Loving the Sacred through Word and Image. The Ferryland – New Foundland Iceberg Easter 2017. A Word Press Production.

30 Seconds to Mars

Observations …

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Isn’t this photo amazing? Definitely an island somewhere, not sure where it is but it looks inviting. Don’t you wish you could skydive somewhere like this? I do … It would cure my fear of heights really quickly, jumping out of a plane.

They say you should never sit down and write in the middle of the night because this is the time I sit and ruminate over all that is going on in my head. With the day’s business in the hopper and hubby tucked in bed sleeping I close out my night with some music, or maybe some tv, and then to go to bed eventually and read for a bit before calling it a day. That usually takes place around 5 a.m.

So I know today that there are sober people here in Montreal who are reading my blog, since it is synched up with my facebook account. I have a few weeks before school gets going and I get bogged down with responsibilities and reading to do for class. So I might as well make good use of my time.

A little Linkin Park … Minutes to Midnight.

Everybody knows I am in my ninth year of sobriety and eight months. I will mark ten years in December. And I’ve been saying for a while that I was waiting for something exciting to happen. Because I’ve been doing the same thing week in and week out for as long as I have been in sobriety.

Everybody has a life – in my sober circle. People are coming and going from the rooms. One of my friends headed off to Japan for a YEAR last Friday. What an adventure he is going to have. Having settled his 12 year cake before his departure he goes with some serious sobriety on his side.

I watch people. I know many people. I go to the same meetings week in and week out. I do my service like clockwork. It is all very easy to manage. I’ve been watching people for a long time. My friends have come and gone from this city and some of them have returned. And we all grow up together in the rooms.

Today we talked about truth … And the Great Comforter. The truth shall set you free. On our medallions it says “to thine own self be true.”

I guess I have been missing people in my life. My birthday came and went without fanfare and I didn’t say anything about it on that Sunday either. The one person I wanted to see for my birthday wasn’t available. Another year in the hopper and what do I have to show for it?

What have I learned in the last calendar year? French went in one ear and out the other. It is all defeating to tell you the truth. And in a few weeks I am going to walk back into a classroom and pick up where I left off, with no French practice under my belt this summer.

What a waste of time and money. Like I am really going to find a job I want at this point and have to speak french … fuck me …

I have been watching the women at my meeting. They flock to the meeting like little hens. All gathering there with their sponsors. They all vie for time with them and the like. I am a little envious of it all really.

I watch friends in certain meetings having these really great relationships, sponsors and sponsees going to meetings together and celebrating milestones and cakes. People talk about the steps and working with others. I have all the bases covered in my life. But my sponsor is conspicuously absent. I see him an hour a week at my home group.

We don’t go to meetings together like we used to. He is either too busy or too tired from work to get out. And he is terribly picky with where he goes to meetings. He gets very distracted too easily. But I am still going to meetings.

By myself.

I come and go and nobody misses me.

I don’t have “friends” as in people I do things with. We see each other at meetings but never once has anyone offered a meal or a coffee. I just take up a chair at whatever meeting I go to on any given night. People are cordial and they say hello and that is it. Maybe I get asked to read something or someone has something to say about an observation they make about me in passing, people notice that I show up now and I am always in my same seat.

I never deviate from my plan.

I’ve been itching for something to change. I’ve sussed out the gays here and there. We all know who we are and we go about our meetings never mentioning the little secret we all share. I’ve been surrounded by the gays for a long time. I go to meetings where I find commonality. And I am beginning to wonder if I should find a gay sponsor with some time.

I mean there is nothing wrong with my sponsor that I have, except I never see him. He devotes a hell of a lot of time with his other sponsee Dave. A friend from our home group. Dave has a family and a wife and a baby on the way and my sponsor makes sure he has work and gets to meetings and works his steps diligently. Am I jealous? No, Dave is a newbie and he is also in a challenging group of people by descent. He carries the message to his native community and that is very important that he stay sober.

I know he is getting all the care he needs to stay sane, sober and to be able to put money in the bank and food on the table. I don’t begrudge them anything.

But in the same breath I wonder “What about me?”

I don’t talk to my sponsor about personal things. Nobody cares about where I am in my life. Nobody asks and who cares really? I’ve been in this funk about what about me for a while.

I’m feeling a little “Rose’s Turn …”

Things at home are fine. Hubby has his teaching this fall, his friends are all returning to Montreal in the next week or so and they will all be partying together and that is all well and good, but at the same time I ask, “what about Me?” Because once that starts I am on my own …

I haven’t said anything to anyone about what I am writing here. But it doesn’t mean that I haven’t thought through this already. Is it proper to ask What about me? or I am being selfish and self centered?

They say if times are good, don’t get used to it because things will change. And if times are bad to buckle down and hang on because those times too will pass.

I’ve not been close to many people in the rooms. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I’ve not found it necessary to go out of my way for people. I do what I am supposed to do every week. I have my home group, I set up tables and chairs and make coffee for the gaggle of women who now call our group home.

I go to meetings every week on the same days. When school starts I will loose my Thursday night meeting because of class. I don’t take classes on Tuesday’s, that’s my dedicated sober day.

I am an aging gay man. I have a few gay friends. My close gay friends are married with careers. And I know that if I need to see any one of them, all I need to do is ask. People have been busy with work and school all summer. And I have gotten to see them over the past few months.

I am thinking about talking to a member of Sunday Nighter’s in the coming days about all these things. I think I need the perspective of another gay man who has been sober longer than I have. And he is.

My sponsor is a good hard working man, but he isn’t serving my needs, and that sounds very selfish, I know. The only commonality that we share is the home group and Harry Potter. Aside from that he doesn’t do anything else for me. We haven’t had a sober conversation in a long time. Since the day that we went up North and cut wood at Tom and Rene’s and I made a major faux pas up there and neither has let me forget it.

Speaking of Tom, he was at Sunday Nighter’s earlier tonight for the speaker meeting. I wonder if he spoke or just took a seat? I did not stay to find out. I had to talk to my friend and get his number on the way home. I need to call him this week.

End of rant … And now for story time …

We read from Experience, Strength and Hope today. And one of the passages from the book mentions our man who is a drunk and is happened upon by a great comforter, someone who is able to take him where he needs to go to get help for our problem. And he get’s sober eventually and stays sober.

I mention this story because it is how I made it back to the rooms. During the year 2001, 9-11 happened and we were all shocked and the drink became the great equalizer. It drowned our fears and cares and raised money for those in need.

By the end of the year I was coming to my bottom. I said a few prayers …

Prayer one – I need the hangover of death.

By that time I was blackout drinking not knowing how I would get home after a night of debauchery. But I would get home and not know how I managed that.

Prayer two – Put an alcoholic in my path.

I was working at that same time, in a little antique shop. One day a young man walked in looking for a job. And it so happened that I had a job to offer him. He dutifully came to work every day. With a smile on his face and a pep in his step.

And he would say to me every day … ” I did not drink today.”

To which I would respond with, “that’s nice.”

It took a while for me to catch on why he was telling me this truth. Because it came to pass that one day we were on a delivery to Palm Beach and in the truck he told me that he was celebrating a cake the following day.

Prayer three was – To get me to a meeting. December 9th 2001.

It so followed that I gave in and told him that I was an alcoholic as well and he had invited me to come with him to that anniversary meeting. It was a gay meeting. And gay men on South Beach can be cruel. If you don’t have the looks, you might as well fuck off. I stayed for the meeting, And after that meeting, I hung around outside for the next meeting at 10 p.m.

That’s where I met my friends and I rooted myself. It was a 10 p.m. meeting in the same place every night of the week. Fonda and Ed, Charlie who would become my temporary sponsor and all the others I met while there. So I got sober and I remain sober to this day.

Fonda and I share a close friendship. Our birthday is on the 31st July. And we got to talk on that Sunday. We have been close friends for almost ten years now.

I knew who God was. I never had a problem with calling God, God…

Some people do. And that’s ok. As long as they find a power greater than themselves. It all works out in the end. I had my great comforter and he took care of me when I needed it. Maybe because I was willing and broken enough to pay attention to the signs.

And so it goes …

3:24 a.m. This is War. 30 Seconds to Mars … Fantastic

What a way to end a post …

Thanks for reading. More to come, stay tuned …