My Life, The Soap Opera

I have a confession.

I haven’t shared this with many people. I’m afraid they’ll judge me, or at least think of me differently.

But I’ve been taught in this program that I should share freely, even those things that are embarrassing, because you never know who in the room might be carrying around that same secret. Getting a secret out in the open diffuses its power.

So here goes:

Every day, for years, I’ve watched a soap opera.

There. I’ve said it.

It started innocently enough. More than 20 years ago when I was in the Navy, just about everyone in the command watched this particular soap opera, in the duty room, at lunchtime.

I don’t know what it was about this particular soap opera, but it enjoyed a loyal following at every base I was ever stationed.

Even my husband, who was stationed on an all-male ship, watched it. And so did all the men in his department. If I ever had to miss an episode, I knew he could fill me in.

The show starred a set of characters I related to. They were about my age and they struggled with the things I did. They felt like my tribe. And I got hooked. Seriously.

At my final duty station, if anyone happened to be working in the conference room where the TV was located during lunch hour when the show was on, I was beside myself. VCRs were brand new, and I didn’t have one. So if I missed the show, it felt like I missed a part of my life.

But then I left the Navy and took other jobs and didn’t watch the show for nearly 20 years. When I went back to freelancing, I thought about it. But I resisted. If I didn’t watch, I wouldn’t get hooked. I held out for two or three years. Then, well, you know.

It was a lot like coming home. All those characters I related to were still there. Only now they were grown and had grown children, just like me. And they were still dealing with the same issues I was. And mostly that was okay.

Until Annie started getting crazy.

When I started going to Al-Anon meetings, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. I thought my daughter was the one with the problem. I was fine.

I’ve since learned differently, of course. Today, I can see all the ways alcoholism has affected me. I can see how my life was unmanageable.

But every now and then I can see, for the first time, how things really were.

And that’s where my soap opera comes in.

When I say Annie was getting crazy. I don’t mean it in the casual way people often do. I mean crazy as in headed for the mental hospital.

She had been there before. But she’d been out for a while and seemed to be getting her act together. Sort of. After all this is a soap opera.

Then she got involved with a married man. That’s when she started to lose it. Where Annie is headed would be obvious to anyone watching the show for any more than five minutes. She is certifiable.

So I’m watching all this and I’m thinking….

Oh my God. That’s me.

Not today, thank God. But there was a time when I acted an awful lot like crazy Annie.

I wasn’t having hallucinations or fantasies about stabbing anyone with a pair of scissors. But I recognized the obsession, the temper tantrums, the lightning-fast swings of emotion from one extreme to another.

Annie’s behavior reminded me of one relationship in particular. My daughter was still very young. I had been out of my family of origin for years. There were not even any active alcoholics in my life at the time.

And yet I was acting…. crazy.

It was one of those lightbulb moments.

I realized I don’t need an alcoholic in my life to be crazy. I was perfectly capable of doing that all by myself. And I was insane.

Until I watched crazy Annie and saw myself in her behavior, the phrase “restored to sanity” felt more euphemistic than accurate.

I could readily see and acknowledge my defects of character. I could see that they were the result of this disease.

But I didn’t really believe my behavior was insane.

Until now.

“Once you know something you can’t not know it,” my sponsor is fond of saying.

Now I know.

I feel like Scrooge must have felt, having been visited by the ghosts of his past and future. On the next day, Scrooge decided to do what he must to ensure a better future. And so did I.

The good news is that as long as I continue to do the things I’m taught to do in this program—as long as I continue to pray on my knees, attend meetings, take commitments, sponsor others, work steps, talk with my sponsor—by the grace of God, I can have a daily reprieve from the soap opera that used to be my life.

Or I can choose not to.

I’m a good forgetter. When I start to feel better, it’s easy for me to forget what life was like. I can begin to believe I don’t really need this program.

God is a good reminder. He delivers the perfect message in the perfect medium. Preparing myself to receive the message is up to me.

Al-Anonisms

Near the end of a recent Big Book study, we talked about Al-Anonisms, those particular defects of character that tend to come with the disease. Those of us who didn’t already have the list were encouraged to write them in our Big Books.

It started off lightheartedly.

“Sarcasm,” the list reader would say.

“Not me!” someone else would say in mock horror.

“That would take us back to denial….”

We all laughed.

But after a while, I started to wonder if this list had an end. It seemed to go on and on. I was getting tired just hearing it all.

Someone else said what I was thinking.

“There’s still about 10 more,” the list reader said.

By the time she was done, the list included nearly 40 isms. I saw myself in most of them. It felt like a lot to have to carry around.

I overheard two women talking on the way out. One said she didn’t think all those things applied to her.

“Then you must be in denial,” the other said in a tone I took to be sarcasm.

They weren’t laughing.

A dear friend said she thought it was all too much. That people were wallowing in their defects.

“How do you even start to tackle all those things?” she asked. “I prefer to focus on what’s good about myself.”

Then she asked me if I thought I was a good person.

The question stumped me. I didn’t know how to answer. I don’t think the presence or absence of these isms makes me a good person or a bad one. They are just the way this disease of alcoholism affected me.

Though I have long been familiar with these defects, I didn’t always attribute them to alcoholism. I thought they were just my temperament, in my genes, the way I was wired.

The realization that my serious nature, for example, was part of this disease was one of the bigger lightbulb moments I have had in this program.

I considered it good news. It meant that humorlessness wasn’t a fixed part of my personality. It meant I could be restored to good humor along with sanity.

To be able to see myself in this list also felt like good news. To me, it represented awareness I didn’t used to have. Without awareness I can’t change, no matter how many years I spend in the program.

I still find the list fascinating, but I no longer feel burdened by it. I have been taught that if I do the things that have been suggested to me in this program, God will do for me what I can’t do for myself.

I’ve also been taught that I don’t get to choose which defects God removes, or when. In the seventh step prayer, the Big Book doesn’t tell my to pray that God remove isms one through 38.

It suggests that I pray that God remove the defects of character that stand in the way of my usefulness to Him and to my fellows.

Pondering this list, I realized I no longer judge myself for my defects. I accept them. Just as I accept that as long as I continue to do what I’ve been taught to do, as long as I attend meetings, pray on my knees, read Al-Anon literature daily, call my sponsor, work steps, take commitments, and sponsor others—I will get better.

But in God’s time.

And in God’s way.

I believe this because I have gotten better.

I get a daily reprieve from some of my defects to the degree that I remain spiritually fit. Some are still with me, but have faded considerably. They are less a default setting and more a response to stress. Others are still very much with me.

But I don’t worry about them.

As with everything in this program, I can only do my part and let go of the outcome.

We are not bad people, my sponsor is fond of saying. We’re just sick people trying to get better.

Here is the list:

Denial
Control
Blame
Expectations
Resentments/anger/rage
Martyrdom
Addiction to excitement, good or bad
Drama queen
Crisis junkie
Obsession
Fear/fear/fear
Intensity
The need to be right
Vindictiveness/mean spiritedness
Low self-worth/self-esteem
People pleasing
Rebelliousness
Perfectionism
Fear of abandonment
Lack of humor
Manipulation
Power pout/silent scorn
Caretaker
Critical
Shame
Judgmental
Self-pity
As soon as… yes, but
Explain, explain, explain
Condemn/compare/complain
Self-centered
Depression
Taking hostages
Sarcasm
Nagging
Minimizing
Believing I know best

Eye Exams and Other Tests

Hubby and I picked up new glasses the other day. It had been two years. During the recession, we didn’t feel we could afford them, but we couldn’t put it off any longer.

I found myself struggling to read the small type in my daily readers in the morning. Working on building our house up at the land had also taken its toll. There was a spot on my left lens that would not come clean. I wiped and wiped but it would not go, and without my glasses on I couldn’t even see what it was.

So once I got through the December deadlines that kept me so busy, Hubby and I decided it was time to take care of the things we had been neglecting. New glasses were at the top of the list.

The salesman at Eyemasters hooted when he looked at my lenses.

“You’ve had some fun in these!” he said.

Yes, I admitted, I had.

When our glasses came in, we went in to have them fitted. The instant the salesman put them on my face, it was like a veil had lifted. I could see! Everything looked crisp and sharp. I marveled over it all evening. Hubby and I went down to the dock to watch the sunset. I felt like I was seeing everything—t he lake, the birds, my husband—for the first time.

With my new glasses on, I looked at my old lenses. They looked cloudy. There were nicks and scratches. On one corner, a film had started to separate from the glass.

My prescription had changed significantly, but looking at the condition of my lenses, I thought, “No wonder I couldn’t see!”

I won’t be the first to say that joining Al-Anon was like getting a new pair of glasses. Through the lens of Al-Anon, I could see things I simply had not been able to see before. Through the lens of Al-Anon, I understood for the first time how significantly my vision had been distorted.

But my new glasses remind me that I also need to check my Al-Anon lenses from time to time. They, too, get old, scratched and cloudy. I need regular check ups.

In my line of sponsorship that takes the form of an annual inventory.

The idea is not universally accepted, of course. There are those who believe that once you’ve worked the steps, regularly practicing steps 10, 11 and 12 is enough. And I’m not saying they are wrong.

But it doesn’t work for me. I need to take a closer look from time to time, and a second set of eyes from my sponsor.

My second fourth step did, indeed, yield fresh insights. It wasn’t as dramatic as when I got my first pair of glasses. More like a prescription adjustment, where everything felt crisper. Something I’d noted on my first fourth step finally made sense. More was revealed.

“You can’t pass a test you haven’t taken,” I heard someone say recently. My inventory is like an annual eye exam. I can measure my changes and adjust my “prescription.” I can see everything come into a little sharper focus.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Listen and Learn

That was the topic of a recent Al-Anon meeting.

This particular meeting features a slogan or Just for Today once a month. I appreciated this one because it’s a slogan that doesn’t often get much discussion. And I know my Higher Power is working in my life because this is a tool I need.

I have a listening deficit. I never realized this before, but now I can clearly see it’s part and parcel of my disease.

This particular defect of character was aggravatingly brought to my attention about a dozen years ago. I was dating a guy who used to get furious with me because (he said) I always interrupted him when he was talking.

“I do not,” I said, interrupting him to argue the point.

So every time I interrupted him, he’d point it out to me.

“There,” he’d say. “You just interrupted me again.”

It was infuriating. Probably because he was right. My stock response to someone pointing out a defect of mine was to deny or get angry, or both.

If I ever run into this guy again, I need to thank him because made me acutely aware of when I do this.

For a while.

I’ve caught myself doing it again. A lot.

If I’m honest, I will admit to less than honorable reasons for interrupting someone.

Something the other person said reminds me of something and I’m afraid I might forget it by the time they are finished.

I interrupt because I think I have the answer to some problem. Or I think relating my own experience in this area is very, very important to share.

Or I want to demonstrate how smart/educated/sympathetic/right I am.

The common denominator, of course, is me.

“Selfishness—self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles,” the Big Book says. In my line of sponsorship, we read this section out loud as part of our step work. But we change any references to the alcoholic with “I” and references to “drinking” with “thinking.”

Every time I read this with a sponsee, it rings more true. Every time I read this I’m reminded that my disease is just the flip side of the same malady the alcoholic suffers from. We are really not that much different. Our diseases just manifest themselves differently.

The real trouble with all this self-will run riot is that it’s the opposite of humility, and I need to be humble if I am to get better. For without humility, I am not teachable. If I know everything, if I have all the answers, nothing you can say can have any value to me.

Yet, if there is anything I’ve learned in this program, it’s that you never know who your teacher is going to be.

If I am busy formulating my response while you are speaking, then I’m not hearing you. I’ve missed what you’ve just said. And maybe you’ve said something I needed to hear. But I won’t know that.

Meetings are the perfect place to practice. It strikes me as genius that we must listen without responding until it is our turn to talk. But instead of thinking about what I’m going to share when it’s my turn, I’m going to really try to just listen instead.

Maybe I’ll learn something.

New Year, New Day

It is New Year’s Day as I write this, though it will be a few days yet before I can post it. Hubby and I have been up at the land since just before Christmas, and we have no internet service here.

It snowed all day Wednesday and into Thursday. If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you know this place is 4 ½ miles on a dirt road. Our closest neighbor is 2 ½ miles away. No one is coming to plow. The only thing to do is wait it out.

We knew the storm was coming, so we went into our little nearest town on Tuesday to make the rounds and pick up odds and ends. We dropped off a contribution at the Book Barn donation box, bought some fresh eggs from a couple we know who have chickens, stopped in at the hardware store, spent $10 for a Black and Decker food processor at the Senior Center Thrift store.

So today we are happily marooned. We have everything we need: plenty of food and firewood and work to do, and that’s what we’re happiest doing these days.

A cold front followed the storm, which has preserved this beautiful winter scene. It was 10 degrees this morning. The cold water in our kitchen sink is not working, which is not good. On the other hand, I’m looking out at icicles three feet long hanging from the porch roof and a pristine blanket of snow, broken only by a few animal tracks.

The clean, white landscape feels just right for a New Year’s Day. I do not go in much for resolutions, but there is something hopeful about a new year. Even my Al-Anon readers, which it seemed to barely acknowledged the holidays are full of talk about clean fresh pages and new beginnings.

And why not? Every day begins fresh with no mistakes in it. Was it Anne of Green Gables who said that? If not, it at least sounds like something she’d say. I’m sure Anne (with an “e”!) was not thinking about recovery, but I am. New Year’s Day reminds me that we live through this day only. Every day in recovery is a fresh start.

But in recovery I also know not to burden myself with expectations for the future. I will make no resolutions. I know I will get busy and overwhelmed and make mistakes. Harsh words will cross my lips. I will have unlofty thoughts. I’m only human. It’s not perfection I’m after. I will forgive myself. Make amends when I need to and move on.

I also love New Year’s Day because it’s an excuse to look back over the year that’s just ended. Take a spot inventory of my life, if you will.

For me, it’s been good year. Even with the economy, Hubby and I have everything we started the year with: our home, our work, each other. God has provided everything we’ve needed and we’ve found a way to do everything we wanted. Our lives have felt rich beyond measure.

Looking back over the blog I’ve kept on our construction, I see that at the beginning of last year, we were just hooking up the kitchen sink and installing propane heat stoves. Our interior walls were pink from newly installed insulation. Now, we're preparing for a final inspection.

After two very difficult years in my industry, I’ve had my best year in a very long time. December was especially hectic, work-wise. I admit I was a little worried about whether I could pull it off. And there was this little thing called Christmas that came with its own demands. Every day, I asked God to set my priorities and to help me focus on what was in front of me and it all got done.

Just a few days ago, my husband told me he thought he was ready to put his employees back on full-time. They’ve been working a reduced schedule for two years now. Not long ago, he thought he’d have to make further cuts.

This year, Hubby and I celebrated eight years of marriage. My daughter is celebrating something like 10 months of sobriety. She’s working a program and getting ready to meet with her sponsor to work her 10th step.

The amends her sponsor assigned her concerning me was to keep in touch. So now she calls regularly just to talk. She’s working and saving money.

In Al-Anon, I began my prison service a year ago, and Alateen service not long after that. Both have been rich and rewarding experiences.

I also became a sponsor to a group of wonderful women, who teach me so much. I gave my first sponsee her one-year chip in December. Now she has a sponsee. It is a wonderful feeling to be the hand of Al-Anon for someone. To watch them grow and then to see them reach out the hand of Al-Anon to someone else. That’s the miracle of this program. That’s how it works.

I have so much to be grateful for. If you’re still reading, I’m grateful for that, too.

Whatever your past year has been, I wish you a New Year of fresh starts, one day at a time.

Feeling Gratitude Fatigued?

At my Monday night meeting, the topic was gratitude. One member said she was tired of talking about gratitude around Thanksgiving. It was so cliche. She wondered what the opposite of gratitude was. That would be more interesting.

I can see how she could feel that way. Sometimes in the rooms of Al-Anon, I hear some of the most profound truths so often that I start to tune them out. I confess that I sometimes feel that way when I learn that the topic of the meeting is step 1. That's a problem for me because the minute I forget I'm powerless, my life becomes unmanageable. And I'm a good forgetter. I need reminders. So I keep coming back.

I think gratitude can fall into the same trap. We can get gratitude fatigue. Gratitude seems so simple. So obvious. So easy to dismiss.

The next morning, a newspaper article caught my eye. It said studies showed that gratitude improved "psychological, emotional and physical well being."

"Adults who frequently feel grateful have more energy, more optimism, more social connections and more happiness than those who do not," the article said. "They are less likely to be depressed, envious or greedy. They earn more money, sleep more soundly, exercise more regularly and have greater resistance to viral infections."

Many studies have demonstrated these effects. The article went on to say that gratitude is a complex emotion that requires self-reflection, the ability to admit one's dependence and humility. Had they been reading the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous? I had to wonder.

The article went on to say that gratitude also forces people to overcome the "negativity bias," the innate tendency to dwell on problems, annoyances and injustices.

Experts believe about 50 percent of this tendency is innate. That means 50 percent can be learned. And that's the good news.

The other good news is that learning to become more grateful is easy. Unfortunately, I think that's also the problem. It's so easy that it can seem inconsequential.

The newspaper article suggested a number of techniques that are staples of 12-step programs:

Keeping a daily gratitude journal
Sharing a daily gratitude list with others
Stopping to focus on the sounds, smells and sensations around you (meditation)
Reviewing the events and people you were grateful for at the end of the day (daily inventory)

I have done all of these things, and practice most of them on a daily basis. I also assign them to my sponsees. It works for me, and I've seen it work in others--sometimes dramatically.

Here's a new technique I learned from the article: the gratitude visit. Thanking someone in person.

One study found that fourth graders who took a gratitude visit felt better about themselves even two weeks months later. The effect was particularly pronounced among those whose mood was low.

I say this is "new," to me but it's not really. My daughter recently told me an amends her sponsor assigned her involved approaching a policeman or woman and thanking them for their service.

Here's another exercise. Write essay mentally subtracting a major blessing in your life. In a study, college students who did this were subsequently more grateful for that blessing. It's called the "George Baily effect," after the protagonist of "It's a Wonderful Life."

The article warns that expressing gratitude can be used to exert control over the receiver. The antidote? Another 12-step staple: assess your motives.

The article also addressed the phenomenon of "gratitude fatigue." It said when we fall back on "I'm grateful for my dog," we're in gratitude fatigue. To keep it fresh, the article suggested keeping it very specific. "I'm grateful for the way my dog licked my face when I was sad."

On Monday night, our group was small and we finished early. So one of our members pulled out her smart phone and googled the opposite of gratitude. I wish I had been taking notes so I could remember what she found. I tried it and got nothing more interesting than "ungrateful."

I do remember that her list included irritability and discontent, which sounded just about right.

And that brings me to the final point of the article. The opposite of expressing gratitude, using negative or derogatory words, even just to yourself, can darken your mood.

My sponsor gave me a wonderful assignment once. Every time I found myself "condemning, criticizing, complaining or comparing," even to myself, I had to write it down.

It amazed me how often I had to pull out that notebook. Maybe it's human nature. But today I know it's toxic. Every time I do one of those things I'm taking somebody's inventory but my own.

Every time I did that served as a reminder that I can only control the thoughts, behaviors and actions of one person: me. Over everybody else I am powerless.

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday because it has somehow remained pure. It is a national holiday in which we gather to give thanks. There are no gift exchanges. We gather with our families, either biological or intentional, and share a meal to represent the bounty of our lives.

At Monday's meeting, I thought about Thanksgiving, pre-program. How we'd all gather around the table and say what we felt grateful for. How I always struggled with what to say.

Today I believe that gratitude is a muscle. The more I exercise it, the bigger it gets.

So this Thanksgiving I will say that I am grateful I have a program. I'm grateful that it's taught me that I don't have to wait for a national holiday to give thanks. I can give it every day. And I do.

I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving.

The Best of Intentions

Man makes plans in his heart, but God directs his feet.

A friend said that to me the other day, and I loved it.

He was talking about himself. He had recently been fired from his job, but the date of his departure hadn’t been settled. His replacement was to come Nov. 1. Then he was told his replacement maybe not be available until the end of the year. Could he stay until then?

So my friend made some plans that would carry his position through the end of the year. He was well into it. Things were going well. Then he got the call. His replacement would, indeed, be there on Nov. 1. He had to remind himself:

Man makes plans in his heart, but God directs his feet.

I thought of that when I got home that very day to find an e-mail from our prospective renters. Their financial situation had changed and they could not rent our home. They were very sorry.

We were well into the process of finishing up at the land and moving out by their requested move-in date of Dec. 1. We had hired people to speed up the work on our yet-unfinished house. Held a huge garage sale. Sold two cars, furniture, appliances, artwork. Half our stuff was moved. But…

Man makes plans in his heart, but God directs his feet.

So….

We are still moving. Only now the pressure is off. Now, we can move in furniture after we install floors. We can hang clothes in finished closets.

I figure that these folks lit a fire under us. They knocked us off the fence and got us to tend to details we had been putting off.

We will list our house for rent on Craigslist. We will do our part and leave the rest to God.

We will make plans in our hearts, and let God direct our feet.

Speaking of directing my feet, literally… I have another assignment that involves hiking the Grand Canyon! Apparently, God does not want me to get flabby, either spiritually or physically. He continues to exercise my heart, mind and body. For that, I’m grateful. Left to my own devices, I can be pretty easy on myself. I let myself go.

Thanks to those of you who have stuck with me through this time of infrequent postings. I hope to return a visit soon. Honest.

I noticed that since I’ve been away, some new faces have appeared among my “friends and fellow travelers.” So I’d like to offer a heartfelt welcome to the “newcomers.” I look forward to paying you a visit soon.

Until then, take good care.