Memorial – And Tenth Step Speakings
The world mourns the passing of a giant of social rights, a saint for the world to remember, and a man of peace, who we may never see again in this lifetime. Nelson Mandela, your life will be remembered for all time.
Eternal Rest grant him and may Perpetual Light shine upon him.
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How do you go on with what you want to say when a monumental death has taken place in the world…
We take a moment of silence and we pray. Something we learn to do in sobriety on a daily, and sometimes by the minute, we recite prayers. It is part of our survival, the way we connect with something greater than ourselves.
The weather tonight has been dreary. Warmer temps signal rain, instead of snow. I’d rather have snow than rain. And it prompted carrying an unnecessary umbrella, just in case.
“What we really have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition. Every day is a day when we must carry the vision of God’s will into all of our activities.” pg. 85 B.B.
I awoke to the news today after a short nap. And settled into preparation to leave for the church. What better place to remember and pray, if not in the church proper, than the church basement.
We spend a great deal of time, praying in basements of churches.
I swore I would not write about what’s going on in my head, and I will respect that decision.
All I will say is that “newcomers can be our teachers.”
And it goes, that a newcomer has lodged herself right in my side like a thorn from a huge bush. There are so many things I would like to say, but time under my belt reminds me that I should pray for those with different struggles. And that I am powerless over people, places and things.
We are in the final stretch of the pre-cake roller coaster. Just a few more days and it will all be over with. God Grant me Serenity !!!
I have a certain problem that stems from childhood. Being a child of alcoholics, I tried to avoid conflicts. But more times than I want to recount, I either instigated them, or participated in them.
My father was a very abusive man, towards my mother and my brother. But nobody remembers this fact. And Many times, too many times, when my father went after them, I would step in and take the brunt of whatever he was dishing out at that present moment. I would rather he abuse me than my mother.
But that fact is so easily forgotten, because I am a FAG.
Any semblance of Manly Honor is lost on that fact in my family.
Hence, I became my father’s best whipping post.
I learned to do something particular. I could, without effort, or minimal effort, think my way out of any argument, discussion or abuse.
And that specific gift is still in operation today in my life.
When someone becomes a craw, or the proverbial thorn in my side, the chatter in my head begins. I talk to myself, I have entire conversations with other people, in preparation for an impending face off.
Because I really want that face off when I can knock you down a few pegs because of “who I think I am.” And that wreaks of All About Me.
I have always had this gift of being able to out think you. To estimate what you might say and have my arguments ready and willing. I had to do this as a young person on a frequent basis.
Have you ever had a preemptive discussion in your head? I have.
It is old wiring. It is something when old habits come to new realizations in sobriety, because they mean something different when I look at them with new eyes.
There are many things that I remember that bring up memories that I would rather forget. And old resentments that are pointless to entertain, because they only bring me pain and strife.
Like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, I know them intimately.
My father was that type of drunk. You never knew who was going to walk through the front door at night. Or who was going to barge into your bedroom for the nightly fighting/beating event.
Maybe I drank to forget. I don’t remember ever saying to myself that if I drank, whatever was in my head would disappear. I just don’t remember. When I moved away, I figured that the past would just go away.
The further distance I put between my present and my past the better.
Was that a good thought?
My drinking career began well before I moved out on my own. And I was woefully unprepared for the world when I marched out to meet it. I was a much worse alcoholic in my younger years, than when I grew older.
Chalk it up to youth or stupidity. I was young and truly stupid.
I just drank, because that’s what I learned how to do. For any reason and for any occasion. I moved from daily drinking to weekend drinking, to the last effort, the Binge drinking.
They say “With age comes wisdom.”
And on the run up to a celebration of twelve years of sobriety, I should have all this certain wisdom. I don’t know if that is true.
Lately that tape in my head has been rolling. I take it to bed with me and It follows me into sleep. And then I wake up with it, having totally mentally masturbated for hours and days.
I called a fellow lady member yesterday and did a formal 10th step.
I talked it all out. And then I called a second lady member and talked it out with her. And what did I learn from this tenth step exercise?
Love and tolerance is our code. As the prayer says, I should have tolerance for those with different struggles.
I don’t have a leg to stand on. And it is better to keep my mouth shut rather than sticking my foot into it, all the way up to my thigh.
It was a good night. Good friends, Good discussion, Good coffee.
Because I make the best coffee in Montreal.
In one week I celebrate twelve years of sobriety.
THERE ARE 19 SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS !!!
More to come, stay tuned …