mixed episodes of Bi-polar Disorder 2, and BPD, and DID, all the crap in between?  Is it just bullshit bingo or are they a real part of ME?

I am trying to learn to love and accept me; JUST ME…you know…”Me.”

In the same breath of my breathwork and meditation, I am feeling this profound sense of loss –my youth.  I feel gentrified! Terrified! Dignified, and sadness all at the same time.  I noticed that I am now three years older than my late mother was when we first moved to this crazy suburban playground.  And she had five children, two grandchildren, and an ex-mother-in-law in tow as well.  She was always so together -well maybe not always (she suffered bouts of manic depressive disorder that wasn’t really diagnosed ever).  She was most of the time, the picture of classy and intelligent.  She had impeccable taste and was the most generous woman I’ve known.

So why am I stuck in this sadness piece lately?  There’s a quote that I love about tears….It goes “When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.”

Have I loved NOT enough?  What is this preoccupation with senescence?  It feels like my life is waning; like all the good things that happened to me were in my youth and are now over.  Bad things happened in my younger years too though.  I had a total hyserectomy at 29.  I was traumatically widowed at 42.  If I add the rest of the really bad stuff I can trace it to childhood. I have been binge-watching the series Grace and Frankie.

That’s it!  It’s not a mid-life crisis –it’s a NO LIFE crisis.  I am mourning the loss of my adolescence which I thought I would carry cradle to grave.  As I march on toward decrepitude, I have looked at this from every angle.  My same age friends are dying off.  My body shape has changed from Rubinesque or Botticelli-like to Maxine the greeting card lady!  Everything is sagging!  I want to think I am still young and cute.  I have even tried “fun with selfies” to see if I can get a decent looking photo of myself.  But guess what?  In every shot, I can only see wrinkles, sagging cheeks and puffy face and eyes.  BLECCH!  I’ve died my hair strawberry blond and plan to go blonder still —because I want and need a drastic change that will make me feel younger.  Ooh.  That really DOES sound like a mid-life crisis.  Men get younger new girlfriends or wives, buy a phallic extension car, and join a gym, while we women change our hair, redecorate our house or buy a new wardrobe.  If I’m not careful, silent lucidity will be replaced with complacent stupidity.

So now I really need your help.  Please comment on this blog with your advice for how I can stop feeling the infirmity of elderly.  Comment or write a Testimonial on my Testimonials page.

Peace, love, blessings and Oil of Olay to all who read this 🙂

Coming into the program was like joining a family. It reminded me of when I first dined with my late husband’s parents. I was so nervous and shy and determined to make a good impression. I really just hoped for unconditional love and acceptance.

Not surprisingly this is what I have been given in the rooms. Among many other things, I am also a registered Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux. But my real and true tribe is my peeps in the Santa Fe NA meetings. All these folks reached out to me in my pain and with both arms wide open, hugged me, accepted me as one of their own. They have loved me unconditionally. They’re my teachers and best friends. We laugh, we dine, we share –intimately and openly. We study. We engage…we connect.

We ARE the Tribulations and Triumphs tribe. We patiently wait for each other…all the while in a constant state of symbiosis and metamorphosis. We playfully push and pull one another along.

90 days!!! I can’t believe I made it to this benchmark.

Thank you tribe.

Peace, love and blessings to all who read this.

First of all, I am making amends to all who suffered through my tantrum of judgment last Thursday night in the rooms in Santa Fe. I realized that judgment only begets judgment, that my disease of addiction comes with the Self-awareness that is a mirror of my raw, albeit true negative behaviors or traits… also known as Defects of Character. Even though I believe that I am READY for sobriety, FEAR is a cruel taskmaster…taskmistress(?)

In 87 days clean, I am more unhappy with myself than ever. Let’s discuss the difference between a reason and an excuse. While I am NOT my disease of addiction, nor defined by my many mental illnesses of PTSD, Bi-polar disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, etc. (the label list goes on and on… and drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain), I know right from wrong. There are reasons for my illnesses, but they are NOT an excuse for relapse –for NOT “DOING THE NEXT RIGHT THING.”

Fear of growth is NOT an excuse. I either grow up, or party on…all the way to hell.

I am being a responsible adult for the first time in years, paying my bills, saving my 401k and planning for retirement. Do I really want to live in fear of throwing it all away for pain??? I am living instead of surviving; thriving instead of manipulating.

I’ve learned that I can’t put more into another person’s Recovery than what they are putting into it. I am still the newcomer myself. Boundary Bitch, the goddess of my recovery. Let them fan the flames of my desire…to stay clean just for today; just ONE more day. I want to feel a part of it, not apart from it. I don’t want this sly, cunning, sleazy addiction to trick me back to insanity by hearing the voice inside me change it’s tune from desperation, to “it wasn’t that bad.” They say that “pride covers a multitude of sins” and I have had a lot of practice swallowing. If I can’t, then I’m unteachable, which means I can’t grow, which by it’s definition means that I am retarded. I am not retarded, just insane, since I know that the definition of insanity is repeating the same behavior over and over again and expecting a different outcome. People aren’t gonna listen to what I say, they’re gonna listen to what I DO.

NO MORE WALLOWING IN SELF-LOATHING, SELF-REJECTION, JUDGMENTALISM, HARSH SELF-CRITICISM, NEGATIVITY, OR EGOTISM. TIME FOR SELF-ACCEPTANCE AND LOVE. Time for h e a l i n g.

Tonight’s meeting’s final lesson: sharing in the room is like praying –I can follow up my words with a call to action.

Peace, love and blessings to all who read this and those who have been clean much longer than I, and contributed to it.